‘SMDC didn’t send anyone,’ he said.
‘Oh no,’ my mother said. ‘He promised. The officer gave me his
word, Tara ji.’
‘I went to his house, Rani Sahiba. He said he tried. Hard to justify
more funds,’ Tarachand said.
‘We want one toilet. How hard is it to justify funds for one toilet
for seven hundred children?’ my mother said.
‘He said most schools in the area manage without one. Why is Rani
Sahiba fussing?’
‘Ask him for half a toilet. Tell him to make one for the girls. One
girls’ toilet,Tara ji,’ my mother said.
‘Don’t embarrass me, Rani Sahiba. I tried. We need money for so
many other things too. We need to plaster the roofs, make more rooms
and whitewash the building. SMDC said they have nothing.’
Noises came from the corridor. Kids had assembled outside.
‘Make them sit, please,’ my mother said.
Tarachand stepped out to manage the crowd. The children sat
down at one end of the corridor. They faced a wall painted black.
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 I,’ 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.
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