THE UNTOLD NIGHTMARE…
Twisting of ears and slapping were acts which had become obsolete in the teaching profession.
However, these habits were yet to sink-in in a few teachers.
The erratic mood of Madam Malhotra was nothing new to anyone in our school, but today, the way she reacted to one of her students was not justifiable. Although I was a witness to the entire episode and could have held her back in doing so, today again, I got carried away by an unexplained feeling. I was staring at the whole scene like a cinematic slide rolling in front of my eyes, but the sound was not reaching my eardrums. I could just see the movement of her lips and the child’s tears rolling down her cheeks. I even failed to realize when Madam Malhotra left the scene and went back to her class. I wanted to call her to my office immediately and teach her a lesson about such irrational behavior. Nonetheless, I did not want to disturb the flow of the class so I decided to have a candid discussion separately with her, after school hours.
I was on a round of my school and was disappointed after seeing her behavior towards students, yet again.
I didn’t know why, but suddenly, it seemed that this incident had happened earlier too. She had slapped that same child and was shouting at the top of her voice. The child was weeping helplessly. She twisted her ear and signaled to exit the class. That child wobbled out of the class putting her head down. And today, when I saw her shouting, the child’s innocent face and her exit with her head down made me feel the repetition of the incident.
“Sir, Madam Malhotra is waiting for you,” my peon informed me.
I signalled him to send her in. “May I come in, Sir?” “Please, come.”
She was a tall and fair lady wearing round-shaped spectacles and its golden chain was touching both her cheeks intermittently. She was in her late thirties, but her attitude made her appear more aged than her actual age. She was clad in a Benarsi Saree, clasping a few books under her arm.
She came to me and said, “Sir, you had called me, anything urgent?” She looked at me along with her wooden expression.
“Yes, Mrs. Malhotra,” I signaled her to sit on the chair. She perched on the chair opposite mine. She was looking at me with an expression which seemed to say,
“Why did you call me at this hour?”
I strained my brain as to how to handle this incident. I remembered she was one of the founder members of our school and had been serving the school since inception. No sooner had I started my discussion with her than one of the school staff stormed into my room and informed that the child had collapsed in the classroom. Miss Sulekha had taken her to the infirmary for first aid, but the same had to be informed to her parents.
I could see the nervousness on Madam Malhotra’s face. In fact, the chilling sensation also ran down my spine. I had never faced such a situation before. I was anticipating such a situation for a couple of months, but it would happen so quickly was unexpected. Madam Malhotra was literally shivering and looking at me with an expression, “Please save me… I have not done anything intentionally.”
I exhaled a deep breath, thought for a while and then darted out of my room. Mrs. Malhotra was still in my room. Now the challenge was to inform her parents. Before informing her parents, I wanted to check the child’s condition myself, so I called Miss Sulekha to know the current condition.
“Miss Sulekha, how is that girl doing now?” “Much better, Sir. I am here with her in the infirmary
and observing her condition.” Her reply regained my confidence and I prepared myself for any consequences. “I think we need to consult a doctor before delaying any further,” I insisted.
“Sir, I don’t think it is required. She is much better now.”
“So, should I inform her parents?” I asked.
“Not required, Sir. I am bringing her to your office. You can take a call after seeing her,” her reply was full of confidence and in turn, it relieved my tension to some extent if not completely.
I was really grateful to Miss Sulekha who stood by us in this time of crisis. That episode got over, but the incident remained in my memory.
The days were passing by, but somewhere in my brain, the question remained unanswered, “Is it possible that one could see an incident before it happened or was it merely a deception?” I buried myself in my work, but the result of this year was alarming for me. In the last seven years of my stint, my school had never scored such a poor percentage in the finals. Out of 130 students, only 38 students could bag the 1st position, and it was really embarrassing for me because my school was known as the best of the best institution. 29% 1st division was not at all acceptable.
I immediately called all the teachers for a meeting. I wanted to arrest the issues instantaneously so that the same should not be repeated. While I was addressing the teachers, my phone rang. Usually, I don’t take a call while I am in a meeting, but I noticed three missed calls from my childhood friend. I excused myself from the meeting room and called him back without any delay. I said, “Hello…”
“Sorry to disturb you, Vikram… but Papa’s condition is very critical and we are taking him to SSKM hospital. I need you, bro,” his shivered voice clearly depicting his hopelessness.
