When I was in ninth grade, I was considered one of the brightest students and was also the class monitor. But one day, two teachers, who had always been very fond of me, accused me of writing a disrespectful name on the blackboard for one of them. I hadn’t done it. But because the handwriting seemed similar to mine, they singled me out. Overwhelmed with emotion, I couldn’t utter a single word in my defence. My silence and tears were mistaken for guilt. I was just thirteen then.
That incident remained etched in my heart like a thorn. Years later, after passing out and joining BHU, I wrote a letter to both teachers, explaining that they had been mistaken, and that my silence then was born of respect and emotion, not guilt.
Sometime later, I met one of them at a railway platform. He had come to see someone off, and I was on my way somewhere. I hurriedly bent to touch his feet. He embraced me gently and whispered, “Sometimes teachers also err.” That simple sentence lifted a burden I had carried for years.
But twelve-year-old Krishnendu Das, a class 7 student from Paschim Medinipur, wasn’t as fortunate. In May this year, he was accused of stealing a packet of Kurkure chips from a local shop. The shopkeeper, Shuvankar Dikshit, slapped him and forced him to do sit-ups in public.
Krishnendu insisted he had merely picked up the packet from a heap outside the shop. Even then, he apologised and offered to pay, but the shopkeeper wouldn’t relent.
His mother was called, and she too scolded and slapped him in front of everyone. Humiliated and heartbroken, Krishnendu returned home, bolted his room from inside, and didn’t respond when called.
When the door was finally broken open, he was found frothing at the mouth, a half-empty bottle of pesticide beside him. A note written in Bengali lay nearby:
“Maa, I am not a thief. I did not steal. Uncle (the shopkeeper) was not around as I waited. While returning, I saw a packet of Kurkure lying on the road and picked it up. I love Kurkure. These are my last words before leaving. Please forgive me for what I’ve done (consuming poison).”
He was rushed to Tamluk Hospital and admitted to the ICU but passed away soon after. The shopkeeper, also a civic volunteer with Bengal Police, initially denied assaulting the boy but later went missing.
When CCTV footage was finally checked, it showed that the packet had indeed blown out of the shop due to the wind, and Krishnendu had only picked it up from the ground. The problem is underway.
A young life ended because of humiliation and disbelief. Public shaming, especially when joined by a loved one’s mistrust, broke his spirit. It’s heart-wrenching how impatience and insensitivity are corroding our humanity. All he needed was someone to listen, to believe him, not judge him.
A packet of chips worth barely fifteen rupees cost a child his life.
Today, 13 November, marks World Kindness Day, a day dedicated to promoting empathy and compassion to build a more peaceful world. Let’s take this as a reminder to practise kindness, both in small gestures and larger acts that bridge divides, heal wounds, and strengthen our communities. Let’s spread kindness, foster understanding, and create a world where every heart feels seen, heard, and valued.
