Lockdown Part 6.1

Author's Note: This is actually not a complete part, so you won't have a proper ending.

“It’s been fifteen minutes.” Jahir Uddin, the Cadets’ Mess Manager, scowls.

“Calm down, sir. Calm down,” says Nahid, one of the groundsmen of the school. “He’ll be coming soon.”

“Well, he’s not supposed to be late, is he? It’s a semi-military institution. No one’s supposed to be late here.”

“Come on, sir,” Jewel, another groundsman, says. “It’s a crisis out there. Getting all those foods isn’t as easy as it used to be.”

“There he is.”

Three blue pickup vans in a line approach the main gate of the school. On the front seat of the first van is a man in his thirties, wearing a half-sleeved check shirt. He’s Abdullah Zaman, the school's food contractor.

The vans stop in front of the gate one after another. Abdullah comes out.

Jahir Uddin says, “Abdullah, we can’t accept—

“Oh, you don’t know what’s out there. You have no idea. I didn’t get the tomatoes and pumpkins from the Joynal Market. Not in the Kali Market either. Then I had to get to the Srinath market walking three miles. Walking three miles! There wasn’t a single rickshaw on the road. And now you’re gonna tell me off for being late?”

Jahir Uddin smiles. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“Oh…” Abdullah is caught off-guard. “Right. Whatever. Now get all the foods down and start spraying, will you?”

Nahid and Jewel begin to take all the sacks of food out of the vans and place them on the sheets which have been already spread on the ground. Nahid starts spraying detergent on the sacks while Jewel goes the third van—which is actually the Chicken Van with a number of cages full of chicken—and starts spraying. As the detergent solution makes its way between the grills of the cages into the chickens’ bodies, they cluck stridently.

“Shut up, you little pricks!” mutters Nahid.

Meanwhile, Jahir Uddin examines the Demand Invoice.

“I’ve got everything in there,” says Abdullah. “For now.”

Jahir looks up. “What do you mean?”

“They’re closing the beef markets everywhere. Because a beef market and a big crowd are the same thing.”

You’ll never see a beef market free of clamoring crowd in this country. These people love beef, and cows are slaughtered only once or twice a week. That’s what makes the beef markets so much anticipated.

“Yeah, that’s true for sure.” Jahir exhales. “So does that mean we won’t get beef anymore?”

“Yep.”

“Dear god.”

Jahir Uddin puts a tick-mark beside all the items in the invoice. After that, he asterisks the fourteenth item: Beef.

“So far we’ve served the Cadets foods as per the normal schedule. There’s been no shortcoming. No change. We haven’t let them understand how the bad the situation is outside. We’ve kept them like kings.”

“Well, maybe the storm’s about to get to them.”

“Maybe.”

***

Shahin Hasan is absolutely exasperated. It’s been almost forty-five minutes of an hour he’s sitting on this easy chair in the House Office. He’s constantly looking at the large white clock on the wall. Sometimes he stares at the second hand, wondering if it’s actually decelerating every second.

When he first came to the House, he walked the long corridor up front, glancing at the each of the Cadets’ rooms, checking if their discipline is alright. Then he went to the Office and sat on one of the enormous, old-fashioned easy chairs. For the following fifteen minutes, he played this stupid Snake Game in his phone. He scored 4320 points in sixth attempt, his new high score. But after that he couldn’t score too many and started losing the game too soon. At one point he was so incensed with himself for losing the game at zero points that he wanted to throw his phone, but ended up prodding himself in the thighs with the phone and getting even more incensed.

He looks at his right now. Jamal Islam, Math teacher, senior to Shahin by five years, is reading a book. Jochona o Jononir Golpo. Tale of the Moon & a Mother. By Humayun Ahmed, the legendary Bangla novelist.

“Such a boring job, eh, sir?”

Jamal Islam takes a deep breath without taking his eyes off the book. “Hmmm.”

“I don’t see any reason for keeping two teachers on duty all the time. I mean, if one of us stayed in the House today, wouldn’t that be enough?”

“Of course. One teacher is more than enough to monitor the Cadets. That’s how it was before the lockdown, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. Besides, if two teachers are on duty, the number of teachers coming to the house on a daily basis is doubled. Which means the Cadets are exposed to greater number of teachers. That’s riskier for them. If the Cadets’ safety is what matters most now, why didn’t the Principal think of this risk?”

Jamal Islam shuts the book and looks at Shahin Hasan. “I didn’t think of that either. You’re right, Shahin. It’s just making things worse.”

Shahin Hasan smiles. He feels proud to be right about this.

“To be honest, Shahin, the Principal doesn’t give a damn about these things. All he does is impose all the burdens on our shoulders so he can relax.”

Shahin Hasan nods. “And there’s another thing. If Cadets do anything wrong, we’re there to take the blame. We’re easy bait, aren’t we?”

This is a harsh reality in this school. The Cadets are valued so much that a number of teachers have to answer for the actions of a single Cadet. If any Cadet breaks any disciplinary rule, say, a cigarette is found in his possession, the House Master of the concerned Cadet’s House, the Batch-in-Charge of his batch, the Class Teacher of his grade—all these people will have to explain how and why the concerned Cadet indulged in such nuisance despite their guidance. That’s how it works. Cadets get naughty, they suffer the consequence along with the teachers.

Jamal Islam says, “That we are.”

“Exactly.”

“But one thing is for sure. Cadets are very much safe here. It was a wise decision to keep them inside rather then sending them for vacation.”

Shahin Hasan frowns. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t agree with you on that.”

“And why is that?”

Sir, this is an abnormal situation. Nothing is normal. No one’s safe. It’s a pandemic, for god’s sake! Everyone is fighting for themselves. So the school could just let the Cadets go. They didn’t need to take responsibility.”

“Well, it’s because the school took responsibility that Cadets are safe. No one’s infected yet.”

Shahin Hasan shakes his head. “You don’t understand, sir. What’s the role of a school? To educate the students. That’s not happening right now because any sort of gathering is risky. That’s why all the schools in the country are shut down. That’s why Cadets are not attending any classes or PTs. So why are they staying? Why do they have to be here?”

“Well,” Jamal Islam intertwines his fingers, “this is not just another school. It’s a residential school run by the Army. This school is the second home of three hundred and two Cadets. These boys deserve to be here because all of them had passed a very thorough admission process. They are the future leaders of our nation, whether in the Army or in the Civil world. So if the Army Headquarters are keeping the Cadets, it’s because they want to protect the future of the nation at any cost. I see no problem in that. It’s rather a noble thing to do.”

Shahin Hasan lets out a sardonic laughter. “That’s where the problem is, sir. The Army Headquarters overvalue the Cadets. They take so much of the Cadets’ responsibility that Cadets forget to be responsible themselves. They pay no attention to the people around who sacrifice so much for them all day and all night. That’s how they become arrogant. And careless too.”

“You can say that, Shahin.” Jamal Islam sighs. “You’re right. But yet, what the Headquarters are doing is a good thing. Think about the Cadets’ parents. They’re all happy with this decision.”

“Oh, these parents! You know what, sir? If my son was a Cadet, I’d have him back hone the moment there was an outbreak. I’d keep him with me when there’s a crisis out there.”

“Well, would you like it if your son had to die in your arms because of your sentiment? Or would you rather have your son be in a safer place away from you?”

Shahin Hasan flounders.

“Exactly. These parents know very well that their sons are safe. That’s why, they’re happy to be away from their children even though it hurts them.”