Interval

Interval Her parents had enrolled her in this prestigious school where children of who’s who society came to study. They were ambitious with regards to her for she had displayed an uncannily intelligent brain in the public school where she had erstwhile studied, so in true parent fashion, on the advice of her former principal they had enrolled her in this elite school. They had scraped their saving to pay her fees, get her uniform & books & even at this tender age she was well aware of the sacrifice they had made on her account. First few days had been difficult for her, getting used to the different environment. She had had difficulty locating her classroom & had in fact entered III-A instead of II-A on her first day. It was only when the teacher started taking attendance & her name was not called out that she gathered courage & stood up, whence forth the teacher sternly asked her “What is the problem?” “Madam, My name not there.” She said in her best English. “Your name not where?” frowned the teacher “Attendance, Madam.” She replied quivering in her new black bata shoes which had cost her parents a week’s salary. “What is your name?” “Meenal, Madam” “Well Meenal, you are not listed in this register, which section were you allotted?”, the teacher inquired after running her finger acrossthe open register in front of her. “II-A, Madam.” “My dear girl, cant you differentiate between II & III.”, the teacher said at her acerbic best, it was the first day at school for her too after a good holiday & she was not overtly happy about getting back to work. Thus reprimanded she had slunk out of that classroom with giggles & acidic remarks at her new uniform ringing in her ears. That had been day one but by & by she had adjusted to her new school. She sat on one of the last benches & kept to herself. In the

beginning when the science teacher had asked a question to which she knew the answer she had raised her hand. The teacher had asked her to get up & reply. She had replied in broken English & the class had erupted with laughter at her pronunciation. She had vowed to herself never to raise her hand again even if she knew the correct answer. Days passed & she slowly caught up with the rest of the class especially in English but was still diffident to get up & answer questions. During written exams though she scored well & was in the top five students of her class, which surprised her teachers as they had put her down as an average or even a poor student on account of her lack of interaction in the classroom. Teachers started paying attention to her & slowly but surely she acquired a few friends too. Her parents were happy & thought she was too but they were mistaken. Everyday her mother packed chappatis & subji in her tiffin box. In the beginning she had sat alone on one of the steps in the square where children had their tiffin. The square was surrounded by the school building & into it poured children, moment the bell marking interval sounded. She used to eat her tiffin quietly, drink from her matching water bottle; both were pink in colour & had stickers of Alice in Wonderland on them. They had been a gift from her grandmother & she was proud of them. After finishing her tiffin she would go back to the classroom & put her tiffin in the bag. She would sit in the classroom only even though there would be five minutes to go before the bell for next class would sound. As time passed she one day decided to accompany her newly acquired friends during interval & opened her tiffin along with the rest. Smell of aloo-methi sabji wafted out from her tiffin & all the girls sitting around her turned up their noses. “Eeks, how can you eat this Meenal”, said one of them who had mayonnaise sandwich & cheese cake in her big tiffin box. “You don’t have bread in your house, Meenal” asked another. “I would throw my tiffin, if my maid packed this for me,” stated another hoity toity miss. Mortified she had slowly eaten her tiffin, sitting there with them, her stomach full of the comments she had heard & had somehow managed to finish half a chappati with the sabji which till now had been one of her favourites. She had closed her tiffin & told her friends that she had to go to the toilet thus excusing herself. Alone in the toilet she had wept copiously at the injustice of it all & silently screamt at her parents for sending her to this school full of spoilt children. The bell had rung & she had hurriedly wiped her face with her tie & rushed to the class.

On returning home that day she had asked her mother to pack bread for her in the tiffin. Her mother had been concerned “But Meenal Bread is bad for you, you should have chappatis & vegetable, they will make you strong.” ‘What would she know about being strong’, but Meenal kept these thoughts to herself for she was well disciplined girl who loved her parents & knew the sacrifice they were making in sending her to the posh school. She decided to eat alone in the interval from then on. She found a spot behind a pillar in the square where nobody ventured & when the interval bell rang she waited for everybody to leave the classroom & then she would go quietly behind the pillar & finish her brunch. Things continued unchanged this way although she kept doing better & better in the class. Now one day her aunt came to visit them & bought a packet of muffin along with two milk chocolates for her. She put the chocolates in her bag & requested her mother to give her the muffins for brunch to school the next day. “But is that all you will have, you will be hungry.” Her mother stated concerned. “You can make her a sandwich along with” said her aunt coming to her rescue. “But bread is not good for children” her mother replied annoyed. “Once in a while, it will not hurt her” with that her aunt put an end to the conversation. Her aunt seemed like a fairy godmother to her & she for the first time since joining this school looked forward to the next day, when interval bell would ring. The bell rang & she took out her pink tiffin. Very casually she joined her friends & strolled out with them to the square. They made place for in the circle they had formed sitting on the ground. One by one the tiffins opened. All the friends eyed her tiffin curiously. She slowly opened her tiffin to reveal the two delicious chocolate muffins & a vegetable sandwich with the bread diagonally cut across & the side crumbs removed, the handiwork of her aunt no doubt. She passed her tiffin to the three girls sitting around her who in turn extended her the same courtesy. She took a wafer out of one, but was too eager to have her tiffin appreciated to eat anything more. Her tiffin

was returned to her. Miss hoity toity had polished off one of the muffins while the two others had eaten out of the balance one leaving a small crumb for her. But she was no longer hungry; today she was a part of the charmed circle & she was satiated. Sheetal Choudhary