Something like that

Author's name: Ibrahim Aslan

The second time I came across that "ebony pen" was in one of the schools I attended. It was with one of the students in the class. He kept it in his locked drawer. When he unlocked it with the key and took out the pen, I would move from my place and join him with some of the boys, watching him and asking him to let me hold it and examine it. One day, the boy came back and found the drawer broken and the pen missing. I didn't notice what happened, except that the boys, who were sitting in front of me on the right side of the classroom, turned to me and whispered. When the teacher came in, the boy stood up and complained that I had taken the pen. He cited examples of his classmates who said that I was very interested in it, and another said that I was the only one who was really "interested in it." The teacher asked me to stand. I don't remember speaking. What I do remember is that tears streamed from my eyes as I stood. I didn't have a handkerchief with me. I dried my eyes and nose with my shirt sleeve, and the teacher, who was wearing a turban and a cloak, shouted: “Shut up. May God disgust you.” He pointed to the door. “Get out.” What I remember is walking to the front of the classroom and running. I might still be running now.