[If you are happy and you know it
Clap your hands] – 2
If you are happy and you know it
Then you really ought to show it
If you are happy and you know it
Clap your hands…
And the loudest clap and stamp and pat and hurray came from little Aryan, as he skipped and jumped and hopped all around the class. The little bag of wildest mischief was all of 5 years and yet gave tough time to the 2 pretty teachers of his Upper KG. The teachers dreaded this little child, for they knew not what new prank was born in his naughty little head the next minute. Come lunch break and he would be there teasing, pushing and bumping into every child, ever trying to run out of the classroom at the wink of an eye. Miss Sharada had already complained twice about this to his parents in a note in his diary, but got no response.
If you are happy and you know it
Then you really ought to show it
If you are happy and you know it
Say Hurray…
The bell for the lunch break rang and kids jumped up from their places and made a run towards the door. A chaos that was so bewildering that the teachers had to march right in the middle of the herd and take some disciplinary actions in the effort to organize them into lines and walk them to the toilets… Having washed his hands, Aryan casually sneaked in behind Sumit and quietly wiped his hands on his shirt. He then hopped his way towards the classroom, tripping Riya on the way, pulling Gina’s long plaited hair, a nudge of an elbow to Irfan and a bump into Sohail before he landed on his seat with a thud.
"Children! All of you put your heads down, close your eyes… all of you… cmon" came the shrill voice of Miss Sharada, as she put the kids to their afternoon nap after the lunch. Every two minutes, Aryan would pop up his head and look at his classmates, all amused at how peacefully they slept in weird postures. Then he would take out his pencil slowly and poke the kid next to him. The teacher would call out his name…. "Aryan, put your head down". Sometimes he would be punished by the teacher. "Stand up on your bench Aryan!" This was a punishment he looked forward to, because it would give him a better view of the class and outside the window. He would then watch the seniors play in the ground for the entire hour. An hour passed and the evening bell rang.
The kids all got up with double the energies, rushed towards the exit doors, down the lobbies, breaking the queues, pushing each other to get to their Mothers at the earliest. The mothers would scoop up their kids in their arms; give them a little peck on their cheeks, and the happy kids would elaborate in excited tones on the events of the day. Sometimes they got a dairymilk, sometimes a packet of gems from their moms, a reward for being away several hours. Aryan was the last to exit the class, walked slowly to the corridor where his maid waited for him. She picked him up, took his bag and water bottle and walked silently towards the red Ford Fiesta parked outside the gate. As he clung on to her, he noticed the other children being kissed and pampered by their mothers, narrating the whole day’s events to their mothers in a hyper excited tone. Aryan clung on to his maid a little closer. His little fair hands thrown around her dark neck, with his head buried at the nape. He could smell the sweat that drenched her, he could feel her damp skin and clothes and a sour stink that emanated from her dry, parched skin. But this sour stink, the clasp of those strong, bony arms, was far more warm and comforting than the empty air that surrounded him… the void that made him cry out secretly at times. The same stillness that woke him from a deep slumber at the dead of the nights… when his little room with all his favourite cartoon characters on the walls frightened him… he would cling on to his snoopy, like he clung on to his maid. The eventful part of the day was already over and what remained were the drab, lonely hours dedicated to an endless wait for his parents to return from office before he fell asleep.
