Where’s the Watchman?
Can it be true? I still wonder
It was half-past four in the afternoon.
In about half an hour the sun will swiftly go down. Evening sets early in these parts of the country. But day breaks early too, at four in the morning!
The bell rang, signalling the end of a day in school. Holding her bag, she ran to the school gate. Her mother was to pick her up.
Where was she? Among the multitude of faces of mothers, she looked for her mother. The crowd dwindled. Only seven were left …five..two…there was no one left. No sign of her mother. She cried when she didn’t find her mother. Wiping her tears, she made her way out of the gate.
I was watching from the window of my office. I had joined recently as the principal of her school. For a long time, the school had no principal. I did not bother to know why. For some time I was in search of a job. So I grabbed the opportunity.
The school was housed in an old building on the outskirts of a block of five villages. It was, in fact, an unused mansion inside a sprawling compound that belonged to the now-deceased Zamindar (an aristocratic land-owner) of that area. After he died, his wise son had gifted it to the government. The government had a hospital operating from the mansion because the present building was not yet constructed. The hospital building took almost a year to complete. The hospital shifted to the new building with all the doctors, nurses…
