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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Death / Heartbreak / Loss
- Published: 01/27/2014
The Slap
Born 1977, F, from KOLKATA, India.jpg)
It is still so vivid. A caricature of a face on the blackboard with a big bun tied on top of the head, big round eyes and a broad smile with all the teeth showing, not drawn to look beautiful, not meant to look vindictive either- a careless, childish scrawl. None of us paid the slightest attention to it and continued with the usual hullabaloo that is so much a part of children’s lunch break.
The bell rang. We took our seats and the class was well in order when our teacher entered. We wished her, she wished us back. Then, she took a long hard look at the drawing at the board. A few of us giggled. Our teacher did not like blackboard scribbling. The monitress nervously jumped up to wipe the board clean.
“Go back to your seat,” she said. The class prepared itself for a scolding, before the lessons ensued. But, all our teacher did was to sit and stare at the drawing. Lost in her own world, oblivious of the forty girls looking expectantly at her to react or to ignore the drawing and start the lesson. She did neither. We began to get restless. After all we were just in class six. We began to murmur and our murmuring soon became loud enough to reuse her out of her reverie.
“Who did that?” she asked. No one stood up and no one was likely to, for the frown was very clearly drawn on her face unlike the smile on the face on the blackboard. There was utter silence for ten minutes, at least. We felt puzzled as to what the fuss was about and why she didn’t just scold the monitress for not wiping the board clean and then go on with the lesson.
Suddenly she broke into a smile. “Come on, tell me, it’s a beautiful drawing,” she said. That took us aback. We giggled at the absurdity of the drawing being called beautiful. “It’s really nicely drawn,” she continued with a sweet smile. But we were still not convinced. She continued her praise of the drawing. Her way with words soon convinced us, a class of twelve years olds, that the drawing was almost brilliant.
At last a shy, thin girl got up and said, “I did it.” The teacher called her up to desk. She walked up, bolder than usual. She stood smiling with joy at the praise she expected. Then came the SLAP!! It left us stunned and betrayed. “How dare you caricature me?” the teacher was shouting as she slapped the shocked girl again and again. We had been tricked. A shameless trick on little children; destroying their world of trust and innocence!! We believed the girl that her drawing was not the caricature at all. Even had it been so, I, today, as an adult, feel that the teacher would still not have been justified in using deceit on little children. So many years have passed. Yet, the sound of that SLAP still rings in my ears….
The Slap(SUDESHNA MAJUMDAR)
It is still so vivid. A caricature of a face on the blackboard with a big bun tied on top of the head, big round eyes and a broad smile with all the teeth showing, not drawn to look beautiful, not meant to look vindictive either- a careless, childish scrawl. None of us paid the slightest attention to it and continued with the usual hullabaloo that is so much a part of children’s lunch break.
The bell rang. We took our seats and the class was well in order when our teacher entered. We wished her, she wished us back. Then, she took a long hard look at the drawing at the board. A few of us giggled. Our teacher did not like blackboard scribbling. The monitress nervously jumped up to wipe the board clean.
“Go back to your seat,” she said. The class prepared itself for a scolding, before the lessons ensued. But, all our teacher did was to sit and stare at the drawing. Lost in her own world, oblivious of the forty girls looking expectantly at her to react or to ignore the drawing and start the lesson. She did neither. We began to get restless. After all we were just in class six. We began to murmur and our murmuring soon became loud enough to reuse her out of her reverie.
“Who did that?” she asked. No one stood up and no one was likely to, for the frown was very clearly drawn on her face unlike the smile on the face on the blackboard. There was utter silence for ten minutes, at least. We felt puzzled as to what the fuss was about and why she didn’t just scold the monitress for not wiping the board clean and then go on with the lesson.
Suddenly she broke into a smile. “Come on, tell me, it’s a beautiful drawing,” she said. That took us aback. We giggled at the absurdity of the drawing being called beautiful. “It’s really nicely drawn,” she continued with a sweet smile. But we were still not convinced. She continued her praise of the drawing. Her way with words soon convinced us, a class of twelve years olds, that the drawing was almost brilliant.
At last a shy, thin girl got up and said, “I did it.” The teacher called her up to desk. She walked up, bolder than usual. She stood smiling with joy at the praise she expected. Then came the SLAP!! It left us stunned and betrayed. “How dare you caricature me?” the teacher was shouting as she slapped the shocked girl again and again. We had been tricked. A shameless trick on little children; destroying their world of trust and innocence!! We believed the girl that her drawing was not the caricature at all. Even had it been so, I, today, as an adult, feel that the teacher would still not have been justified in using deceit on little children. So many years have passed. Yet, the sound of that SLAP still rings in my ears….
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