Unwanted Jewel : Chapter 3

1986

A tough summer passed in Bangladesh with major violent election riots and strikes mainly involving students of Dhaka University both either in protest or for moderate political parties.  After much commotion Bangladesh finally gave the majority vote to H. M. Ershad, the newly elected president.  Adeela missed her old home far away from the city where she never had to hear about crimes and corruption or worry about going out for a walk without getting kidnapped.  Now she was in a big loud city with rude people who only believed in bribery.  She didn't like the new president.  He looked like someone she really hated.

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He picked up the used up chalk which squeaked on the board from its disturbing friction as he wrote the following equation.  He called out the formula that he was writing with his deep frigid voice, “ln(x+2)+ln3=ln39.  Solve for x.  I want the correct answer.  Come on, quickly!” 

“I heard he once failed a student for turning in homework an hour late,” whispered a girl from the back of the classroom.  The tall man’s greasy head turned right away towards the back of the silent room while all eyeballs quickly dropped down as he walked with a rapid pace, face red.

She was going to pee in her pants of fear.  It was her first day of class in her new boarding school which was already turning out to be a very unpleasant morning.   Her crazy teacher stood in front of her and picked up the paper that was lying on her desk.  He stared at the paper and gave out a neglectful little laugh.  “And you are—“ 

“S-s-sir, Adeela Islam” she completed.

“Your name will not do you any good in this room of 90 students.  I meant to ask for your roll number young lady. Do you understand?”

Her heartbeat quickened and she felt heat from all around her while she stood there in front of the huge class of ninety 13-year-olds. She was only 11 years old, but brilliant in math. “s-s-s-sixteen sir”, she answered. 

“What is this you wrote? 3(x+2) = 39 is not what I asked for.  That is not the correct answer you hear me? I asked to solve for x and you did not do so.  Instead, you delay your work and decide to gossip about me behind my---”

No! He had it all wrong! She wasn’t the one who was talking during his lecture. In fact, it was a girl sitting right behind her.  He was mistaken, and the girl behind her was so horrified that she had no guts to confess to their “sir”, who was holding a thick wooden cane behind him, that she was the one who was whispering to Adeela.  He walked perfectly fine without a cane.  So if he walked fine, they all knew why he had it.  “I—i-i wasn’t finished, sir! I ………I was simplifying it to---“she gulped, “—t-t-t-to to.. solve for x which would be equal to 11.  I wasn’t talking behind your back, sir!  B-b-believe me s-s-s—“

Bam! She dropped down to her knees when she felt the pain on her behind from a hard wooden stick.  She was ordered to put out her hands forward faced up, and the next thing she knew, the man hit her hands hard 5 times with his cane.  Her hands were red and shaking.  She let out her tears after the last hit that pushed her out in front of the classroom, on her back, right where her spinal cord was.  “That was for interrupting an elder respectable teacher, lying, and insulting me in front of this class.  Now get out of this room and see me after class.  I have work for you, number 16.” 

Teachers called her roll number 16 because there were way too many students in this all-girl boarding school to keep track of by name and the only way to get special treatment by a faculty and staff was to be physically violated. 

After that first day of school she called her oldest aunt, the one relative who lets her stay during holidays, and told her all about the horrible school regulations and the problem with her along with others getting brutally hit for no good reason.  The hits left bruises and sometimes puss, blood, and infections.  Her aunt, however, along with many other parents who sent their kids to this school took it quite lightly and all they had to say was, “Oh honey, they are only trying to teach you discipline. Don’t overreact.  The end-result is always worth it.  Boarding school makes you a very smart and educated woman with good disicipline.” 

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Adeela made a friend who was coincidentally her roommate as well as classmate.  Her name was Sarah.  Sarah was a really sweet girl who was a few inches shorter than Adeela, with long silky hair and dark brown skin.  She would say she got punished more from headmasters because she had darker skin color.  Especially their math teacher who despised Sarah.  Adeela always had this wrong vibe whenever she was around that crazy man.   The first time Sarah got bruises from a teacher, Adeela asked her why she never showed her parents the marks to prove that she really did get hit violently from teachers.  Sarah nodded and said, “oh no no, you don’t show bruises to parents.  I have 6 other siblings.  I’ve seen what happened when they showed amma and baba their bruises.  They got even angrier and hit them more!” 

It was awful.  Boarding school was like boot camp.  This wasn’t any noted boarding school that the professors felt proud of, but just a place where parents sent off their undisciplined girls because apparently they couldn’t take the full responsibility of raising them themselves.  They weren’t really learning anything, just memorizing poems, equations, and world facts, which they will forget the next year.  The teachers taught less and assigned more, and the food was not only unhealthy but too little.  The bathrooms lacked sanitation and the water was never warm. 

Weekends were the worst, when half the girls went home to see their families.  Adeela remained at the hostel where she never could sleep because of the commotion older boys would make.  It was funny how a boys’ boarding school had 10 times better security than this school.   It was hard getting out of the school during weekends when they had permission.  A crowd of young men would always stand near the gate to bother the girls.  Adeela chose to stay inside her prison of a room, being called number 16.  She would rather be called a number than be called inappropriate names by perverts who were sometimes even old enough to be an uncle or a father.