When the Truth Finally Spoke

The alarm was ringing, and the light flashed on my face. I heard the sounds of the morning rush—the river murmured, welcoming the new day. The streets were already alive with noise and movement. The sun rose gently over the hills, and a soft breeze whispered through the trees.

I was very happy because I had finished my three-year teaching career. Everything had gone smoothly. I quickly completed my morning routine, got ready for school, and stepped out of my room. It was a quiet morning. The bustle of commuters filled the air, and the leaves rustled in the wind as if whispering secrets to the dawn.

 I got on a bus. The bus fare collector was collecting fares from everyone when a peanut vendor woman came in. She was vigorous and clever-looking, and she smiled at me. I responded to her smile and bought some peanuts. It was very tasty and delicious. A few minutes later, I fell into a dream. The bus fare collector suddenly shouted, “Kozhikode, Kozhikode!” I got off the bus in haste and walked some steps to my destination.

When I reached my school, there was a student’s parent. I offered my hand to greet him, but he refused and shouted at me, “Why did you beat my son?” he said seriously. I explained that he had stolen sweets from other students. The father said, “He never does such things,” and insisted on that. He didn’t argue further, and he complained to the principal. This incident made me upset.

Days rolled on; once, his father called me while I was going to bed now , he said. “Sorry, teacher, forgive me—it was all a mistake.” I asked what the problem was, and he answered, “My son stole a gold necklace from a neighbor’s home.”