Childhood Pangs

And then there was this day whence we were supposed to get our hall tickets for the SSC examination in my school and my classmates had gathered well in advance in our class.
I was still contemplating whether to attend the same or not but I had a Hobson's Choice as I had to had the hall ticket else would have been debarred from the SSC exam
My fears were compounded by the fact that I had not attended my send-off party in school , lest my classmates make fun of my inferior-second hand clothes.
My school teacher was a wonderful lady and she was a strict disciplinarian.
I trundled late into the school on the D-day and met some classmates in the aisle with a halting enthusiasm and a shameless smile.
I had guilt writ large on my face and firmly imprinted in my heart and mind
Life had been thoroughly unkind but then I blamed no one ,as there were many there less fortunate but less shameful than me.
I made a misery of sorts by complaining that I had Mumps and couldnt speak much ;ipso facto that was the pang of guilt that held me tongue tied.
I entered my classroom and was greeted with a rousing a silence and many an unfriendly gaze. This was surprising , as the friends who had been with me in school suddenly found me a misfit amidst them and I had no choice but to retain that lump in my throat and wanted to run away far far away from the maddening crowd
It wasnt their fault but crows and humans have one thing in common-lynching
I took my seat in a forlorn corner waiting for justice to be meted or the decree to be heard.
My class teacher espied me from her twinkling eyes and boomed ,"Look who do we have here!" for the entire class now getting an official treat to feast their eyes on this lonely crow ,sulking delightfully in that abandoned seat
She told me to stand up and asked me questions in front of the whole classroom ,thereby publicly exposing the shame I had--my eyes tried to betray the tears that kept falling and these gathered like lumps on the periphery of my nictitating membrane
I tried to speak but my Mumps declaration did not allow me to do so.
My school teacher then let out the icing on the cake---" You look like a drunkard!"
The whole class looked at me with pity-anger-sympathy-empathy
I stood defeated-bruised-destroyed-marooned on an island of misery and collected my hall ticket calmly --did I have a choice--the answer was no

Some events of your life awaken you from your stupor and create ripples in your life whenever they can and however they can
Human Memory in this aspect is not fallible and pays ample tribute to the dangerous milestones one has had in their lifetime