Till The Count Of Five ✓

Chapter 13 (Part 2)

Chapter 13 (Part 2)

Nolan

5th August 2017, Saturday
13:25

I sat on the couch that was placed outside the auditorium, not bothering to go in the smelly place filled with disoriented people, clothes and screaming Samaritans. In England, we had our share of annual days but it was nothing like this. I was half confused and half amused at the extravagant preparations for the day of rehearsal, leaving it to my imagination to think what the annual day would look like. Students stumbled in and out of the hall in wrong sized dresses. I made the mistake of pointing out to a mime artist that his tee didn't fit right. The string of curses that followed made my knowledge of Hindi language shrivel up and cuddle in a corner of my brain. I did not dare say anything thereafter.

"Are you going to sit here?" Pankaj asked.

I nodded, shifting on the sofa and making space for him. "We're allowed to, aren't we?"

He smirked. "Teachers aren't allowed to hit students but they do anyway. Things work quite differently here, in case you haven't noticed by now."

I joined in April and I had to say I definitely did not have any knowledge of Indian schools' woking.

Swarm of students rushed out of the Auditorium and spread in both directions, running and walking, shoving and screaming. Pankaj hit me on the shoulder and said, "Just watch what happens." So I did. I watched teachers chase them and grab those who were close. The rush began to subside but it did not disappear.

"They're being kicked out or what?" I asked and leaned back.

Pankaj grabbed a junior by his shirt and repeated my question.

He answered, "Only the students of classes ninth and tenth can go in. Rest are supposed to move back to the class."

This was a very nice way of moving back to the class.

"That's our cue, then," Pankaj said and got up. Noticing me, he gestured.

I shook my head. He grunted and walked to the doors of the auditorium. After knocking for about a minute, he stepped back, stumbling a little and stared in horror.

"But I am in tenth," he said.

I moved to the edge of the couch to get a better look.

"Where is your ID card? No proof, no way in."

There stood the little Samaritan, scowling at him while her glasses threatened to fall if they slipped another centimetre.

"But I am in tenth!"

"Prove."

"Look at me."

She did a look over from head to toe and shook her head. "You're short for a tenth grader."

The door shut right at his face. He mumbled incoherent words and walked back to me.

"Short for tenth grader? I'm taller than her," he said.

I consoled him. "Maybe she meant a short supply of intellect." He gave me a bewildered look. "Just saying. She's known for her comments."

"Is she?" He smiled sarcastically. "I only know her because of you."

He pulled my hand. "Why don't you come with me? You're wearing an ID card."

I shook my head.

"Are you scared to-?"