"I am sorry, Sir," Khushal said promptly. "I
did not do it deliberately. It just happened. But, I am very sorry."
. "Is this your playground? Why don't you play
in your school compound?" the man shouted.
Brijpal went up to him. "Sir, we are sorry for
what happened. Our school compound is very small." "That is why we play here everyday," Bipin added.
"And this is how you play here, isn't it?" the man said wryly. "I'll go to your headmaster. Then
you will leam how to play and where to play."
Khushal and Brijpal pleaded. "Sir, please excuse us. We will be careful in future." The man did not appear to be satisfied. I thought I could save the situation. I picked up
his cap to hand it over to him. He snatched it from me. I could not remove the 'gulli from it.
Turning round, he started walking rapidly towards the school. All of us followed him, begging his pardon all the way. But he wpuld not listen. I stole a glance at my friends. They all looked mournful. I too was scared of the headmaster's temper.
The man entered the school building, and went straight to the headmaster's office. The peon outside
tried to stop him. He just brushed him aside and went in. We could hear loud voices coming from within. All of us were praying silently. We had crept to the courtyard facing the headmaster's
room. We tried guessing the conversation they were having and the consequences. Soon the
peon came and called us. One by one we entered the headmaster's room. "Who is responsible for all this?" he asked in a thundering voice.
"How many times have I told
you to keep within the school compound?" We looked at one another. No one could say a
word. The headmaster raised his voice, "Are all of you dumb? Why don't you speak up?"
I made bold to reply, "Sir, we are sorry. We
shall be careful in future." The headmaster merely said, "Apologise to this
gentleman, all of you." "We have been begging his pardon, Sir," it
was Brijpal. "You must apologise in my presence," the
headmaster insisted. We chorused, "We are very sorry, Sir."
"O.K. boys," the man said and turned towards
the headmaster. "And thank you, Sir." He looked
satisfied, and moved towards the door.
Just as he was going out and we were about to leave, the headmaster asked, "Now, whose stroke was it?" I looked towards Khushal. He was looking at me. I looked round. My heart was beating faster
and faster. But how could I blame my friend?
With a sinking feeling, I decided I would take the blame. A faint smile played on the headmaster's
face. Somehow I felt it was not for any punishment that the question was asked. I opened my
mouth to reply. But Khushal was quicker. "Sir, it was my stroke. I am very sorry." "What a stroke!" the headmaster exclaimed.
"You strike the 'gulli', hit a man's cap, make it
fall, and then land the 'gulli' inside it! A master player, no doubt!" I could not suppress my laughter. But I could not laugh in the headmaster's presence, either.
So, I checked myself and with some difficulty managed a wide smile. When I looked round,
the others were also trying to suppress their laughter.
We were eager to go out and have a hearty laugh. The man with the turkish cap also turned round at the door. He too looked amused. Still smiling he went away. We trooped out of the room. Then we let ourselves go.
