The Wailing Sirens
I wake up muttering "Forgive me! Forgive me!" It was another nightmare. The shrill wail of sirens is beating at my eardrums. My wife Sonali, offers me water; frowning over my restless sleep. I know that she is worried. This has become a ritual since that hated day. But I can't offer her any explanations. She asks, "Are you okay?"
How can I be alright when my conscience is haunted by these sirens? They follow me everywhere.
But to her I say, “I just need some fresh air to remove the cobwebs of the school from my mind. I am going on terrace." I move out of the room. May be I will get peace in the arms of serene winter night. May be the stars can conquer these sirens.
It all started with the school tour to Shimla, Queen of Hills. Ayesha, my daughter wanted to go to school tour of Shimla to watch the snowfall. That day, she had cried herself to sleep. My jewel, my princess was in tears and I was helpless. How can a teacher who earned Rs 8000 per month give Rs 5000 for a school tour? The school fees, the household expenses, other educational expenditure for Ayesha- all were already burning a hole in my pocket and now this tour? I had promised myself to give her the best of everything. I have failed and that too miserably.
But then the opportunity itself knocked on my door. Sushil was an intelligent student but he met with an accident on the way to his exam. Because of that he was late by one hour for the examination. His father offered to pay me Rs 10,000 if I let him complete three hours for the examination. I knew he deserved a chance and it was nothing wrong; just a small concession for an intelligent student and my daughter's dreams. I accepted the offer. In a single stroke I was gifted with my daughter’s happiness and credit for the success of a deserving candidate.
But what I forgot that the claws of the evil are poisonous. That poison can sneak its way in one's mind and heart with a single contact. Another hindrance and I was fully in the clutches the evil. The hindrance came in the form of my wife's accident. Sonali met with an accident while walking. Her foot twisted badly. The doctor informed that her ligaments were damaged and she needed an operation. Cost of operation was Rs 30,000. I was dismayed. I took the loan of 30,000 from one of my friends but I still needed to pay them back. In desperation I decided to take the path which I had avoided until now. Like other teachers, I started accepting commission from the weaker students to pass them. Once the process started, I was unable to say no other weaker students. Slowly the money started trickling in. We were not rich by any standard but we were far off from the grasp of poverty. It continued for one year.
Then Ayesha decided to join MBBS coaching. She wanted to give medical entrance next year. I was shell shocked after hearing the fees of the coaching. Even with the extra income, I was not in any position to afford the fees. But accepting the defeat would have meant letting Ayesha's dream wither away. Then Mr Bansal introduced me to “Other” ways of earning money. I can charge the richer students to give them higher marks. I argued with him that it was unprincipled. It would affect the morale of the hard-working students. But I understood principles do not have power to fulfill the dreams. It was a tough fight between the principles and Ayesha's dreams. But in the end, my principles submitted themselves to the dreams.
I started charging students to increase their marks. I was able to pay Ayesha’s fees.
After one term only, a girl named Sanjana, came to me in tears. She accused me of my crime and told me that she would complain to the school Principal. If required, she will go to police. I tried to explain her that I will help her but she was not ready to budge from her decision.
My career was going to go to pieces before my own eyes. I knew nobody would understand my motives or my actions. Destitution of Sonali and Ayesha marred my good sense. Without another thought, I decided to stop her. I picked up the projector and hit her head with it. It started bleeding. There was blood everywhere. I called the Principal and told everyone that she had taken a fall and hit herself on the projector. Nobody doubted me. I was a teacher, a builder of student’s career. How can anyone doubt me?
She was taken to hospital but I knew it was a futile attempt. I had made sure of that. She died of excessive bleeding.
My career was saved. But I murdered my peace along with Sanjana. It has been two months now and I can still see her blood on my hands. The mirror reflects her image instead of mine. I have made several anonymous calls to police station but my courage fails me every time.
And the sirens, they are my cross to bear, my companion, my only hope of redemption, my biggest fear- the sirens of the police van.
