words per minute
26
kajuravi
00:00
Speed
Ajay Prasad flushed. Why was his teacher looking at him, her lips pursed in dissatisfaction? Ajay who was ten, worshiped Mrs. Kumar a tall, slender woman whose face normally wore a serene smile. He had felt this way ever since, in front of the whole class, she had tousled his hair and told him he knew the answer; he must simply think. Beet red but grinning, Ajay had thought hard and solved the problem. From then on, pleasing her was the most important thing in his life. Now, what had happened? Where had he gone wrong?
At home after school, Ajay studied his reflection in the mirror for a clue to Mrs. Kumar's disapproval. His ragged clothes and worn out tennis shoes hardly sufficient to shield him from the cold were not his fault. It was the winter of 1953 at Lucknow. Ajay Prasad's father worked as a foreman in an iron foundry until 1950 when the factory closed and he was laid off. While his father searched for work, his mother worked as a part-time domestic servant. The family, then with four children, lived in an old three-room house. The rats that scrabbled in the dark, decaying floors terrified Ajay.
Mrs. Kumar couldn't know about the rats, could she? Ajay was mystified. He was a good student, and had done well for someone who spoke no English until he started going to school. That night, as he huddled under his covers, Ajay decided he would ask his teacher what was wrong. But the next morning, Ajay's resolve melted like an icicle in sunshine. At noon, as he was about to go home, Mrs. Kumar suddenly appeared beside him in the veranda of the school. "Come with me, Ajay." Ajay followed, thinking they were going to the Principal's office.
Mrs. Kumar walked briskly out of the school, and strode into a shoe shop with Ajay right behind her. "Sit down," she told him. "Have you got a pair of shoes to fit this little boy?" she asked. The salesman took off his tattered tennis shoes and measured his feet. He found a pair of shoes that fitted Ajay perfectly. End of story.