We had this house sorting system in our school. Once you are in the fifth grade you are sorted out in different houses. Each house had their house mistress (a teacher) and one captain and two vice captains. As luck would have it, I was in the house of which she (the teacher who hated me) headed. Now, I was always good at sports or at least I had a keen interest in it. Our school wasn't the mecca of sports but we were definitely encouraged to participate, especially during our annual sports day. Since I was a toddler at this school, I have been running at every race. This attracted the attention of my seniors and I became one of the regulars. Eventually when I reached the grade or age where the school house captains were to be elected, I was a definite favorite. But, as I mentioned before the house mistress was the very woman, who hated my very existence. She tried in every possible way to make sure I never become the captain. Now it matters not what I was when I was in school, but for a 15 years old, passionate about sports and working hard towards it, and knowing she deserves it, it mattered a lot. It mattered a lot to me, a lot. She played dirty and made someone else the captain. When that girl eventually went onto become a school captain, she chose someone else. Due to constant pressure from the housemates, my seniors and juniors, she finally caved in to make me the captain. But, alas, that too was to last for a few days. The day before our annual sports day, we had the permission to stay back at school till late and practice. Due to a personal matter, I had to leave early. I of course delegated my work before leaving the school premises. Practice went on as planned and nothing was lost. But then the following incident took place. I received a late call at my home number, from that teacher accusing me of being an irresponsible captain, leaving my team behind before the D-day. In reality, it was a school sports meet, I had left half an hour early because of a death in my family. After telling me things, which I still wonder how a human, leave alone a teacher can say to a 15 year old, she went onto to talk to my father. I will never forget the tone and the words she used to address him. She was downright abusive. I could see the shock and anger on my father's face. My mother looked outraged and I felt sick to my stomach. My dear old teacher called my father a liar, an imbecile and wondered out loud how he could live with himself after raising an irresponsible idiot like me. Luckily my father has never been one to take such things lying down and he gave her a piece of his mind. I could see that he restrained himself hard from using any insults. My parents of course immediately banned me from going to the sports the next day. After much coaxing and making them understand that I had my responsibilities etc, I was allowed to go. I wish now I hadn't. At 15 years of age, I realized what being unfair looks like. We used to have this march past before the sports began. As house captains we had to carry the colored flags with pride as parents, children and teachers looked on. It was considered an honor to be able to do so. As I reached the venue and went to pick up the flag to prepare for the march. I was told by a reluctant teacher (who was the other house mistress) that I have been replaced. Without looking into my eyes, she told me it would be rather good if I do not participate at all. I do not know if you get the importance of that moment, but it still breaks my heart. In all honesty the rest of the day was a blur. I returned home a dejected teenager. I think that was the day, when my depression set in. (There have been other events prior to this and others that followed which contributed to my depression but here I talk of this one event.) For the months to come, I would lock myself in my head. I would mostly read and eat. I remember fighting with my mother, sometimes begging, sometimes bribing her, to not let me go to school. That place had become my living nightmare. Remembering my teacher's laughter as she looked at me, pleased at having thrown me out, joking about it with the other teachers, makes me want to in all honesty strangle her. I am not a violent person, but I want her to feel the suffocation, the humiliation, the dejection I felt that day.