THE YOUNG GIRL IN THE CORRIDOR

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I was walking along the corridor in school, the edge of my sari sweeping the floor, as the children on the ground wished me with a smile. It was the lunch break, and the usual hustle and bustle was taking place. Luckily, it was a cloudy day, and the sun seemed to have concealed itself behind a particularly fluffy cloud, its silver lining sparkling like the edge of a silver hem. Young basketballers screamed as the ball evaded their grasp, and a group of girls sat on the adjoining parapet, giggling and whispering.

As I reached the end of the corridor, my gaze suddenly fell on a young girl who was sitting alone, hunched over, her eyes on the basketball game. There was an air of isolation that cloaked her, and maybe it was that which attracted my attention. On an impulse, I stopped by her side. She rose timidly, and wished me. “Good afternoon, Ma’am!”

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“Good afternoon, my dear! Why are you sitting here all alone?” My query was instinctive. I expected her to reply that her friends had gone to the canteen, or that she was waiting for someone. She hesitated for a split-second and then gave me a small smile. “Ma’am, I have no friends.” As I looked at her, her smile disappeared, and my heart sank. Her eyes held an expression of sorrow, a trace of embarrassment, which further rent my heart.

“Come with me, child,” I said, holding her by the shoulder. We walked to my room, as we kept talking. Once we were seated inside, I looked at her squarely. She was a willowy girl with a sweet smile. 

“Why don’t you have friends?”

“I find it difficult to retain friends. They drop me after a few days.”

“Who were some of the girls you were friends with?”

She gave me a few names. I knew the girls as they had been brought to my office for various reasons. We continued to talk, as she told me how she would make friends with the girls in her class, but within a few days, they would move away from her to make other friends.

How complicated life seemed for this young girl! How lonely she must have been feeling all these months! I felt overwhelmed at the emotions that drove through me. I could never have survived in school or college without my friends. Wasn’t that the whole point, anyway? What memories would this young girl be left with when she left school?

I looked at her eyes that gazed at me with trepidation allied with trust. I cleared my throat, and began to speak; the words came straight from my heart.

“Child, have you wondered why you find it difficult to make friends?”

She nodded. “They don’t like me.”

I went on. “Now this is what I want you to do. I want you to go back to class with your head held high, and smile at everyone. They must feel that you are comfortable in your own skin, that you are strong enough not to need anyone. I want you to offer to help others. Above all, do not give the impression that you are needy. You are strong. You are confident.”

The girl’s eyes widened as she took in my words.

“Is there a possibility that your classmates feel that you do not like them?”

She nodded a trifle hesitantly, mulling over my words. I held my hand out, clasping her slight hand in mine. It trembled like a little dove as she struggled to control her emotions. The next moment, she smiled uncertainly, saying, “Ma’am, I will do exactly what you have said.”

As she rose to leave my cabin, I added, “When you make friends, please do come and tell me. I would love to know that you are not lonely anymore.” She nodded again, and left.

Two days later, as I sat going through a few dictionaries that had been created by the students, I heard a voice.

“May we come in, Ma’am?”

There she stood, with two girls by her side, their faces wreathed with smiles.

“They are now my friends.” She pointed to the two girls whom she had mentioned to me two days ago. Both began talking simultaneously. “Ma’am… we thought that she didn’t like us…” “This was all a misunderstanding.”

It was a treat to see them together, almost as if a storm had abated, leaving the calm behind. What was even better was to see the broad beam on our young girl’s face, an expression almost triumphant, as if she had won a battle. A battle it had been, for a young girl who had almost given up the idea of having friends in school.

“Stay friends, all of you,” I remarked, “and remember that little misunderstandings can be sorted out by just talking. I want you all to have good memories when you leave school.”

They nodded vociferously and left, holding hands, leaving a silence behind them. I sat motionless for a while, musing over the little joys and sorrows in a child’s life. What seemed like a negligible issue to us adults could often be a huge problem for innocent little minds. I sent up a tiny prayer, my heart filled with gratitude, and went back to my dictionaries once again.

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