हाफ गर्लफ्रेंड

Did you mean: My mother held her forehead with her right hand. 'You okay?" I said to her. She nodded. 'What's SMDC?' 'The School Monitoring and Development Committee. A government body meant to help rural schools. They come, watch and leave. Nobody ever helps anyone." The lights came on. The fan above started to creak. The cool breeze felt wonderful on my sweaty skin. My mother leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, enjoying the fan's breeze. "Why are the children sitting in the corridor?" I said, disturbing her reverie. "Huh? Oh, that is class L.' my mother said. The morning shift had classes I to IV. Classes II. III and IV used the available classrooms. Class I used the corridor as their classroom. I looked outside the staff room. Kids sat on the floor, waiting for my mother. 'Help me with enrolment. Villagers don't like sending kids to school.' my mother said. 'But Ma, I want to teach as well,' I said. "There's lots of other work, Tarachand ji is hopeless at paperwork. 'Sounds boring. It's important. I need someone to keep records and lobby with the authorities. I don't have the energy." I took a deep breath and nodded. Like the school. my mother was turning old and weak. 'Ma, can't we pay for some of these repairs?' I said. My mother looked at me. I knew the answer from her expression. "I try to give what I can. We hardly have money to repair the haveli. You were studying in Delhi, so I had that expense. Don't have much." I felt guilty. I wondered if I could have served my mother better by accepting that HSBC job. At least I could have sent her a cheque every month. "We manage. Don't worry, I'm happy you're here," my mother said, reading my mind. 'How?" I said. 'I take no salary. I pay the staff. If something breaks down I pay for it. Beyond that, it is difficult. The government is supposed to aid us. They don't.' "What about what we earn from the fees?' 'It's nothing. The fee is five rupees a month. Even then. many students don't pay on time. If we are lucky, the fee covers the electricity bill. "The noise levels in the corridor increased. A cacophony of conversation, laughter and screaming drowned our conversation. Look at them. Noisy monkeys. I better go.' my mother said. She walked out. The difference between seventy kids on their own and seventy kids with a teacher can be immense. In an instant, the class fell silent. I spent the rest of the morning reading all the files and documents related to the school. I quickly realized that running a school of seven hundred with a staff of four is no joke. 'Okay, start counting in English,' my mother shouted outside. 'One, two, three... the kids chanted in unison. I didn't know whether these kids from the village would ever use their knowledge of English numerals. Still, watching them leam something felt good. It felt better than watching a movie at a Delhi multiplex. It felt better than the posh party at Riya's house. 'From now on, these kids are my life. I told myself. 17 Six months later 'You promised. Sarpanch ji.' I said. using a hand fan to cool myself. I had come to his house a third time. Sarpanch Gopi, the man in charge of Aamya village, had assured me that every child in his village would come to school. His wife brought us two glasses of lukewarm sattu, a roasted powder of pulses and lentils mixed in water. I wished it was a little cooler and less sweet, but drank it anyway. The sixty-year-old