The first day in Shibly’s teaching career was over.
Shibly is a teacher now. His teaching experience is one day. It was not even a whole day. Just a few hours.
Within this limited scope of his experience, how much experience he has gained..!
How many new acquaintances he has made…!
How many new faces he has seen...!
He was not given a fixed timetable today. He had to walk into many classes as a substitute teacher. He realised only today how hard it is to be a substitute teacher.
In many classes, students requested him to allow them to play games outdoors. Students thought that Shibly did not have commitments as a substitute teacher. But, he was instructed to spend the substitute period constructively, strictly not allowing students for any games.
“Mr Shibly…! Your English sounds good. You speak naturally. So try to talk to students in English alone, as much as possible. Everyone wants these students to get good results in the exams. But, regardless of these students’ results, they are permanently stuck in their lives - not being able to move forward - simply because they lack language skills. Both English and Sinhala”, the principal had said before Shibly left for the classes.
“What’s the big deal with languages? Languages are languages after all. Every language is equal and is a medium to construct our ideas and to communicate. Why do these people worry about languages to this extent?”, Shibly thought.
****
Somehow the first day of his career was over. Just after returning to the quarters, Shibly got a sound sleep. He needed the sleep after hours of physical and mental exhaustion.
When he woke up, the wall clock was indicating four-fifty. He felt refreshed.
Just now he noticed the neat and elegant way the quarters had been arranged, though it looked so simple.
It is Izzadeen sir’s quarters.
This is the place Izzadeen sir and his family live. Shibly do not know anything about Izzadeen sir. He doesn’t know anything about him except the fact that Izzadeen sir is the deputy principal and his native place is somewhere in Eastern province.
Shibly got out of the quarters. He had yet to have lunch. He was starving. He had to pray Asr. The only food store he knew was Thajudeen nana’s food store. But, it was far away from the quarters. At least, he had to walk five hundred meters.
Rizwan sir had said there was a food store, close-by. Shibly did not want to meet any new face in this starving condition. Thajudeen Nana seemed much familiar, despite having met him only once in his whole life. It was just after sunset last night.
Is time moving slowly?
“Welcome master, how are you doing? Went to the school?”
“Yeah... I am doing fine, Nana”, Shibly said, “Yeah, I went.”
“You can’t take a day-off on the very first day. Right, master?”, Thajudeen nana laughed, “How is our school? Good?”.
“It’s wonderful. Not only the school but I have also fallen in love with this whole village”.
“Yeah, it’s a good place. But, from time to time problems are rising. Now the principal also got some problems. But, he is a villager and has some political connections. So he stands strong".
Shibly was afraid he would faint out of starvation, while Thajudeen nana was more interested in talking than doing his business.
When Thajudeen nana got out of the shop for something, Shibly entered the store. Four boys stood up showing him to sit on a chair respectfully.
“Sit down, sir”.
They were the school students. They recognised him at the glance, though he could hardly recognise them. Logically, it was easier for them to remember him; they had to remember a single face; Shibly had to remember several faces in this whole village.
“Thank you, boys. But, I will sit over there. You boys sit here”, Shibly went to another small table placed close by.
“Master, having tea or short eats?”, Thajudeen nana asked, coming back into the shop.
“Can I have a plate of rice, Thajudeen Nana?”
“Rice? Rice is over. Haven’t you got your lunch yet, master?”.
Rice is a compulsory element of Sri Lankan lunch. Whatever the changes that have occurred in our food culture over the years, rice has its firm place in our food plate, especially during lunch hours.
Since rice was over, he had to have ‘Paratta’, a kind of Rotti made of wheat flour that is available in all street restaurants. Probably, it must be a kind of Indian food. However, it could hardly ever be a substitute for rice.
Thajudeen nana made curry with Jaffna flavours. Shibly couldn’t be any sure whether it is purely a Jaffna food or a muted variety. Anyhow It tasted delicious.
“It's so sad you didn’t have rice. What will happen if you keep yourself hungry this way? You must eat well at this age”, Thajudeen Nana said, like telling his own son.
After finishing lunch, he prayed ‘Asr prayer’ in the close-by Thayqa mosque. It was the first mosque he had prayed when he entered Marudur last night. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since then.
What a long day it was?
****
Shibly's Diary
When I got into the street after having some Paratta at Thajudeen tea store, the street was so pleasant.
Noon hours were humid. Now, in the evening, it is no longer hot. The sky was blue and clear. Very few white clouds were floating here and there. No sign of raining, at all.
Small boys and girls were returning home after attending evening Quran schools or extra-tutorial classes.
Youngsters were occasionally wandering on bicycles and were standing in the street talking and joking with each other. The scene was a cheerful atmosphere.
Bicycle is a vehicle in common use in many places in Sri Lanka. However, in the upcountry, it is not possible to ride cycles in every place. But, here in Marudur, the topography is in favour of cycle riding, just like other places. Everyone, including grown-ups and girls, rides bicycles here.
I thought it would be convenient to go here and there, only if I could buy a cycle with my first salary.
There was still one hour left for the sunset. In a little while, the western sky would start to get redden. Being home alone, at this hour of sunset is a depressing experience. It was just like a heart-wrenching pain in the heart of a kid whose father works away from home in a faraway distant foreign land.
The thought of going back to the quarters at this final hour of the day just before the sunset made me anxious and sorrowful. For the first time, I felt a sense of loneliness since I arrived in this village.
