“What have I done?” he does not go out and his innocent face neither trembles nor moves. He looks in my eyes and irritates me.

“You haven’t done anything…but I say…get out…”

“Then why are you sending me out, teacher?”

“I am insane…” I tried to suppress my anger.

“But, Sir…” he pleads his innocence.
I don’t like questions; I don’t like his shirt hanging out of his pants, his ties somehow dangling around his neck, and his untied shoe laces.

“Go out!” I hold him from his shirt collar and push him out of the class. Not that it happens every day in my class, in other periods also he is mostly standing out of the class room, as a punishment. He is not alone. There are about ten other boys like him in the class and they do the same irritating things which annoy most of the teachers. Every day I think of finding some other way but ultimately it comes back to sending him out of the classroom.

It is his smile that troubles me most because I can’t stand that constant smile on his face.

After the summer vacations, when I came back to school, he was the first to meet me at the gate. He had his trademark smile on his face. I thought that on very first day I would have to punish him. Instead of going away from me, he came towards me and shook my hand and said, “How are you, Sir? How is your son? I prayed for his good health.”

“Yes…he is fine…” I was not ready for this. I was so shocked that I almost forgot the decency of manners and did not ask him how he had spent his summer vacations. I touched his cheeks and tried to remove the load of obligation. I had spent past three months in great difficulty.