A principal’s heart melts

Sanjeev Suri

I WAS a student of Class VII at a government senior secondary school at Nagrota Bagwan, Himachal Pradesh, in 1984. The principal, a devout Sikh, was strict, making it difficult to take leave. A student had to appear before him in person to get leave sanctioned and no one wanted to do that. 

I needed to take leave in May to attend a wedding ceremony of my cousin at Batala. My parents had already left to help with the arrangements. The very thought of meeting the principal sent a cold shiver down my spine. Mustering courage, I entered his office and sought three days’ leave. His eyes seemed to pierce right through me. An official from the education board was sitting in his office, so he could not engage me in a long conversation. He granted leave, warning me: ‘Three days mean three days.’

When my teachers and friends learnt that I was going to Punjab all by myself, they were surprised as Punjab was then in a deadly grip of terrorism. But the allure to go to my hometown was  so  irresistible that no bullet could suppress it. 

The next morning I boarded a bus for Batala. Just as the bus entered Punjab, I was gripped by fear. Only three days ago, terrorists had hijacked a bus, ordered passengers of a certain community to get off and shot seven. I was scared. When passengers got in the bus at various stops, I would eye them suspiciously. The journey seemed endless, but finally I alighted at my station.

After attending the wedding, we had to leave for Nagrota the following day. But when we woke up, the entire town was surrounded by the Army and announcements were being made on loudspeakers, asking people to remain indoors. Indira Gandhi had sent the Army to flush out terrorists holed up in the Golden Temple. We were stuck. I had mixed feelings: I was happy at the idea of staying there for a longer period but was afraid of missing school, thereby earning the wrath of the principal.  

After a fortnight, we left for home. With great anxiety, I reached school. I did not agree to my father’s suggestion of accompanying me as parents at school were a rare occurrence! The child would become the centre of attraction for all the wrong reasons. 

The principal spotted me during the morning inspection of classrooms and was furious. He asked me the reason for missing school without permission. I told him the things my elders had been discussing at home and how the sanctum sanctorum was harmed in the cross-firing during Operation Bluestar. I saw pain and sadness on his face. That was unusual. We had only seen angry expressions on his face. While hearing my account, he kept silent, and moved his lips soundlessly. At the end, as he was leaving the classroom, he turned to the teacher and told her, ‘Help the boy make up for the lessons he has missed.’