‘Yes, sir.’
‘I know it.’ Swami hoped that he would be attacked now. He almost prayed: ‘God of Thirupathi, please make Samuel beat me.’
‘Why are you late?’
Swami wanted to reply, ‘Just to see what you can do.’ But he merely said, ‘I have a headache, sir.’
‘Then why did you come to the school at all?’
A most unexpected question from Samuel. ‘My father said that I shouldn’t miss the class, sir,’ said Swami.
This seemed to impress Samuel. ‘Your father is quite right; a very sensible man. We want more parents like him.’
‘You don’t know what my father has done to you,’ Swami thought. He was more puzzled than ever about Samuel’s character.
‘All right, go to your seat. Have you still a headache?’
‘Slightly, sir.’
Swaminathan went to his seat with a bleeding heart. He had never met a man so good as Samuel. The teacher was inspecting the home lessons, which usually produced (at least, according to Swami’s impression) scenes of great violence. Notebooks would be flung at faces, boys would be abused, caned and made to stand up on benches. But today Samuel appeared to have developed more tolerance and gentleness. He pushed away the bad books, just touched people with the cane, and never made anyone stand up for more than a few minutes. Swami’s turn came. He almost thanked God for the chance.
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