opposite them. Her face went stone pale and her eyes turned crimson. Slowly and calmly, the
principal told Ganbaatar that he had a serious illness called encephalitis when he was two years
old. What encephalitis was Ganbaatar did not know, but the principal went on telling him that
his brain was damaged after recovery and, as a result, he had language barrier and with extra
effort he could catch up with students of his age in future. But deep in Ganbaatar’s mind he knew
it wasn’t true, he knew these were all lies, he knew he would never be normal again. Since then,
everyday after school, he ran into the desert and cried, where nobody would see him, where he
could avoid those vicious glances and the mockery him. From that moment on, the desert became
his friend, his only friend.
A breeze of salty air jarred him back to reality. Ganbaatar picked up his pen and scribbled.
The teacher was sipping her mug of milk tea as she marked the essays one after another. It was
Ganbaatar’s now. She put down her glasses, rubbed her eyes, and counted. There were only three
lines. She read the first line and paused. Her lips trembled. As she read on, her eyes were blurred
with tears that ran down her cheeks, sparkling like fresh dewdrops.
The teacher marched into the classroom holding the pile of essays. The students gaped. Their
teacher had never marked all the essays within a day. She cleared her throat and the class fell
silent. “I’ll now read aloud to you the best essay this time,” she announced, “by Ganbaatar.” The
class gaped in surprise, not believing what they’d just heard. The teacher didn’t seem to care, and
in a soft and lyrical voice she read with emotion, “If only I were a bright pupil, my teachers would
smile at me and say, ‘You’re smart.’ If only I didn’t have encephalitis, my classmates would play
with me and say, ‘You’re not abnormal.’ If only I were smart and clever, my mother would smile
gently and say, ‘You’re not stupid at all.’”
The teacher smiled and nodded at Ganbaatar, “Don’t worry, your teachers notice your
brilliance and like you more. Your classmates will get to know how great a person you are. Your
mother will always love you.” She raised her hands and clapped. And his classmates followed suit.
For once, Ganbaatar was told the truth.
* * *
* * *
