A small opportunity presented itself one Saturday. It was the last lesson of the week and the boys in Miss Das’s class were getting restless. The noise levels kept rising; there came the sound of a chair crashing and someone shrieking. Singh stood up to get a better view. Miss Das seemed to be on the verge of losing control over her boys. Sensing an opportunity, Singh almost ran towards her classroom. A chalk fight was in progress. Miss Das was standing in the middle of the war zone, pleading, ‘Children, I told you before and I’m telling you again: the Good Book says there’s a time for everything. There’s a time for playing, there’s a time for studying . . .’

‘What on earth is going on?’ Singh boomed, striding into the room. It was as if a blaring television set had suddenly fallen silent because of the power going off. Even Miss Das seemed to jump out of her skin. Singh asked everyone to stand up. The class rose, expectant and nervous. Miss Das moved to the front where Singh stood with his feet apart, his hands folded across his chest. After inspecting the damage for a few seconds, he ordered the boys to pick up every piece of chalk and throw it in the dustbin. The sound of shuffling feet filled the room—the kind of silent shuffling one hears when a group of people enter a dark theatre and the movie’s already begun. The only other sounds were those of whispering and the taktak of chalk hitting the bin. Everyone went back to their seats and observed Singh with big round eyes. The ten year olds looked nervous, like the audience of an experimental play in which any member of the audience can be called upon by the actors to become a part of the performance.

Singh threatened disciplinary action if he saw any more chalk flying around. The boys made a solemn promise. Miss Das walked out with Mr Singh and thanked him quietly. Singh shrugged his shoulders as if to say ‘boys will be boys’. He wanted to look friendly but found himself getting nervous and rigid. When Miss Das smiled he couldn’t smile back. Instead, he kept looking at her arms. She felt his eyes on her and immediately pulled her sari around her shoulders, covering them in translucent blue fabric. She said thank you again, this time without smiling, and walked back to her classroom.