NOORJAHAN

‘NOORJAHAN’
His name was Anwar. My memory does not help me in tracing the history of the ‘whys’ and ‘hows’ our nicknaming him ‘Noorjahan’. Perhaps it was something to do with his cute girlish face and tender body structure and/or the ever present smile on his lips and twinkle in his eyes. Whatever.
Unlike most of us who had navigated from the junior section to the upper section in class six, he was one of the few who had come from other schools. As usual there was natural rivalry and distance with outsiders in the beginning and it takes time to make new acquaintances and friends. ‘Noorjahan’ was more at disadvantage because he came from the rural area. He was not like we town/city bred children. Nevertheless he took to the new surroundings like a fish takes to water. One thing however remained constant, our calling him by his new nickname. He however never seemed to care or mind.
He was rather below average student and therefore a target of our making fun of him on this count too. The teachers were also aware of his limitations but generally tried to help him.
In our geography class for over a week the teacher was making us familiar with the rivers of India with the help of a Map hung over the blackboard. Today he was testing our knowledge by asking any student at random to point the river he name . “Anwar, come here and tell me where is river Ganga” asked the teacher. ‘Noorjahan’ in his usual timid way, yet smile on his lips, moved closer to the map but was totally at loss to point the river. Someone shouted from the back “ arre map ke pichhe dekh” (look behind the map). Poor ‘Noorjahan’ went behind the blackboard to look for the river the whole class roared in laughter. The teacher also smiled but salvaged the situation by explaining again by pointing again the location of the river on the map.
Our English teacher was a typical example of a genus gone astray. He was rated one of the best teacher in town but his drinking habits preceded him wherever he went. He had Wren’s English Grammar in his blood, so to say, page by page, word by word. He never opened the Book but simply asked the students to open page number such and such, exercise number such and such etc. Upper class students were full of praise for him and his teaching methods. However his drinking habits were a matter of embarrassment for all, not for him. I do not know why management tolerated him. Coming back to ‘Noorjhhan’ , it was our English class and teacher gave us some work and sat on the chair closed eyes. He was perhaps a little tipsy, you know what I mean! There was some row on the back benches. The teacher opened his eyes and tried to figure out. He asked Anwar as to what was happening who got up and kept smiling. But said nothing. He asked him again, no reply but smile on lips and twinkles in eyes. “Why are you smiling” he asked again and again. After a long, tense wait ‘Noorjahan’ replied “sir, aapaki soorat dekhkar” (Sir seeing your face)’
It was like sprinkling ghee over fire. The teacher kept on slapping him for rest of the period saying “am I joker?”
We never saw ‘Noorjahan’ again in the school.

TRUST DEFICIT

TRUST DEFICIT
In my last RRR, ‘Noorjahan’ and his beating at the hands of our English Teacher resulting into his dropping from the school was rumbled.
Now it is my turn. Dropping all pretentions of modesty, I may say that I was a bright student and therefore a favorite of most of the teachers. Shatriji, as our Hindi Teacher was fondly called had special liking for me. He liked my hand writing, my way of expression and most importantly my being an obedient pupil. In his opinion I could do no wrongs. I did my home work without fail, read in advance the chapter coming for next tutorial in the class and my books were properly kept in neat and clean condition. In fact in his eyes I was the ideal student. He would give my example in every other class. He knew my father and would always praise me.
Every day before the Hindi class, it was my duty to collect Home work note books from each student and place them on the table before Shatriji came .On that fateful day, I had somehow missed to do my home work and as such did not bring the note book. All the note books except mine were on the table before Shastriji came. As a routine he called that all student who have not brought their home work to stand up. As a punishment all such students stood on the bench throughout the period. Surprisingly I was the lone student on that day who had not done his home work and stood up. Shashtriji was aghast when he saw me standing.
There was something in his eyes, perhaps tears, and he asked me the reason. I got scared and lied by saying that I had done my home work but forgot to bring the book. There was little sign of hope on his face. He knew my house was not far off and asked me to go and get it as fast as I could. I just stood there stone faced. I fell short of speaking another lie that there was no body at home for the day but could not gather the courage to do so.
“So you lied to me?” were his words before his long handed broad palm slap landed on my face. There was another and another and another till my face became chilly read, tears flowing down and head hung in humiliation. He commenced explaining the chapter scheduled for the day. He would read a few lines, explain, look at me and come rushing and slap me again and again. That 40 minutes period seemed eternity. I could not even hear the bell indicating the end of the period and thus ending my ordeal. Shastriji taught us till class eight but I had lost his trust. In fact I had humiliated him.
I could not fully grasp the implication of my doings but looking back I feel I failed not because I did not do the home work but because I was not worthy of his trust, or at least that is how he must have taken it. I had lied. I could have told him the truth that I did not do the home work rather than lying that I had forgotten the book at home. He would have understood and forgiven me with small punishment of standing on the bench like others.
It takes ages to gain trust but seconds to lose it.