A Confession

Feb 26

A True Story

After coming back from recess, we all took our seats, and simultaneously our Sanskrit teacher, whom we respectfully called *Panditji*, also entered the classroom and went straight to the blackboard for writing the topic of the lesson.

Before he could write anything, he saw a word *Panditwa (पंडितवा)* already written on the board. He lost his temper. "Who did this?", he demanded. But there was no answer.

Panditji left the classroom in a huff and went straight to the class teacher, Chand Sir, who began his investigation in his James Bond-like manner.

Being the monitor of the class, I was called and asked by Chand Sir, but I expressed my ignorance, as I was not in the classroom during recess.

Then he asked me to bring notebooks of Hindi and Sanskrit of ten notorious students. After some time he returned those notebooks and asked for my notebooks. Finally, he called me once again to announce his verdict,

"We have matched all the letters of what has been written on the board with those in your notebooks, and we find that letter *"त"* is almost exactly the same as yours. Tell us whether you wrote that word. We won't ask why. Sometimes even good boys can play pranks like this. We assure you, we won't tell anyone."

This came as a big surprise to me. I was not prepared for this at all. I was so demoralised that I could not utter a single word in my defence. I was then 12 years old and considered the most brilliant student of class VIII.

I couldn't control my emotions that made my tear ducts quiver and tears started rolling down my cheeks.

My silence was taken as acceptance, my confession. Chand Sir gave me his handkerchief and asked me to wipe my tears and go back to my class.

True to his words, neither Panditji nor Chand Sir told any teacher or student about the incident. The matter was forgotten after some time by all concerned, but not by me. It remained like a thorn in my heart.

After completing plus two, I went to BHU for my degree course. After about five years, I wrote a short letter to Chand Sir, stating inter alia,

"I'm out of class now, and school too. Sir, it doesn't matter now to you or me whether I actually did that prank or not. But since it still stings me, I want to set matters straight. I was so pained at that time that I could not utter a word, but I swear that I did not do that mischief. Even now I do not know who was the culprit."

I took the burden off myself by sending the letter. I felt relieved of the burden I had been carrying for so long.

After about eight months, I met Chand Sir at Varanasi Cantt railway station, where he had come to see off his son and I was going to appear for SSB interview.

He came running to me. I wanted to touch his feet, but he hugged me like his lost son. "Teachers can also err sometimes, they are human beings after all," he muttered to me.

Now both Panditji and Chand sir are no more, but I know that their memories and blessings will never fade away.