The Shades of Spring

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

Hammad was having a bad day. Ms Sidra was absent from school and it made him feel very very blue.
Normally, he wouldn't mind the silence, but with Sidra, things were different. She was different. She hadn't judged him like the other teachers. Ms Sidra was a friend who understood how his mind worked. He had been angry with her for all the wrong reasons. Adding to the misery was the fact that his mother had told they wouldn't be going to the library today.

It's my fault, he thought miserably, if only I'd behaved myself the past few days, Ms Sidra wouldn't be angry with me.

He was wallowing in self pity when Dawood came and sat next to him. Dawood was feeling guilty since the rumours caught his ear. He heard everything that transpired in Ms Sidra's class and how it affected her as well as the child she was working so hard on turning around. His guilt stemmed from the fact that, it was him Blaise saw exiting Sidra's class after a particularly nasty row with his own class teacher; he had sought Sidra's advise and she'd done her best in as few words as she could manage. But in her trademark fashion, Blaise had decorated the incident to try and sway Sidra. Because Sidra was the only teacher who did not suck up to her.

But if he really did need help, and couldn't confide in another teacher, what was he to do? Over her time in Wisdom, the relationship between Sidra and Dawood had steadily grown from teacher-student to mentor-protégé. She had helped him out of tight spots with her words. No matter how big a problem seemed and how useless it made him feel, five minutes with Sidra made him feel special. She had that effect on them all. And that is why he had gone to her.
Now his action had crippled Sidra's connection with the child who needed her more direly. So to him, he was the offender and they were the victims.

After days of thinking, Dawood figured he should put in his oar in a more helpful way. Hammad was a good start.
"Hey, Hammad. Lollipop?"
Hammad scrutinized the older boy, suspiciously. Every big boy had always picked on him since day one or ignored his existence when he'd been a starry eyed basketball fan. Now, here was a school Basketball team member offering him lollipop. "I don't like lollipop," he replied curtly.

Hammad was sure Dawood was building up to something. Longer the buildup, bigger the blow. But he wasn't in a mood to get up and walk away. But Dawood didn't look like he was here to bully. Dawood was acting strange and Hammad couldn't decide how to handle it.

They sat quietly for some time before Dawood tried again,
"You know that big boy? The one with the blue cap?"
Hammad shook his head. "He is also Hammad," Dawood said.

Hammad sulked and Dawood almost regretted coming over. But he didn't give up, "You're in Ms Sidra's class?"

Hammad smiled at the mention of her name and Dawood latched onto the topic. "I know her too. She's a nice person, isn't she?"

"She's my friend."

"Mine too. She's absent, isn't she?"
Hammad nodded sadly.

"Why are you alone?"

Hammad gave him an incredulous look that said Seriously? You don't know?

"I'm alone too," Dawood risked putting an arm around the child, then caught Hammad glaring and quickly changed his mind. "My friends are playing basketball, but I hurt my leg, see?" He pulled up his pant leg to show the bandage.

"How did you get hurt?"

"A friend pushed me."

"Did you hit him?"

"No. Of course not."

"But he did hurt you."

"It was an accident. You don't hit people for accidents."

The younger boy mulled over the idea, "Maybe. That's what she also says."

"Ms Sidra?"

"Yeah. Yusuf put my bottle down and I hit him. She told me not to hit him because it was an accident. He said sorry after that."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

More silence followed. But Hammad broke it this time.
"Why did you come to talk to me?"

Dawood was surprised by the question, when he didn't answer right away, Hammad added, "Because no one else talks to me. They say I'm a bad boy. They say I'm mad. Why aren't you scared of me?"

"Scared of you?" Dawood laughed. "Why should I be scared of you?"

"Because I hit people. I don't mean to. I just get so angry. And I can't help it. Even doctor uncle told people will be scared to make friends if I hit them."

Dawood's admiration for Sidra grew exponentially. He had heard all sorts of stories about this child which antagonised the kid, even been around to see some stuff. But this Hammad sitting next to him was nothing like the one he knew of. Initially, Dawood came only because he wanted to help Sidra, but now, Hammad's innocence anchored him in place. When he spoke, he spoke softly, "Everyone gets angry Hammad. But we don't always hit people. Hitting people scares them. It's a mean thing to do. But I want to be your friend."

"My friend?" Hammad rolled the phrase in his mouth, overjoyed by the implication. "You're not scared of me? You don't think I'm mad?"

"Mad? Pshht! You're a perfectly fine fellow. I'd love to be your friend."

"Then can I be your friend too?"

"Of course. Let's start like grown ups." Dawood held out his hand, "I am Dawood and I'm eighteen. I'm Hammad's friend."

Hammad's small hand settled into Dawood's broad palm. He beamed, "I am Hammad and I'm eight. I'm Dawood's friend."

__________

The change was immediately visible to Sidra when she returned the following week. Hammad had given her a big hug and apologised for being naughty, and walked with a spring in his step and almost always wore a smile. He was nicer to his classmates, more interactive. She wondered why it was.
Her question was answered in recess.

She was watching the bleachers when a group of grade thirteens approached Hammad. She tensed for a second, but spotted Dawood among them and watched curiously.
The big boys shook Hammad's hand and spoke to him for a long while. There wasn't any patting or ruffling hair which she was sure Hammad appreciated. They treated him like an equal rather than a little boy who was being spoken to out of kindness.
Hammad had made himself a group of friends.
The coolest boys in school, Hammad himself told her later on.

Ten months of hard work had cracked his shell and gently ushered the boy into the world. Ten months of ups and downs and slow progress had resulted in this. Hammad having friends. His reputation was healed and he became a success story in the staff circle. The teachers who had pitied her at first, now congratulated her and were going on and on and on about how they too had helped Sidra turn around Hammad. She didn't mind the boasting mostly.

Sidra later found out Dawood's involvement that had broken through the last defense and made it a point to thank him and congratulate him. Soon, Dawood was in cloud nine. His favourite teacher had spoken to him in front of all his friends.
Ms Sidra really was a Godsend to Wisdom.

Hammad's story spurred activity in various classes. Other teachers scrambled to locate and correct students to bask in the limelight. Not that they saw it through, a new trend sidetracked them and they left their jobs half done. The school never officially acknowledged her efforts, but Hammad was acknowledgement enough, as was the love she received from every student in school.

Sidra chose to hang back from the limelight, giving credit where it was due.
Giving Hammad a normal life wasn't an easy task; only she knew how hard she had had to fight herself not to cave in to the pressure. But as the saying goes, the hardest paths often lead to the most beautiful destinations.