The bully

by Rupa Wijesinghe

Many years ago, surrounded by marshy land and a thick growth of trees, stood the only school catering to the children of the nearby villages which were under developed. All the students walked to school, some, short distances and some, long distances. The buildings were not well constructed, though the extent of the land was large.

There were cadjan sheds, with only the basic facilities. The Principal’s office, and a few other class-rooms were made with bricks. The staff was small, and there was a separate room for them.

Education

It was here, that Amare, who lived in the vicinity, received his education. He was about thirteen years old, dark, appearing bigger than his age. He was well-known in the school for his stubbornness, callous behaviour, and for bullying his fellow students who were, very often of a smaller stature than him. The complaints about his to the Principal and class teachers, were many, specially with regard to his use of abusive language, and threats of assault to his classmates.

Behaviour

Amare had a tendency to be arrogant, and adopted a ‘no-care’ attitude towards the teachers who were rough with him. His teacher in his new class at the beginning of an academic year was Mr. Dhanapala, who though a strict disciplinarian, was kind and understanding, and had a deep knowledge of psychology.

So many were the complaints he received about Amare, as class teacher, that it made him feel he must do something to reform this child.

There was an underlying problem to Amare’s behaviour, and it should be looked into tactfully, and solved, thought Dhanapala Sir. The day Amare assaulted a student in his class, punching him in his face with his fists, till he bled from the nose, the Principal was determined to punish him severely. But this was averted by Dhanapala Sir, who believed he should be dealt with in a different manner. “We should listen to Amare’s explanation too, and give him an opportunity to do so”, he argued.

Soon after, when the other children were in the playground, Dhanapala Sir, summoned Amare to the class, and spoke to him with affection, winning his confidence.

“Have you any brothers or sisters, Amare?”
“No Sir, I have no one.”
“What about your parents?”

He was silent for a while. Sir noticed his eyes welling with tears. “My mother died a few years ago, Sir.

She loved me so much, and I feel her absence every day”. He looked down, and sobbed silently, wiping the tears with the palm of his hand. “My father too loved me, Sir, but he married again, and she does not like father being close to me”.

“What makes you feel that way Amare?”

Bully

“Amare, whom so many thought was a thick-skinned bully, broke down again, sobbing like a little child. Sir got up and closed the door so that no one would see him.

“She makes all sorts of allegations against me, unimaginable ones, and complains to father, who sometimes believes her.

“He then thrashes me. He has hit me mercilessly sir, for deeds I never did.” He looked up sadly - “If Amma had lived.”

“What are the lies she says about you?”

“Father once lost some money, and step-mother said she saw me giving it to Sethan who is my father’s enemy. But I saw Sir, with my own eyes, her taking the packet of money and giving it to Arnolis Mama, the Village Headman, who comes when father is away at work.”

“Why, to the Village Headman?”

Amare looks around, and utters softly, “People say, he has a love affair with my step-mother. It’s true. I’ve seen them together Sir. She thinks I sneak to father.”

“So, what did father do?”
“He thrashed me with a leather belt till I fell in a faint.”

Dhanapala’s heart was filled with grief. Here is a boy just beginning his ‘teens’, torn between conflicts, from a broken home, a victim of circumstances which have had a drastic impact on his life, and at whom everyone looks as though he is a hard-core criminal.

Called

Dhanapala had a son of his own, the same age, who got everything he asked for, and the one thing he received without asking was parental love, which Amare lacked. Hate, revenge, resentment, were slowly and steadily taking hold of Amare, in place of love, kindness and forgiveness.

“Why did you hit Pala?”
“Sir, he called me by a nick-name, which made me feel that everyone despises me. No one likes me Sir.”
“Don’t say that. I’m there for you. I love you like my own son.”

His face lit up. His teacher was determined to pull him out of the “pit” he had fallen into. He realised Amare had a longing for love, concern and kindness.

On Tuesday, mid-morning, during the school interval, when the students were out in the school compound, a loud thud was heard. Someone had aimed a big stone at the mango tree, and it had fallen heavily on the roof of the Principal’s office, breaking a few tiles. The boys ran helter-skelter, and, as usual, Amare was labelled the culprit, though he denied his having even been there at that time.

The Principal was furious. He locked him up in a room stacked with broken desks, tables, chairs, and decaying planks, with hardly any space to move. Amare was to be there till school was over.

A short time later, walking past the closed room, the Principal heard noises.

Amare was pushing and jumping on the broken furniture, and even banging on the door. “Hm”, muttered the Principal, “even this type of punishment won’t calm him. He’s such a hardened boy.”

Just half an hour before school was over, the sounds in the room had subsided.

“Well”, thought the Principal, “Amare is such a crafty person, he knows to be quiet now, so that he will be let out soon. I’ll keep him for an extra while to teach him a lesson.”

When the Principal finally opened the door, while those who wanted to jeer the “big bully”, looked on, Amare was lying on top of the broken desk tops, unconscious, and what more, to everyone’s horror a huge snake slithered away from near him.

Mourned

Amare was pronounced dead on admission to Hospital. The whole school mourned his death. The villagers were furious. The Principal was interdicted, and dealt with appropriately.

The snake was killed. The saddest of all was his class teacher, Mr. Dhanapala. He looked at the corpse, his heart beating with sorrow. If he had not taken leave, Amare would have been alive.

Life is full of second chances for everyone, and failure could be changed to success through new endeavours, or different attitudes. Why wasn’t this realised, by at least those who were moulding his education, he mused. He was too late. His heart cried out in remorse.