The next thing I could remember and I really wished
it had all been a bad dream. Was that i turned around from chanting “sorry you
hear”, to accepting the “Sorry you hear ” for myself. Okay! Okay !! I know it
sounds funny but i just couldn’t keep it
together anymore.
My head were on my folded arms over the locker.Their hands were now on my head,
including the girl crying beside me. I had actually started sobbing so hard,
she felt touched and stopped her crying to console me.
Me, I refused to be consoled, it’s like the more they
tried, the more I cried. Choi! I can never forget that day, even the white kids
came over to console me. The proprietress was amazed and then curious about the
reason for my crying. After her failed effort to get me to talk, I guess that
was when she put a call through to my Dad’s office.
The crying and sobbing moved in a rhythmic tempo. When
I think of my mum and home, I will resume the crying. It got so bad that
everybody stopped consoling me and left back to their seat.
With the exception of one person, one person didn’t
give up on consoling me. The person’s impression on me was so strong, it made
me stop crying. I plucked up the courage and raised my head to see the face of
the person. From the foot wear I knew the person was white and a girl and had
this strange garlic/onion fresh smell.
And lo! The nicest and most humane face I ever saw,
she had the look of a cherub. Our eyes locked for a bit and in my eyes she saw
my gratitude plus all those other things Dad pretended not to see. I saw in her
own eyes genuine concern and compassion. The look was fast but intense enough
to create a bond, a new understanding, a new friendship, a different world and
a different me.
She was of Indian descent and as I later found out
also the only child of the proprietress. If I had not seen the other “white kids” before now, I would say she was a
little angel. My very own little guardian angel and morale booster.
So, that was how my first day of school phobia
ended. From that persistence, that reassuring voice, that I will never give up
on you stance. From a total stranger,
who saw beyond race and colour unlike her Mum…
Finally, Dad came shortly after break time trying to
cajole me into telling him what went down in school. My eyes were all puffy and
bloodshot I refused to say anything, before the whole emotions come flooding
back. I was quiet all through the drive home and was mad at him for taking me
to that place called school.
The familiar faces at home was very reassuring and boy was I glad. But the event at school was
too fresh and I was ashamed to tell them what triggered my emotions. I later
did and got laughed at for it but was commended by Mum for my compassionate
heart.
My parents suggested that I rest the next day which I
declined. “ Daddy I will go to school I will be fine” .Truth be told, I wanted
to confirm if all that happened was not a dream. I needed to see that nice girl,
I don’t know what I will tell her, but let me just see her…
That’s how at my young age I became the protagonist
of the movie of my life with this Indian girl, both of us sharing puppy love.
Disliked and picked on by the mother, tormented by girl bullies: who always had
my lunch box, frustrated by another kid: who always wanted to ride in my place
on the swing. But she was always there, always got my back until she left for
her country for further studies.
