(Naeem Baig)
Nine one are nine, nines two are eighteen, nine three are twenty seven….
The whole class was singing the table in chorus rocking back and forth like Church bell pendulum in rhythm.
Class five of an old middle school of village Punj Darya on the far eastern part of the country was known for its classic traditional way of teaching and villagers liked it.
It was hot morning of an early September with scarcely breathing in suffocated air. Scattered pieces of clouds were floating on the sky yet the sun was pouring heat. A small blackboard rested on the cracked wooden legless easel was set leaned on the majestic and perhaps the oldest tree under its thick shadow.
A small chair sat along the blackboard for the teacher. It appears an empire of him. Attendance of the class was thin; only seven students were present sprinkled in semi circle on the naked yellow grass facing the blackboard. Many students skipped the class as Friday was their holy day as they were told.
Peela School named on its yellow grand building was, once in operative decades earlier, surrounded by green fields. Long Veranda in front of the straight line of the rooms, a big open hall in between the rooms for morning assembly had reflected the traditional structure of the schools in colonial era, which had lost its dignity long before. By the passage of time it had transformed into ruins. Now its wreckage with only few walls left are used as villager’s toilet.
Far behind under the shadows of big mango tree, school teachers meeting were going on. They had sat to discuss the country’s politics and religious issues as usual. The school had only three teachers and they used to sit together for morning gossip before they set themselves for classes. In fact recent legislation made by the local Assembly was the prime issue. They were calling it new Law.
“Abdul Rehman, your class is rigorous.” Head Master grinned pointing at class five who were still rocking the table loudly.
“Sir, I believe lesser students show sensibility.” Abdul Rehman said in obedience.
“So what did you say about new legislation the other day Assembly passed.” Abdul Rehman had religious wits and orthodox perceptions which had left him with no other option but to become a school teacher despite he had tried to go for civil service.
“They say new technology was misleading the children,” Head Master thoughtfully continued. “And now they have put ban on cellular phones in schools and colleges. They think that students are not much mature and they might plunge into immoral course. The legitimate use is strange to them until they acquire maturity.”
“That’s very correct; Sir and I think they have taken wise step to eradicate evil in the beginning.” Abdul Rehman said in absolute agreement. “I have often snatched mobile phone from my students when they bring it here in classroom.”
“Yes, they must not use mobile phone while studying?” Nafees, the third teacher said in agreement. “I do believe in serious study? Yet you can’t rule out its necessity while they keep it in their bags. Its 21st century and communication is hard to be pushed away back in Stone Age, rather we should have educated them about its use.”
He continued. “Their poverty, lack of standard nourishment, denial of their basic rights in health, education and protection added with ruler’s imperialist approach has turned people’s psychology to take refuge in the emerging communication.”
“It’s not matter of under nourishment and their security; it’s a great nuisance which this small piece of box contain. If you allow me I would say its Satan’s device and a tool for deception. At least it should have not been in classrooms in their bags.” Abdul Rehman argued in groaning voice.
“What did you say? Satan’s device, tool for deception, it’s surprising for me? Its great disgrace for the progressive mankind, and what classrooms you are talking about, sir?” Nafees said in croaked voice.
“Do you call it classrooms?” Nafees pointed at the students over the far end of the open plot.
“A bunch of scared students sitting on naked grass under open sky and heat pouring sunshine, having a few books, their muscles dreadfully haggard with lash-beating could make no class. “And then why don’t you make a law to stop beating lashes in school by teachers.” Nafees was aggressive and assailed directly on his fellow teacher.
In fact he had conveyed his sneer to the teacher who had been infamous for beating school boys.
Abdul Rehman wanted to respond Nafees, but Head Master suddenly got up.
“Let’s get to the classes.” Head Master terminated the meeting instantly. The teachers quietly followed him and got up from their chairs and headed towards their classes.
“Class rise,” Shaira holding small stick in his hand growled. As a class monitor he had developed a habit of holding a stick in his hand when he is even at home. His mother had called him out of her love ‘my Monitor.’ All children holding small table-books in their hands stood up except Khalid. He was sitting far behind the teacher’s chair taking shelter of the tree. He looked up with his blank eyes watching Abdul Rehman entered into the circle of student and sat on his chair staring on his pupils. He didn’t bother to stand. Shaira starred on him pointing stick on him yet kept quiet in presence of the teacher.
“Sit down, children,” Abdul Rehman said politely. He was in charge of class five.
“And Khalid, come to me.” To the strange of the class, teacher didn’t react on Khalid’s misconduct for not standing in the class.
All boys blinked their eyes watching their teacher and stopped repeating table. His unusual polite voice had replaced his usual growling vulture.
Khalid hesitantly stood up and walked toward the teacher. He was scared. The whole class was now watching interestingly both of them as they knew that four lashes would be awarded on the both hands of Khalid on his misconduct.
Abdul Rehman grabbed Khalid’s arm and looked in his eyes which were looking behind him. Abdul Rehman followed his stare turning on his back. Suddenly he realized at the far end of the horizon, thick black wind clouds were appearing so quickly that might reach on their heads within a few seconds. The top of the trees started swinging in the air.
Abdul Rehman quickly dismissed the class and stood up. He asked Shaira to ring the bell for break. Shaira ran toward the bell and students packed their books into their bags and stood up. Within moments the black windy dust clouds were on their heads and rumbled. The lightening crashed on their heads in the sky and thunder deafened their ears and everyone imagined the cries of the doomsday.
Terrified and scared by the storm, screaming children run away for taking shelter in the ruins of the building. Within a minute or so, it started torrential rain everywhere. Power of wind pulled the ground from Abdul Rehman’s feet and it thrown him a few feet away smashing him with the old guava tree. A sound of some explosion came into his ears. Perhaps on the far other side, some ruined wall had fallen.
The blackboard and its broken stand swung up and fled away in the air and lost as if some magician worked with his magic stick. It was no more any school, any children or anything else. The trees in the field were rocking back and forth with the whistling wind of the storm. Darkness covered everything like a misty night. It dominated everyplace within the human vision.
Abdul Rehman heard someone sobbing in a frightened voice with pain close to him. It was Khalid who has taken shelter under the old tree gripping one of its half cut branches where suddenly a heavy branch had fallen on him. His legs were suppressed under a huge stem of the fallen tree. He was crying in extreme pain pointing to his legs with blood oozing from his forehead. Abdul Rehman tried to push back the stem but failed. He screamed to call someone for help but chaos around him left his own voice echoed in the air.
No one was there. No one was listening.
Amid Khalid’s cries and teacher’s yelling for someone to help, Khalid with his trembling fingers pulled out a mobile phone from his pocket and gave it to the teacher.
“Sir, perhaps it may help us.”
