The bald headed girl

Kanchana's white scarf aroused my anger towards her careless mother. I can remember last year, my first day at this school, she was wearing a black scarf. In the morning assembly when I saw a scarfed head among bear heads;

“Are there Muslims in this school?” I asked my neighbor.

“Not only Muslims, Tamils are also here. This is a good example for ethnic unity” She said.

“Only one Muslim girl?” I exclaimed.

“No, many.”

“Don’t they cover their heads?”

“Here they don’t cover their heads. Maybe because most of them are mixed. Tamil Muslims or Sinhala Muslims. Do you mean that girl wearing a black scarf? She’s not Muslim. She’s Sinhalese. Her hair is shaved bald. That’s why she’s wearing a scarf.”

“Bald?” I was astonished. How can a girl come to school with a bald head!

“Yes.  Lazy mother! It’s easier for her to shave once a year than clean every day. When eggs and lice cover the head, she shaves.” She explained.

I was sorry for the girl. What an unlucky girl she was, to have such a careless mother! I remembered how my mother looked after my long thick hair when I was a child.

This year she is wearing a white scarf.

“Why did you let your mother shave your head? You’re old enough to keep your hair clean. Aren’t you?” I asked when she came for the lesson. Her normal playful mood vanished and she remained silent, digging the floor with her big toe.

“Bath and comb your hair regularly. Keep your hair clean and healthy. Don’t let your mother cut your hair. It looks ugly.” I advised.

 “It’s not my mum madam.” She broke the silence.

“Then who does it?” I asked

“My aunt.”

“Does your mum allow her?”

“I don’t have a mother madam. I’ve never seen her.”

Oh my God! Was it a dead person I had accused?

“Ok, don’t let your aunt shave your hair. You look after your hair.”

I sent her to the seat and started the lesson. But her words echoed in my mind. “I don’t have a mother madam. I’ve never seen her.” ”I’ve never seen her.” “I’ve never seen her.” “I’ve never seen her.”

Then, last year, my neighbor in the morning assembly, why did she accuse her mother? “Lazy mother!”  It puzzled me.

“What do you know about Kanchana?” During my free time I went to her class teacher and asked.

“The naughtiest girl in the class! Behaves like a boy.” She replied

“I know that. I meant about her private life. family and parents?”

“That’s the reason to be naughty. Her mother has gone with another man when she was a baby. Her father has taken another woman. She is ill treated by her step-mother.”

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I have transferred this blog to http://whatsmileshide.w3red.com/ but don't worry If u prefer blogger, I'll update both!

Little Orphan

           The bell rang for the fourth period. The timetable shows "Grade 6". I continued my work until they came.
           They came and occupied their places as usual- I understood by the noises they made. but still there was a shadow near the door. I looked at the door without raising my head. A pair of little bare feet had located in the door way. My eyes traversed from feet to head. A new face!
"Are you a new comer?" I asked. The girl said nothing. The hesitation was written all over her little face.
" Are you in grade 6?" I stood up and asked.
" Yes madam, She's from our class. She was absent" A talkative student replied on behalf of her.
"Oh! that means you've added  3 more weeks to your holiday? What's your name?"
"................" She muttered something.
"Please talk louder" I went to her.
"Lakmini!" the representative shouted.
"See Lakmini, you've come in the middle of the lesson. How do you catch up previous lessons. This is a new subject for grade 6. What in the world were you doing these 3 weeks? Tell me, why were you absent?"
She kept silent.
"She had a funeral madam." again the representative.
"3 weeks! a week is more than enough for a funeral" I took her cold hand and fetched her to my table.
"Now Lakmini, tell me who passed away?" I sat on my chair and asked, taking her closer to me. A nasty smell emanated from her.
"No representatives please." I avoided the answers from the other students. I wanted to make her talk.
"Switch on your computers and continue your work" I said to the rest. Then I turned to the little rabbit expecting her answer. Her face hung down. drops of tears wetted the carpet.
"Ok dear take it easy. Everyone in the world dies someday." I stroked her dirty head.
"Is it your grand ma?" I tried to get the answer from her.
She shook her head and began to sob.
All my attempts to make her talk went in vain. Questioning grew her sadness. I left her alone and went to the 'representative' and found out it was her father that had died.
A little later, I went to her.
"Dear, I know its very sad, but what to do? There are so many fatherless people. I also lost my father. Be happy. You have your mother. Help her with her work. Come to school regularly. Study well. We'll help you. Don't cry!" I tried to console her, but she did not stop crying.
"Madam her mother had also died when she was a baby." the representative interjected.
I was shocked. Many questions popped up in my mind, but I did not ask. I thought of a remedy.
I guided all the students to play a game, joined Lakmini to a group. I could see that she was recovering little by little. There was a smile on her face.
"So Lakmini, was it interesting?" I asked at the end of the period
She smiled sweetly. She was fully recovered.
"Did you enjoy?"
"Yes, madam" her voice raised.
"Let's play another game tomorrow!"
She smiled. All the black clouds had blown away.
"Do you have any sisters or brothers?" I started questioning.
 "Yes madam, I have a brother. He's in grade 3" She has become talkative.
"With whom do you live?" I tried to come to the point.
"With our grandma. She loves us very much"
"How does she earn your living?" I asked.
"She goes house to house and does some work. they give money, food or clothes. Sometimes I go with her too." she replied.
Now I had to hang my face to hide my tears. The carpet was wetted by my drops of tears over her dried tears.

12 year old "housekeeper"

 After the religious observance the gate was opened. The late comers entered one by one, heads hanging with the weight of guilt. Dinesh was among them. I was surprised. The cleverest, most obedient, enthusiastic student in the class.
"Look Dinesh is also among late comers!" I pointed out to one of my colleagues nearby
"Why, haven't you noticed? he's always late." She said.
" Really? Only today I checked late comers. but it can't be. He's a good boy- for what I've seen in two months"
"Yes, He's a good boy. That's why the principal doesn't punish him"
"What? He doesn't punish for that fault?"
"Dinesh is allowed."
"Why? It motivates him to come late. Delay is not a good habit."
"That's true, but can't help, he has many responsibilities."
"What do you mean responsibilities? he obviously doesn't have kids to look after does he?" I said with a tone of humor
The expression on my friend's face remained unchanged, thoughts of humor disappeared from my mind
"Yes he gets up early in the morning, makes tea for his two younger sisters and father, cooks breakfast and lunch and  prepares lunch packets for the four of them. Then he readies his two sisters, one for the school, the other for Montessori. After that he takes his youngest sister to Montessori. The teacher comes at 7.30am. He has to wait until she comes to handover the sister. Then he comes to school with the other sister. First he drops her off at the primary section. Then he comes to the senior section. The time is almost eight then. The school... "
"enough! enough! I can understand" I closed my ears with both hands. My head was spinning. How much of a  load can a child bear on his little shoulders while doing his school work so perfectly?
" Why? can't you bear his story? Most of the students here are like that. They bear more loads than a normal child could"
"What has happened to his mother?"
"She's abroad. a housemaid in the middle-east"
"Why doesn't his father do the household chores and free the poor child?"
"He's a laborer. He earns, spends more for drinks, a few for the family. How can a drunkard  look after children- In fact he beats them. I think his mother has gone to escape him."
"It's unbelievable! A 12 year old boy looking after himself, his siblings and father, and smiling through it all!"