When we walked into class for this session, our teacher asked us "Where is Laxman?" We replied, puzzled, "Who is Laxman?" Then, our teacher told us to write a story describing who he is, where he could be and why he hasn't come to class today. Here are two of our stories.
Where is Laxman? I thought for the hundredth time that day. We were sitting in class waiting for someone to show up though no one knew who that someone was; it was almost as if he has disappeared from everyone’s memory.
See someone like Laxman is not easily unnoticed. He is this big burly boy, with curly black hair and wild eyes almost warning you to keep your stuff away from him. And now because of him we were waiting. Anything could have happened to him. True he could have bunked class because he wanted to, but he liked all the attention he got when he entered class. Suddenly there were footsteps. I looked half expected to see Laxman in his standard yellow and black clothes, his bag slung on one shoulder but another student entered and the class began. I couldn’t thing straight. I was just thinking that may be his mother had kept him home for some reason but then as the clock kept ticking I wondered if may be he had got kidnapped (because I love being a detective.) And then my theories just got wilder and wilder until suddenly there was a loud buzzing sound that just got louder and louder and I realized with a start that…….
One day, my friend Laxman did not come to the class. We all thought that he was sick, but I didn’t believe that because he told me he will come to the class. First, I called his mother but she did not answer. Then I went to his house but no one opened the door. I then put up a “missing” poster about him.
The next day a stranger came to my house with the poster I had put up and said, “He is dead.” I did not believe him and said, “You are lying.” I wanted to find out the truth so I did some research and while I was doing that I heard someone on the news saying, “An oil tanker had spilled on the route to Thakur Public School and hundred people were dead.” I remembered that Laxman used to walk to school by the same route. I frantically searched for the news of Laxman but could find no information. The next day I went to school with a heavy heart and was telling everyone about Laxman when I heard his high pitched voice saying, “Stop it! I am alive.” We were all very happy. I ran to him and I asked him where he had been? He told me that he had slipped on the oil spill, was flung up in the air and landed on a tree. Since he was so tired he fell asleep as soon he landed in the nest of a bird. The next day his parents were bringing him down as the wondered how he fit in the nest. They were asking him was that a place for him to sleep? He held me and started wailing loudly that he did not get any sympathy for slipping on the oil. Such is the tale of Laxman! Now everyone teases him, “Where is Laxman- sleeping on a tree?”