Who wants to begin?" said Asha ma'am, certain that Sheela would volunteer. Anjali's hand shot up, and the teacher struggled to hide her disbelief.
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Sheela was excited. The next morning, she and her classmates would be submitting their English assignments, which they had worked on for weeks. 'Deadline day', as it was popularly known, held no fears for Sheela. She had taken trouble over her detailed book report, and looked forward to being quizzed on it by her teacher.
Before going to bed, Sheela went through her treatise thoroughly, checking for grammatical errors and making slight improvements. "You seem really keen on 'Oliver Twist', Sheela," said her mother. "I was a little surprised when you chose it. How did you like the story? I would say it’s rather grim."
"I enjoyed it, Mummy," said Sheela, "And I’m in royal company. I was doing research on 19th-century reactions to the novel, and was delighted to discover that Queen Victoria found it 'excessively interesting'. Her Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, however, told her plainly that he did not care for workhouses, coffin makers and pickpockets in real life, and had no wish to find them in fiction."
"But fact and fiction are closely related in 'Oliver Twist', aren't they?" said Mother. "Charles Dickens portrays the social evils of his era."
"He certainly does," said Sheela. "Especially the plight of children who endured hard labour and harsh living conditions, often turning to crime as a means of survival. 'Oliver Twist' is sombre stuff, but it is a masterpiece," she added.
Mother smiled. "I'm sure your Asha ma'am, whom you admire so much, will be pleased with you. Now, get a good night's sleep, so you can answer well when she tests you tomorrow."
"Not to worry, Mummy," said Sheela. "Asha ma'am will only ask each of us a few simple questions to make sure that we have read the books we selected, and not just copied something on them from elsewhere. I know what I have written by heart, but to be on the safe side, I'll go through it once more before class."
The following afternoon, when the bell rang for the lunch break, Sheela rummaged in her bag for her notebook to refresh her memory. To her dismay, it had disappeared. Could she have left it at home? No. Sheela distinctly remembered packing it safely away from her water bottle. It was obvious that someone had pilfered her project.
Even as she wondered what to do, Asha ma’am entered, and it was time for the literary discussion. Those who had not touched the books they were supposed to read tried not to meet the teacher’s gaze.
"Who wants to begin?" said Asha ma'am, certain that Sheela would volunteer. Anjali's hand shot up, and the teacher struggled to hide her disbelief. The students were no less surprised. Could Anjali, who never read anything if she could avoid it, have actually studied a classic?
As Anjali stood up, Sheela was horrified to see that the girl was clutching her missing manuscript. "'Oliver Twist' is the second novel by Charles Dickens," announced Anjali. "Published in 1838, it follows the adventures, or rather misadventures, of the orphan of the title, including his inadvertent involvement with a gang of thieves." Anjali then proceeded to parrot, word-for-word, Sheela's comprehensive composition.
The students were amazed and impressed, but the teacher knew that something was wrong. Anjali was obviously not familiar with the matter before her, for she kept stumbling over the names of people and places. Besides, Asha ma'am observed Sheela’s deep distress. That bright and diligent girl seemed desperate to interrupt the proceedings.
"May I ask you a few questions, Anjali?" said Asha ma'am politely.
"Of course, Ma'am," said Anjali readily.
"Who says, 'Please, Sir, I want some more', and suffers as a consequence?" asked the teacher.
"Oliver Twist," said Anjali, guessing correctly.
"More of what, Anjali? What is in such short supply?" enquired the teacher.
"Gruel," hissed Rakesh, as Anjali hesitated. His parents knew hers, and he felt obliged to assist.
"What’s that?" demanded Anjali, not realising she had spoken aloud.
The teacher had heard enough. "Sheela," she said, "Will you please tell us what Oliver wants, and why."
Sheela jumped to her feet. "Gruel, Ma'am," she said. "He and the other workhouse inmates are desperate for an extra portion of the watery oatmeal they receive daily."
"Anjali, see me after school," said Asha ma’am sternly, adding, "You have definitely not read Charles Dickens’ novel. Worse, you deceitfully laid claim to Sheela's wonderful work."