Page 30 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

He narrowed his brow. “These are canvas shoes. Boots have notes. See my cool boots?”
“As long as I am comfortable in them, I am okay with them.”
“Be on the ground before half an hour,” he said. “We must warm up.”
“Sure.”
All along with the tournament, we got through to the final.

***

In Autumn, the willow trees stretched their branches toward the sun-filled skies. As the breeze
whispered through their branches, leaves spiraled to the ground. The school gardens, adorned with
assorted flowers, appeared majestic. The bees sipped the nectar, and glorious butterflies fluttered their
iridescent wings around. Gorgeous. I sauntered around, sniffing the pleasant scent of the garden. And I
smiled at the sparrows that chirped from the roof beams.
“How I wish I were them.” I shuffled on the leaves further. “Eternal blissful life. No worries and
nothing.”
But the school would be closed soon for the winter vacation. My friends jumped in glee to go home. In
a sudden paroxysm of enviousness, I leaned against the wall and burst into tears. “Gosh, I hate going to
my village.”
One morning, Mr. B.N. Batarcharjee took us to the back of the school building for self-study. I lay on
the ground, remorseful for my life.
“Hey you, sit properly!” thundered Mr. B.N. Batarcharjee.
I sat up. “I am studying!”
“What did you say?” He stomped towards me, grasped my collar, and shook me hard. “How dare you?”
“Sorry, sir,” I said, stooping. “Just a slip of my tongue.”
“What good is sorry for?” He grasped my chest-collar and shook me again. “Huh? You contemptuous
bastard.”
“I am not a bastard,” I said, glaring up at the face. “I have a father.”
“You rebellious boy,” he said and dragged me away. “Come.”
I thrust his hand away. “Let go off.”
He stepped back and glared at me and scurried into the staffroom.
Lopon—the most abominable teacher—walked into the class, the next period.
We rose. “Lopon kuzu Zangpo la!”
Lopon gawked at me from the corner of his eyes and thundered, “Sit.” He slammed his textbook onto
the table. “Dorji Wangdi?”
“Yes, Lopon,” I said.
“Come here.”
I trembled as I shuffled up to him.
He rose from the chair, rather awkwardly, and puffed. “How could you?”
“I am sorry, Lopon,” I said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Take this!” He walloped me across my face, left and right. “How dare you challenge a teacher?”
My head whirled. “What just happened?” When the blood oozed out of my nose, I wailed. “Please have
mercy, Lopon.”
“Go clean your nose!” he said.
I washed the bloodstains at the water tap and jumped over the hedges, and slouched into the bushes.
There, I sobbed for like hours. “Go to hell, you curmudgeon!”
A gentle tug at my sleeve woke me. Radhey Shyam, the class monitor, looked down at me.
“I have been searching for you everywhere.” He sighed. “Lopon is calling you.”
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