****
I didn’t want to go back to quarters. I must pass time? What can I do? I remembered Minhaj.
Minhaj had said there is a boarding-room that he knows. Probably you might remember who this Minhaj was. He was the tall-young officer who had been working as a volunteer in the school. He was the one who introduced me to the staff members.
The quarters where I stay is Izzadeen sir’s place. Today is Monday. God willingly, he will come back from Eastern province next Sunday. Before that, I have to find a place and hand over the quarters.
I have time now. If Minhaj is free, we can go together and check the place.
I dialled Minhaj’s number. He said he was free and he invited me to come to his house.
Searching Minhaj’s house wasn't difficult.
There was a street opposite the Mosque. It was a downward sloping road comfortably hiding under branches of the trees.
When I started walking, I could feel it was an affluent neighbourhood. The road was adorably paved and decorated, unlike many other roads in Marudur.
Most of the roads in Marudur were just sand dunes and bumpy. But, not this one. Despite Marudur being an impoverished village, this neighbourhood looked rich. Not everyone in the neighbourhood may be rich. Still, the land prices must be remarkably higher in this neighbourhood than in other places in Marudur.
There were several mansions. I could spot Minhaj’s house very easily from a distance.
I pressed the calling bell.
The door got opened.
Minhaj invited me with his usual wide innocent smile.
I could sense at a glance, soon after entering his house, that a rich neighbourhood does not mean Minhaj is a rich person.
I sat on a sofa, which was considered a luxury in the nineteen nineties. Furniture and the interior design were clearly evident that this family has a rich history years ago, but no longer its financial situation is so affluent.
“Did you struggle to find the house?”
“No. Not at all. It wasn’t difficult. The details you told me were more than enough”.
The sofa had been torn and the cotton was spread all over the house. I simply thought there could be some kids in the house.
“My youngest sister is mentally handicapped. She has scorned all these things”, Minhaj said, “After I talked to you, I went to the washroom. She has done all these things within those two minutes. She sometimes does things on impulse”.
When he said ‘mentally handicapped’, I could understand Minhaj was referring to down-syndrome. What a gift that God has given all of us the ability to function with full mental and intellectual capacity..!
How sad it is to have at least someone with a disability of this nature within our families…!
“You have only this sister?”, I asked.
“Actually, she is the youngest”.
“Yeah, I remember you said she is the youngest”.
“Then, I have an elder sister. She is in the teaching field and another younger sister in her university first year”, Minhaj said. “My younger brother is in his university second year”.
“Your father?”
“He passed away. It’s long since he died. More than fifteen years”.
I could understand he wanted to talk more about his father.
“Actually, my father had a rice mill in Polonnaruwa. It was our family business. My father passed away after a sudden heart attack. All of us were kids then. Even my elder sister could not be more than ten years old. On one hand, we were grieving for Wappa’s death. On the other hand, we found ourselves bankrupted”.
“Bankrupted?”
“Yeah, none of the business properties was in my Father’s name. All agreements have been word of mouth agreements. We couldn’t claim anything. We got some eye-washing settlements”.
“Who were the partners?”
“They were all our blood relatives”.
“Blood-relatives?”
“Almost all the good things and the bad things happen in your life, because of blood relatives. Not because of others”.
“Then, what happened? Anyone helped?”.
“I won’t say no one ever helped. But, no one can replace a Father’s role in a family. Am I right?”
“Yeah, I can understand”, I said emphatically.
“My mother became a young widow, with five kids. She didn’t have any professional skills. She had only sewing skills. Fortunately, many garment factories were opened, at the time. She worked as a garment worker. That’s how we were brought up”.
“Now, all of you are educated”.
“Yes. Two of us are University graduates. Two others are University students”.
“Al- hamdulillaah… Al-hamdulillaah (All praise be to God)”.
“Shibly, I just thought of sharing these things with you. I am so sorry”.
“Don’t be sorry. I am honoured for you had your trust in me. Just consider me as your friend”.
I couldn’t believe I had met him just today. My acquaintance with him is not at least twenty four hours old. But, I felt like we had an era of friendship.
“What about you, Shibly? About your family?”, Minhaj asked me.
“I have only one sister. Both my parents are teachers. My grandfather was a teacher. Our family has had a monotonic history at least for the last fifty years. No huge ups and downs”, I said.
Just now I realised how stable my life has been when compared to Minhaj’s. I studied well, entered university, and graduated as a degree holder… Everything happened in my life naturally.
It doesn’t mean I got all those out of no effort. But, they were just part of myself. I just started thinking how my life would have been, only if I was in Minhaj’s position. It was unthinkable.
“My sister got a diploma and got married. Now it's my turn to get married”, I said.
“Then, we could look for a bride in Marudur itself”, Minhaj said.
We were talking for a few more minutes entertainingly.
Minhaj received a text message in between. His face got darkened and became dreadful.
“Our principal… Our principal”, Minhaj was stuttering.
“He is dead”, his voice was sounding as if coming from deep inside a well.
If I said ‘I got shocked’, it is just a truly understated statement.
“Principal……….. What?”, I exclaimed.
((To be continued))
_ _ _ _
* Characters, events and the places in this story are fictional and a mere product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real-world events or characters is merely coincidental.
** Vijayapura and Marudur are fictional places.
Riza Jaufer
Akurana - Kandy,
Sri Lanka
