Golu's New School

Schools had reopened, but after the summer holidays, many children were coming back halfheartedly.

- Alka Jain

The walls of Class 5-B were decorated with colourful chart papers; the desks gleamed with polish, and the fresh breeze coming in through the windows carried the scent of a new beginning.

After the morning assembly, when Miss Neera stepped into the classroom, there was a thin, scrawny boy with her. He was a short kid, his hair was a bit messy, his uniform hung loosely, and a heavy-framed pair of glasses rested on his nose. It was clear at first glance that he was new.

“Children, this is Golu Verma. His father’s been transferred from Kanpur. From today, he’ll be studying with us.”

A few children gave him faint smiles, while some whispered, “He looks like a third grader!”

Golu looked a little nervous as he quietly walked to the last bench and sat down. By lunchtime, his books had fallen to the floor, someone else had eaten his tiffin, and a few kids had already started calling him “Golu Dholu”, but Golu stayed quiet.

There was something special about Golu—he never complained. He had a habit of observing everyone closely, and whenever someone was in trouble, he would silently step in to help. If someone dropped a pencil, bottle or anything else, he’d pick it up. If someone forgot to bring their lunch, he would smile and offer his own. It had become his way of being. Whenever a teacher assigned a task, while other kids would try to avoid it, he would go happily, whether it was fetching a notebook from another class or conveying a message to another teacher. Many children thought he was foolish for doing so, as they believed it made them tiresome and was unnecessary.

One day, during a Hindi dictation class, Shaurya’s pencil tip broke, and he panicked because Miss Neera would make anyone who made mistakes or submitted late write an extra two pages. Shaurya was worried about how he’d finish on time.