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schools, were painted dark brown and had mat- taught me — and I paid very little attention. The 5
ting on the floors. It gave a feeling of extra inten- teacher wrote on the easel blackboard words like
sity to the heat. “bat” and “cat,” which seemed babyish to me;
I suppose there were about a dozen Indian only “apple” was new and incomprehensible. section one
children in the school — which contained per- When it was time for the lunch recess, I fol-
haps forty children in all — and four of them lowed the girl with braids out onto the veranda. /
were in my class. They were all sitting at the back There the children from the other classes were
of the room, and I went to join them. I sat next to assembled. I saw Premila at once and ran over
a small, solemn girl who didn’t smile at me. She to her, as she had charge of our lunchbox. The
had long, glossy black braids and wore a cotton children were all opening packages and sitting Santha Rama Rau
dress, but she still kept on her Indian jewelry — a down to eat sandwiches. Premila and I were the
gold chain around her neck, thin gold bracelets, only ones who had Indian food — thin wheat
and tiny ruby studs in her ears. Like most Indian chapattis, some vegetable curry, and a bottle of
children, she had a rim of black kohl around buttermilk. Premila thrust half of it into my hand
her eyes. The cotton dress should have looked and whispered fiercely that I should go and sit
strange, but all I could think of was that I should with my class, because that was what the others
ask my mother if I couldn’t wear a dress to seemed to be doing.
school, too, instead of my Indian clothes. The enormous black eyes of the little Indian
I can’t remember too much about the pro- 10 girl from my class looked at my food longingly,
ceedings in class that day, except for the begin- so I offered her some. But she only shook her
ning. The teacher pointed to me and asked me to head and plowed her way solemnly through her
stand up. “Now, dear, tell the class your name.” sandwiches.
I said nothing. I was very sleepy after lunch, because at
“Come along,” she said, frowning slightly. home we always took a siesta. It was usually a
“What’s your name, dear?” pleasant time of day, with the bedroom darkened
“I don’t know,” I said, finally. against the harsh afternoon sun, the drifting off
The English children in the front of the into sleep with the sound of Mother’s voice read-
class — there were about eight or ten of them — ing a story in one’s mind, and, finally, the shrill,
giggled and twisted around in their chairs to look fussy voice of the ayah waking one for tea.
at me. I sat down quickly and opened my eyes At school, we rested for a short time on low,
very wide, hoping in that way to dry them off. The folding cots on the veranda, and then we were
little girl with the braids put out her hand and expected to play games. During the hot part of
very lightly touched my arm. She still didn’t smile. the afternoon we played indoors, and after the
Most of that morning I was rather bored. I 15 shadows had begun to lengthen and the slight
looked briefly at the children’s drawings pinned breeze of the evening had come up we moved
to the wall, and then concentrated on a lizard outside to the wide courtyard.
clinging to the ledge of the high, barred window I had never really grasped the system of 20
behind the teacher’s head. Occasionally it would competitive games. At home, whenever we played
shoot out its long yellow tongue for a fly, and tag or guessing games, I was always allowed to
then it would rest, with its eyes closed and its “win” — “because,” Mother used to tell Premila,
belly palpitating, as though it were swallowing “she is the youngest, and we have to allow for
several times quickly. The lessons were mostly that.” I had often heard her say it, and it seemed
concerned with reading and writing and simple quite reasonable to me, but the result was that I
numbers — things that my mother had already had no clear idea of what “winning” meant.
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