Sometimes Reality Is Not Visible, And What Visible Is, Is Not Reality

1 min read

Ubaid Hyder

He was the naughtiest boy in the class. Always a rebel; no homework, no studies, failed in tests and teased the teachers in every possible way he could. Whenever, he would be questioned about his behaviour, he gave reasonless reasons in response. He was a nominated boy in the whole school and considered as a vulgar, rough and a manner less boy with no interest in studies. Teachers would always give him punishments for not doing the homework, disturbing the class and irritating them.

His same behaviour continued further with no ending. One day a teacher had assigned him a very important homework and following his norm, he hadn’t done it again. As the teacher asked him for the reason, he replied that he had fell ill yesterday and it was very difficult for him to come school even this day as he is feeling ill right now as well. The teacher seemed to accept the lie as his weak face always made him look like an ill person. The teacher spared him for not doing the homework and told him to rest.

As the teacher moved on, just then the bell rang and now it was the games class, which he would never wish to miss no matter what. It was the only class where he showed interest. With the rest of the students he also ran to the playground. As the teacher, whom he had told he was ill, saw him running towards the playground, she was amazed. The teacher followed him to the playground and caught him with a cricket bat in his hand. Now the tables turned and it was the time of teacher. He again began to give lame excuses but to no avail. The teacher knew he was lying. “I’m very weak teacher, don’t judge me by the physical appearance, I play to overcome my illness”, ” I’m weak from inside, I hardly get any pocket money”, “I’m sorry, please” he pleaded, but no excuse was going to work now. The teacher punished him for the whole period by making him stand under the hot sun for hours together.

As the school ended and all the students went home, a peon came to that teacher and with a flattering voice told him, “The boy you punished is an orphan. He has lost his mother in a very early age and it still hurts him”. “His father works as a labourer and earns a meagre salary.” And after hearing this, what went over that teacher can’t be written in words…[so I end it here].

Sometimes reality is not visible, and what visible is, is not reality.

(It is a real story and the teacher is my mother.)



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