A most moving account of an accident in school.

Abdul-Rahim’s heartbeat thumps against my body. It moves so quickly that I am afraid. I want to distract him, to amuse him. I switch to Urdu. There is very little that I can say in Urdu which is not related to food or classroom management. I wrack my brain. “Tum mere dost ho,” I sing to him. “Tum mere dost ho, billi k gosht ho.”