A Confession 

A small dark secret from my childhood enacted in adulthood. 

I was probably in grade 5 or 6 and my moral science marks for a particular exam were hide-worthy. My father wasn’t particular about all 90s but failure was unacceptable at home. 

My father was very clear that he wouldn’t put his signature on a progress card that had a red mark. 

I let days go by till the deadline approached. And then I was shitting bricks as my class teacher won’t let me into the class without a sign from my parents. 

Right then my friend’s progress card flashed on my mind. She had forged her father’s signature and got away with it, both with the teacher as well as her parents. I was tempted and encouraged.  I sat for hours thinking but my mind was already on the act. 

Standing behind the door in my room I mulled over for hours before I committed my first sin ( remember the forbidden fruit) and entered into the world of wrongs. 

I finally committed it. I signed and signed and signed.

When I looked at my progress report I realized that the sign had no similarities to that of my father’s. The amateur that I was, I didn’t even have a specimen signature to copy from. But it was done. 

The next day I gathered the guts to submit the report card. The teacher said nothing and accepted it. 

I don’t know what conspired during the parent’s teachers’ meeting but I saw stick marks on my hands that evening. 

I was caught in my own eyes and how was I expecting to get away with the teacher? How naive and innocent. 

The irony was that I cheated because of my Moral Science marks and I learned the lesson myself.

• Jaseena Backer