His last sentence, “I need you, bro,” was enough for me to reach the hospital as soon as possible. Though the meeting was very important for me, I could not hold back myself and adjourned the meeting in the midst of the huddle. It took me another two hours to reach the hospital. Shobha was standing near the inquiry counter. I knew her from our college days, but after her marriage with Armaan, she graved herself in household activities. Though we were frequent moviegoers over the weekends in our college days, after marriage, she took a paradigm shift and changed herself 360 degrees.
“How is Uncle now?” I asked her.
“He is no more,” she replied in a low voice “What?” I squalled, “Where is Armaan?” “He went to bring the body from ICU.”
Without any delay, I took the elevator. Armaan was standing outside the ICU for his father’s dead body. Shaken, I moved towards him and put my hand on his shoulder. He immediately turned and clinched me as if he was just waiting for me to hold on to and offload a part of his grief. No words were exchanged, but I could perceive what Armaan wanted to say. I could feel his pain.
Suddenly, the same, old feelings ushered me towards the repetition of this incident. Again, for a moment, I felt like this had already happened before too. Not sure when, but I had reached the hospital and in the same way, Shobha had informed about uncle’s death and likewise, Armaan had clinched me.
But how could this be possible? A man cannot die twice.
This incident had stuck somewhere in the corner of my brain and was not getting out of it by any means. I tried all the best possible ways to shrug off the thoughts, but that made it even worse. The more I wanted to come out of this abstruseness the more I was bogged in this enigma. Somehow, I held myself until the funeral of Arman’s father. After the rituals, I just rushed back to my home. Throughout the way, I was trying to solve the mystery, which had been engulfing my mental peace. All through the night, I could not sleep properly.
I was tossing on the bed. Anyone could easily feel my bundle of nerves. The next morning, I shared these two uncommon incidents hesitantly with my wife. It seemed that she had smelt my mental condition last night but did not ask anything. Possibly, she did not want to make me more disturbed. After narrating my thoughts, I had been sitting beside her for a couple of minutes, holding her hands and was staring at her with an expression, “Am I becoming insane?”
“I think you should consult a psychiatrist. If you don’t feel awkward,” her voice was timid, but the approach was assertive.
We take medicines and consult doctors for the imbalance of all other body parts except the brain. Going to a psychiatrist means first step up the ladder. We have been merely groomed like this. We have never assumed that a brain may also malfunction sometimes. We always question the sanity of a person if one suggests that you meet a psychiatrist. But how could I think the same for my wife?
“Anita, please… I know the incidents that I have shared just now don’t sound natural, but apart from this, I am perfectly okay,” I babbled out.
She was staring at me constantly but did not utter a single word. I also did not like the idea. I dressed up for school and left home without having breakfast. While on the way to school, I was wrenching my brain to reason out the cause for suggesting me to meet a psychiatrist. The entire day passed away, but the frame of my mind did not change a bit. I wanted a break from my daily routine.
After school hours, I did not take the route of my house, rather chose to spend some time with my friend Armaan. I called him and asked him to come down to “Deewanon Ka Dhaba” which used to be our ‘place-to-be’ for spending time. The way people take different opinions before going for any surgery, I also wanted to take a second opinion from someone whom I considered sincere towards me. Initially, I was not comfortable sharing these incidents as well as my wife’s suggestion given that morning, but I did not have any choice. I shared everything with him and he just listened to me patiently.
“Now you tell me, what should I do?” I asked him looking at his eyes with a questioning expression on my face – “You too think in the same way as my wife?”
Before he would have said something, we both heard a statement which was not expected in public. A man sitting beside us bawled out, “Rohingya deserved that… Bloody Muslims,” while watching a news channel on the TV. Everyone around stared at him, but he was not at all abashed. He kept on spitting the venoms against the particular community, continuously, without giving a damn to others’ sentiments. A few Muslim families were also present, but they chose to remain silent. They buttoned up their lips as the Dhaba was located near a Hindu locality and taking a stand against that person could have jeopardized them too. But Armaan could not hold himself back so he stood vehemently from his chair, turned towards that man and shrieked.
