By Nyoikhaw Pansa
Friday--- my favourite day.
head to toe, all-white uniforms today.
aloo pulao for breakfast,
and chicken for lunch---a royal feast.
but fate had other plans for me.
I set out to see a sick friend,
a breakfast plate steady in my hands,
moving like an earnest courier---
when nurse ma’am handed me the key,
the golden pass to my dormitory
and the one next door.
“ just my luck--- now I’m the chosen one, ” I thought.
fast -forward--- I’m rushing back,
towards the sea of girls waiting,
because I knew the Aravali and Nilgiri girls
would be standing outside, impatient,
probably cursing whoever had the key.
that’s when I spotted two familiar seniors
marching towards the school infirmary.
a key rescue mission, no doubt.
trying to be helpful, I called out:
“ Di, I’ve got the key!”
big mistake.
they stopped, eyes narrowing like courtroom judges.
“if you had the key, why didn’t you come faster? “
oh, here we go.
“I just got it from nurse ma’am. didn’t have it before.”
but no, that wasn’t good enough.
“still, why didn’t you hurry back?”
“because I just got the key!”
I wanted to yell.
but you know how it works ---
hands behind my back, head down --- respect.
lunchtime arrives.
I should be sinking my teeth into delicious chicken,
but instead, I was summoned to the neighbouring dorm.
a council of class nine seniors awaits,
ready for my trial.
same question.
again.
and again.
and again.
“if you had the key, why didn’t you hurry back?”
a broken reel, replaying itself.
I tried reasoning ---
“ I got it from nurse ma’am…
was visiting my sick friend…
rushed back right away…”
but reason was never the goal.
they just needed someone to blame,
for making them wait a little longer.
one of them starts singing,
“masoom chehra nigaah-e farebi...”
wait ---what?
what is this? a bollywood courtroom drama?
another chimes in,
“dekho dekho, jawab de rahi hai!”
“well, what did you expect? you asked a question“
I muttered inside my head.
by the end of their theatrics,
they handed me my punishment
like queens bestowing judgement.
“from tomorrow, sweep the Aravali house floor. for a week.”
I stood there ---head down, hands back. no talking back.
“what? sweep the neighbouring house floor?
for what? holding a key?”
I voiced inside.
and so, I missed my lunch,
missed my golden, savoury, perfectly seasoned chicken ---
lost to injustice.
but hey, at least the absurdity was worth a laugh,
a memory inked in irony,
a story I’d never forget.
still…
between you and me,
missing my lunch stung more than sweeping floors.