Topic: A Lesson Learnt By Abdul Lateef bin Mohamed Nasim
arahmanbasrun
A Lesson Learnt By Abdul Lateef bin Mohamed Nasim
Posted on:
2010-06-21
10:55 PM
“Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”
SIR WALTER SCOTT
It was a Thursday afternoon. I had completed my work, and was lounging back lazily, waiting for something interesting to happen.
My gaze fell on my classmate Meena as she stood up and left her seat. Tamil class had always been a bore and Meena always made things worse. She would interrupt conversations that did not concern her. She would pretend she knew things she knew nothing about. She seemed – to us, her classmates – to be a cross between a chicken and a goose (both physically and mentally). And she had the audacity to strut around class with her nose in the air. Despite the fact that we had been shunning her for over a year, she still had not changed.
It is said that an idle mind is a devil’s workshop. As I sat down idly, I started contemplating the myriad ways I could teach her a lesson.
All of a sudden, I felt my hand move with volition of its own. With one long swooping motion, it shoved Meena’s file off the table, and the latter landed on the floor with a thunderous crash. I don’t know why I did what I did. It was a foolish act, done impulsively at the spur of the moment.
My teacher, who was at that time talking to another pupil, turned sharply. On noticing the file on the floor, she shook her head wearily, and asked, “Come on, who is it this time?”
I was immediately Suspect Number One. After all, I was the one who sat in front of the ‘victim’, as my teacher regarded her. Also, I had never been on my teacher’s list of angelic pupils. However, she had no proof, so I feigned innocence.
Unfortunately, Hari and Shivan, two boys in my class, jumped on the bandwagon in pointing an accusing finger at me.
Instead of coming clean immediately then, I continued insisting that I was innocent. Getting all worked up, I asked them hotly if they had actually seen me throw the file. They wavered and admitted that they had not.
I then rashly went on to say that I had an alibi; I had been talking to Raghu, a boy sitting at the other side of the classroom, about our favourite videogame at the time. It was a silly thing to do, as it was untrue, but, much to my surprise, Raghu supported me. I do not know why he did so. He could have been covering up for me, as we are good friends. Or the dreamy boy could have just imagined it to be true, as that was what we usually did in our pastime.
The heavens seemed to be on my side; the bell rang just at that moment and my teacher was forced to let us go without coming to a verdict. I confess that not only was I relieved, but also a little proud of the way I had managed to wriggle out of a sticky web.
Unfortunately, I had given myself a pat on my back far too early. On returning home, I found my mother grimly awaiting me. My teacher had called her, and informed her all about the day’s happenings. She repeatedly urged me to tell the truth, yet I swore over and over again that I was innocent.
I did this with a heavy heart as my mum had always warned me of how seriously she viewed lying. I knew that I had gone too far. However, I was too afraid to confess; I was mired too deeply in the matter and I was sure I would be punished if I owned up. So I accused my teacher of bias instead. I even invited my mother to call my friends if she doubted me. To my dismay, she took me up on my offer. Once again, even more surprisingly, my friends backed my alibi. With visible relief on her face, my mum said she believed me and assured me that she would speak in my support if the teacher brought the matter up again.
I went to school the next day rather apprehensively. I began to breathe more easily when my teacher kept silent on the matter. Two weeks passed. We got caught up with our examinations. The incident faded into oblivion.
However, out of the blue, as soon as the exams were over, another Tamil teacher pulled the three of us – Shivan, Hari and me – out of class, one after the other. The interrogations began.
I was the last to be grilled. Mrs Vickneas, a stern woman known for her no-nonsense attitude, warned me ominously, “Tell me what happened the Thursday before last. Or else…”
I gulped and stuttered, “I was talking to Raghu. You can ask him.” I tried to look her straight in the eye as I said this, like a hardened criminal. But I had a bad feeling that something was going to happen. Something bad.
“I have two witnesses. One saw you hold the file. The other saw you throw it. Own up now. I want to hear your confession. Don’t make this case go to the discipline master.” Mrs Vickneas was obviously not taking the bait.
I flinched. They knew. For a split second, I wondered if I should bring Raghu into the picture again. However, I decided not to; in the end I would be found out, and there was no purpose in antagonising Raghu as well.
I realised that I had driven myself, at top speed, into a cul-de-sac. Too late, I recognized that throwing the file had been a rather petty offence. Lying was on a totally different tier.
I looked down, ashamed. To err was human. But we had to own up if we erred, I accepted reluctantly. Lying just didn’t work.
Thankfully, there were no serious consequences in school; I only had to apologise to Meena. However, my mother was also duly informed of the results of the investigation and I was banned for one month from using the computer for recreational purposes at home. At first, I embraced the punishment, relieved that I had not gotten a discipline record in school. It was only after the school holidays began that the pain of computer deprivation actually kicked in. Many times I felt that the punishment was far too harsh, but my mum never relented.
Now that I have served the punishment, and I look back, I realise it was just. The message has been driven home. If I beat the traffic light, I must pay the fine. That is much better than serving a jail term on top of the fine by lying.
By Abdul Lateef bin Mohamed Nasim
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Today: 2010-09-05, 13:00PM (All times are GMT +08:00)
Topic: A Lesson Learnt By Abdul Lateef bin Mohamed Nasim
