Fried Rice and Public Applause

In Khaling, our hero somehow ended up becoming unofficial labour for the English teacher.

The English teacher lived within the school premises and quietly ran a small restaurant from his residence. Students who had money to spare survived on his fried rice, chilli chops, bondas, singaras and other oily miracles that made hostel food taste even more tragic in comparison.

The arrangement between teacher and student was simple.

Our hero carried sacks of rice from the town to the teacher’s house.
In return, the teacher served him fried rice in carefully measured quantities.

The sort of fried rice that disappeared emotionally before it disappeared physically.

Still, for hostel boys constantly hungry, even measured fried rice felt close to happiness.

One afternoon after midterm examinations, our hero was once again transporting rice bags uphill like a small overworked mule. Somewhere between the carrying of sacks and the serving of fried rice, the English teacher casually mentioned that he had already finished correcting the English exam papers.

Then he said something interesting.

“One boy definitely cheated,” the teacher remarked. “The answers were far too perfect. Even the sentences looked exactly like they had been copied from some English guidebook.”

Our hero immediately became curious.

“Who?” he asked.

The teacher mentioned our hero’s name, which immediately revealed one important truth — he had never properly known the name of the boy who had been carrying rice sacks for him all this time like a loyal hostel mule.

Apparently the answers were simply too good to be trusted.

This was unfortunate because our hero had never actually seen an English guidebook in his life.

After a brief moment of confusion, our hero quietly clarified that the suspected criminal was in fact himself — and that he genuinely had not cheated.

The teacher stared at him suspiciously for a while.

Then, perhaps out of confusion, respect, or temporary emotional imbalance, he served our hero extra fried rice that day.

The next morning during English class, the teacher stood before everyone and announced that one student deserved public applause for giving the most perfect answers in the examination.

Then he mentioned our hero’s name.

The classroom applauded.

Our hero did not know how to react.

This was his first public applause in Khaling.

After spending half a year surviving boarding school life in Khaling, where good food appeared rarely and disappeared quickly, the extra fried rice honestly felt far more rewarding than the applause itself.