Bitasta Halder of class four shares her unexpected encounter with chaos because of a protest that turns an ordinary school day into a life-changing experience.
It was the 5th of August, 2024, a Monday. Honestly, I never expected the chaos that was in store for me that day. The day had started just like any other. I woke up to the usual sound of my alarm clock blaring, groaned, and dragged myself out of bed. The morning routine was the same: a quick shower, breakfast with my family, and then off to school. I walked until I reached the bus stand, where the school bus picks me up.
School was, as always, a mix of lessons, homework, and chatter with friends. We had English first, and Bidisha Ma’am had us read a chapter from the novel we were studying. After that came math, where we struggled with algebraic equations but thanks to Sir who taught us the best way possible, and then history, where we learnt about ancient civilizations. By lunchtime, my friends and I gathered in our usual spot in the cafeteria, talking about everything from the latest cricket match to the upcoming school festival. The teachers followed their routine, teaching with the same energy as always. Everything seemed perfectly ordinary.
When the clock struck the usual departure time, I packed my bag, ready to leave. But the bell didn’t ring. A heavy silence filled the air, and we all started to get restless. The hands of the clock moved past our usual departure time, but the bell remained silent. I could see my friends shifting in their seats, exchanging puzzled glances. Why wasn’t the bell ringing?
Thirty minutes ticked by, feeling like hours, and then, finally, the bell blared. A wave of relief swept through the classroom. We grabbed our bags and hurried out of the school building, eager to go home. But as I stepped outside, something felt different. There was a strange tension in the air, a feeling of unease. The teachers, who usually just waved us goodbye, were now standing near the bus doors, their faces serious.
I boarded the bus, taking my usual seat near the window. I noticed our teacher sitting at the front of the bus, looking tense. He usually didn’t ride with us, so his presence made me feel both safe and worried at the same time. Our bus started its journey home, moving slowly through the familiar streets. I peered out of the window, curious. The streets were more crowded than usual, and soon I saw the reason why. A large crowd of people had gathered in the middle of the road. Some were shouting slogans, holding up signs, while others just stood there, looking angry. My eyes widened. I had never seen anything like this before.
“What’s happening?” A girl behind me whispered, her voice tinged with fear. The murmurs spread throughout the bus, kids exchanging anxious glances.
Our sir stood up. “Everyone, please shut your windows and stay calm,” he instructed firmly. His voice was calm, but his eyes were watchful. I did as I was told, quickly closing my window, though I could still hear the muffled shouts outside.
The bus slowed down as it approached the crowd. Through the gaps in the window curtains, I saw policemen trying to control the people. There were too many, though, and the crowd was pushing against the police lines, shouting louder. My heart pounded in my chest. This was chaos, and it frightened me. I had heard about protests on the news, but I had never seen one up close. The shouts were angry, and the faces of the people contorted with emotion.
The bus driver navigated through the crowd, honking the horn. Slowly, ever so slowly, the bus moved past the crowd. The tension in the air was thick, and I held my breath, hoping we wouldn’t get stuck. Minutes passed, but they felt like an eternity. The bus jerked forward, then stopped, then moved again, inching its way through the mass of people. I could see the strain on the bus driver’s face, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.
Finally, we emerged from the crowd, leaving the noise and chaos behind us. The road ahead was clear. I heard a collective sigh of relief. Sir allowed us to open the windows again. Cool air rushed in, and I breathed deeply, feeling the tension leave my body. The rest of the journey was quiet. No one spoke much; everyone seemed lost in their thoughts. The sight of the crowd and the anger on their faces had shaken us all. It was a side of the world I hadn’t seen before, a side that was unsettling and real.
As we neared my stop, I glanced out of the window and saw my mother standing by the gate, waiting for me. Her face lit up with relief when she saw the bus, and I felt a warmth spread through me. I waved at her, and she waved back, a smile breaking through her worried expression. By the time we reached our homes, the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything. The sky was a beautiful shade of orange and pink, as if trying to erase the chaos we had seen earlier.
As I stepped off the bus, I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. We were safe. Our teachers and the bus driver had brought us home, despite the chaos we had faced. I walked up to my mother, who wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. I could feel her heart beating fast, matching the rhythm of mine.
“What happened, Ma?” I asked as we walked home together. She glanced at me, her face serious.
“There was a protest in the city,” she explained. “People are angry about something. It’s been all over the news today.”
I nodded, trying to process what she was saying. I had seen protests on television, but they always felt distant, like something happening in another world. Today, that world had come crashing into mine. As we walked into our house, I could hear the television in the living room and the news anchor talking about the protest. My father was sitting on the couch, watching intently.
“How was school?” he asked, looking up at me. I shrugged, not sure how to describe the day. It had started so normally, and then everything had changed.
“It was…different,” I said finally. My father nodded, understanding.
“Sometimes, the world is like that,” he said. “It changes in a moment, and we just have to adapt.”
Later that evening, as I sat at my desk, trying to do my homework, my mind kept drifting back to the events of the day. The crowd, the shouting, the tension in the air. It was an ordinary day turned extraordinary, and I knew I would never forget it. The world seemed a little larger, a little more complex, and a little more real. I felt a new awareness, a realization that the world outside my school and home was full of people with their own stories, their own struggles, and their own voices. Talking of stories, I decided to write my experience today, which I am sharing with you.
