The Potato Race

“Next week, as part of the Annual Sports Day, LKG students will participate in a Potato Race,” announced Sister Alphonse, her voice echoing in the small classroom.

Kittu, however, was lost in his own world. He was mesmerized by a butterfly fluttering across the room, its delicate wings tracing a path from the blackboard to the teacher’s desk. It wasn’t just Kittu; most of the class was captivated by the butterfly’s erratic journey, their eyes following it as it danced through the air.

Sister Alphonse, oblivious to the distraction, noticed the lack of attention from her students. Frowning slightly, she repeated her announcement with a firmer tone. “Next week, we will have a Potato Race. I will now read out the names of five students from this class who will participate.”

Glancing down at the register, she began selecting names at random. “Laxmi, Sunil, Krishna Prasad, Aslam, Rose, and” she paused, correcting herself, “Oh, not David. You will be part of the fancy dress competition.”

David’s face lit up, relieved to avoid the race. Sister Alphonse continued, “All those whose names I just read out, stand up.”

As instructed, the selected students stood, except for Kittu. He was entirely absorbed in drawing a butterfly in his notebook, using a darker shade to fill in the wings with intense concentration. The world around him faded away, including Sister Alphonse’s stern gaze as she approached his desk.

“What are you doing?” she asked sharply, spotting the butterfly sketch.

For a fleeting moment, Kittu hoped she might praise his artwork. But that hope was quickly dashed when he felt a sharp pain in his right ear. Sister Alphonse had seized it with a tight grip, making Kittu wince, convinced she was trying to pull it off.

“Every day, it’s the same story with you,” she scolded. “You’re always causing trouble in this class!”

Kittu often wondered why adults like Sister Alphonse couldn’t see the beauty in simple things, like a butterfly.

“Did you hear what I said?” Sister Alphonse continued, her voice rising. “Next week, there will be a Potato Race.”

“I do not like potatoes,” Kittu replied defiantly.

The other race participants standing with him nodded in agreement.

“You do not have to eat the potatoes. There will be a line of five potatoes, and you need to pick each and place it in your box.”

“What box?” Kittu asked, curiosity piquing.

“You will all get a box or an empty tin can from home. Ask your mothers to give it to you. In it, you will hold the potatoes.”

“We have to bring the potatoes too?” asked Laxmi, always eager to be the first to answer Sister Alphonse’s questions.

“No, dear. You do not have to bring the potatoes. In fact, they will not be potatoes. They will be round stones laid out in a line. You will stand at the starting point. When I give the signal, you pick up your tin can and run in a straight line, picking up each potato and putting it in the can. The first one to finish wins.”

“Why can’t you give us all the potatoes at the start in the can? Then we wouldn’t have to run,” Kittu said, finding the idea of a race to collect potatoes silly.

Sister Alphonse turned back to him, her patience wearing thin. “You will do as I say, or should I pull your ear once more?”

Kittu let it go, his ear still smarting from her grip. Sometimes, it was better to agree with what the adults said.

Annual Sports Day at St. Patrick’s was a full day of sports and no study. It was fun for those not participating and full of tension for those in the events. Huge tents had been erected on one side of the playground, with rows of chairs neatly laid out, packed with the parents of the students. Kittu’s father, Captain Naidu, and mother, Shyamala, were there. His elder brother, Shyama Prasad, a first-grader, was also participating in one of the events.

Kittu brought a small brown tin can, one his mother had planned to use for planting herbs.

“Bring it back after the race,” she reminded him.

Kittu, busy drumming on the can and jumping around, nodded absentmindedly.

“And stop jumping around! You’ll spoil your uniform,” she added, exasperated.

Adults were no fun. It was always “Don’t do this,” “Don’t do that,” “Do not go there,” “Finish your homework.” Kittu believed the world would be so much fun without adults and Sister Alphonse.

“Stand behind the start line!” Sister Alphonse yelled. The potato race was the first event of the day.

The tin cans the children brought were placed on the starting line, next to lines drawn with chalk powder. Small stones lay at equal distance on the line.

Kittu glanced at the four others with him in the line. He wanted to smile at them, but then the race started. That was when disaster struck! Sunil, the boy next to Kittu, mistakenly picked up Kittu’s tin can and started running. In his excitement, he completely forgot about his own.

Kittu was frozen in disbelief. All the others raced ahead, picking up stones, placing them in their cans, and then dashing off again. But Kittu stood motionless on the start line.

“Run, Krishna Prasad! Pick up the can and run!” Sister Alphonse yelled, but Kittu couldn’t move. He just stood there, watching Sunil sprint away with his tin can. Kittu could see his parents urging him to run, but he remained at the start line.

The race ended with Sunil winning, Laxmi coming in second, and Aslam third. Kittu, still standing on the start line, was declared last.

“Why didn’t you run?” Sister Alphonse demanded. “All you had to do was pick up the tin can and run!”

Sister Francesca, the school principal, had been watching the whole race. At first, she thought the child was frozen with fright, but the look on Kittu’s face didn’t seem like the face of frightened child. She approached him.

“What is your name?” Sister Francesca asked gently.

“Krishna Prasad Naidu,” Kittu replied.

“Why did you not run?” she inquired.

“This boy is a problem child in my class. He doesn’t understand simple instructions,” Sister Alphonse interjected.

“Let him answer,” said Sister Francesca. Kittu immediately took a liking to Sister Francesca. For once, someone was telling Sister Alphonse to stop talking.

“Sunil took my can and ran,” Kittu explained.

“Who is Sunil?” asked Sister Francesca.

“He was standing next to me and took my tin can,” Kittu replied.

“Then you could have taken his tin can and run. Why didn’t you do that?”

“How can I take his tin can? That wasn’t mine. I cannot take something that belongs to someone else,” Kittu said, looking the School Principal in the eye.

Sister Francesca paused to think, then smiled. She bent down and kissed Kittu on the cheek. “Such a noble soul in someone so young,” she said, giving him a sweet she had in her hand.

“Can I have my tin can back?” Kittu asked. “My mother said I have to bring it back.”

“Yes, we can certainly get your tin can back. Sister Alphonse, can you find Krishna’s tin can and bring it over?” Sister Francesca asked, She then took Kittu’s hand and led him toward the audience gallery. “Now let’s meet your mother and tell her what a gem of a child she has.”