PrEm Ji

WRATH OF LETTERS (Short story)

 

WRATH OF LETTERS

 

Two weeks long study leave for students.... actually it is a period of relief for lecturers like us. I logged into poetfreak.com and started reading the wonderful poems of Bono. ‘She writes only about love,’ some poets used to criticize... But, how difficult it is to write every poem about love, keeping on finding out the immense untouched aspects of love? That nobody considers at all! Really cruel, even the poetic world! 

‘Sir....,’ my concentration was distracted by a first year student. His appearance was something like that of lamb trapped in front of a hungry lion. ‘Where is our Chemical Engineering HOD?

‘I don't know.... He might be there in the canteen’

‘He is not there, Sir’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘My elder sister wants to meet him’

‘O.K.,’ I called him over mobile phone and he appeared in two minutes. His sister, she looked like a Bollywood heroine, sat before him. Suddenly, clouds of fear rushed into the face of that young boy of sixteen. He was getting more and more pale. He was fed up of so much uneasiness...

‘Hey… you… stand outside,’HOD told him mercilessly and started talking with her. He, she and me… only three people remained in the office and I was the sole witness…

‘Sir, I am Sandhya…. Akhil, my brother, is not attending classes now-a-days.,’ she said.

‘I have noticed that... That’s why I summoned for you… What’s the matter?’

‘Sir, he says, he is afraid of the senior boys… and he cannot understand Mathematics… But, Sir, he was a very bright boy during school days.’

I could see him standing out though the window…. Alpha, beta, gamma, delta… differentiation… signs of integration… all were moving through his mind like mating venomous snakes… Where to hide? He didn't know....

‘Poor boy,’ I felt pity for him.

‘Seniors… they will not treat him bad… There must be some other reason…’ HOD said.

‘No specific reasons, Sir… He says that he won’t be able to learn engineering…. But, an Engineering diploma is nothing for his caliber. He is very afraid of writing exams…’

‘O.K … You leave that matter with me… I will help you to find out someone to give him tuition.’

‘Thanks Sir’

She was about to leave, but the admirer of beauty in him didn’t allow her to go.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Sir, I am a software professional at Techno-park. My husband is also working there. My father got retired as chief engineer and my mother is still in Government service… an under-secretary’

‘At secretariat?’

 ‘Yes Sir… ‘Sandhya, you groom him to a wonderful Chemical engineer…' those were the last words of my father… I have to do justice to him… I can realize that with your help…’

'O, she cares me much…,’ HOD thought... Poor man was not aware; she was simply blowing up his ego! The conversation went on for almost one hour and all the while he was enjoying her beauty like a leach, which hadn’t seen blood for several million years!

Premji, please call him inside,’ HOD told me.

Head down, Akhil stood before them. He was almost trembling with fear. Poor lad…

‘Akhil, from today onwards, you will attend your classes regularly,’ HOD warned him. ‘No seniors... Nobody will threaten you… If at all any such things happen, you come and tell me... Understand’

‘Yes Sir,’ his words were not clear as he didn’t have the most importance of all things… Self-confidence…

Suddenly Principal called HOD through the intercom.

‘See… I have an urgent meeting with our Principal…. O.K. Sandhya… There is nothing to worry… He is a nice boy… He will attend classes regularly and write down examinations,’ HOD went out immediately. She too was about to go happily.

‘Excuse me Madam… Can I speak with you for a moment?’

‘Sure… Sir’

‘Akhil, you please wait outside’

He went out and she took her seat immediately opposite to me.

‘Mrs. Sandhya… Is he suffering from any sort of mental depression?’

‘No...No... but, how do you know that?’

‘Just by watching his face, I could understand that… What I have to say is this… Just leave him… Let him learn whatever he wants… Or if he doesn’t like to learn, don’t pressurize him… He is not confident enough to learn Engineering.’

‘How can a lecturer like you give an advice like this? Are you going to ruin the future of a student? It’s a matter of our family’s prestige…,’ she got angry.

‘No… I am trying to save his life…’

‘H.O.D knows how to manage guys like him…. Sorry, I don’t require help from a less experienced lecturer like you,’ she walked away, burning with anger.

Anger makes women more beautiful and the men mad!’

Semester examinations started and I was in charge of conducting exams. It was a Friday and there were no examinations in the afternoon. I was a bit relaxed while sorting the answer scripts of Mathematics Exam, which we had conducted in the morning.

‘Premji, we have to go Ulloor, a place near Trivandrum,’ Principal told me.

‘Why Madam?’

‘We have to attend a funeral… One of our students had committed suicide in the morning,’Chemical Engg HOD said. ‘You know that boy… He and his sister came to meet me two weeks back… Do you remember?’

‘I remember… But, I would like to ask you something… Sir, did you know that he was a mental patient?’

‘Yes’

‘Then… I am not coming….’

‘Why?’

‘Because… you killed him…’

‘Premji, you better keep quiet… If anyone comes to know about your statement… that’s all… they will burn this college,’ our Principal told in panic.

 

Premji

 

  • Author: PrEmJi PrEmJi (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 18th, 2021 10:20
  • Category: Unclassified
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Comments2

  • L. B. Mek

    see, as dramatic a tool - 'death', can be utilised for
    in a narrative with purposed ambitions, to shock
    and shake-loose
    the many, from wilful ignorance's: safe
    shallow waters of obliviousness..
    rarely, does it do true justice, to those
    who bravely choose to cope, gripping their lifeline methodologies
    for mere daily survival..
    many a song is sang of the dramatized, caricatures
    for suffering's literary depicted, victim heroes..
    but let us also - I beg, take note
    of the Many, who simply 'bare with it'..
    no, their tales aren't enticingly and harrowingly romantic - a read
    but their lifetime of unvoiced suffering, is worthy
    of any Poet's: empathetically worded story
    that: I guarantee...

    • PrEm Ji

      Thank you Sir...
      I still can't forget his face and her arrogance...

    • rosiedm

      Is this a true story. It happened? And writing about it here has it helped?

      • PrEm Ji

        Sir, it happens in places where parent’s decision overrides the dreams of siblings.

        • rosiedm

          It's terrible.. Your child doesn't belong to a parent..a parent is to let the child s dream happen to quide him or her to a best life for their own happiness not the happiness for a parent.. Today so many children are not listened to by peers
          We all must listen to children let them speak and be valued too.

        • 2 more comments



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