Story : Devta Bhakt System: The Rise of the Protector
Chapter 4 : The Master of Constitution: The Source of Real Power
The next class was in the computer lab.
This was the most mischievous class in the school—the combined section of 3rd and 4th grade.
From outside the door, it sounded as if a war had broken out inside.
"Hey! This mouse is mine!" "Move, Sir is coming!"
Suraj opened the door and stepped inside.
He said nothing, did not scold, and did not tap the table.
He just placed one finger on his lips and looked at the entire class with a deep gaze.
[Ding! Aura of Authority: 50% Active]
The noise vanished in an instant like magic.
Suraj moved toward the board, picked up the chalk, and wrote in large letters— NOTEPAD.
"Children," Suraj said, turning around.
"Do you know that computers are not just for playing games?"
"It is an extension of your memory. It is your 'Digital Slate'."
"Sir! A slate breaks, will the computer break too?" a small child named Aman asked innocently.
The entire class burst into laughter.
Suraj smiled, "Aman, the body of a computer can break, but your work written on Notepad can remain safe in the 'Clouds'."
"Today we will learn the very first and magical mantra of the computer— N-O-T-E."
He wrote on the board:
N – New (New Page)
O – Open (Opening old memories)
T – Type (Writing your thoughts)
E – Exit (Leaving after finishing work)
"Sir! Why do we write .txt? Can't we write our name?" a girl named Shivani asked, raising her hand.
Suraj held the mouse and, moving the cursor on the screen, said—
"Shivani, just as your surname is your identity to show which family you belong to..."
"Similarly, .txt is the identity of this file."
"It tells the computer that this is just a written document (Text), not a song or a movie."
Outside the window, Principal Sharma and the Manager were peeking at this scene.
The Manager said softly, "Is this Suraj or someone else?"
"His voice today carries the confidence of the entire universe."
Suraj sensed their presence; he turned and gave a small Namaste, but did not break his rhythm.
"Sir, what if the light goes out and we haven't Saved?" another student asked in a frightened voice.
"Then the computer will fall asleep," Suraj replied.
"And it will forget your hard work."
"Just as you forget your notebook at home, the computer will forget to keep your file in its 'Mind'."
"Therefore, always remember—Saving is security!"
[Ding! Teaching Flow stable. Student engagement: High]
Before the third period began, Suraj stopped outside the classroom for a few seconds.
The noise here was completely different from the previous two classes.
It was neither the serious discussion of the fifth grade nor the computer lab excitement of the third and fourth grades.
These were tiny, scattered, and high-pitched voices—the combined noise of the first and second-grade children.
Some children here were still learning how to sit quietly, while others had already figured out when and how to speak.
Suraj placed his hand on the door handle and took a deep breath.
This class was difficult not because the children were small, but because he had to manage two different mental levels together.
As soon as Suraj stepped inside, the level of voices increased for a moment.
An echo of "Good Morning Sir!" rose, which was not in any single rhythm.
Some children were shouting, some were speaking half-finished words, and some were just jumping in their places.
Suraj looked at everyone with a smile and said in a calm voice, "Good morning, children."
He neither raised his hand nor shouted for them to be quiet.
He walked straight to his table, kept his notebook, and turned toward the board.
The system's 'Aura of Authority' began its work.
As soon as the children saw Suraj's calm and steady personality, the voices began to fade away on their own.
"Today," Suraj said, writing in large and clear letters on the board, "we will read a very important lesson in EVS— My School."
He looked back; the second-grade children had immediately opened their books, but the first-graders were still confused about what EVS was.
Seeing this, Suraj immediately changed his teaching method.
"Children, what is a school?" he asked.
From the crowd, a small boy named Rohan stood up with his hand raised enthusiastically.
"Sir, it's where we all meet friends and study!"
Suraj nodded, "Very good, Rohan! And Preeti, what about you?"
A tiny girl, whom everyone called Preeti, stood up after leaving her habit of chewing on her pencil.
In her innocent voice, she said, "Where... mommy leaves us and we feel scared."
A pang of sympathy felt in Suraj's heart.
He slowly went to Preeti, knelt beside her, and said very affectionately—
"Yes Preeti, it feels scary in the beginning, but this is that magical place where you find thousands of new friends and a new family who will never leave you alone."
A small smile bloomed on Preeti's face.
Suraj wrote words on the board— Education, Teacher, Protector.
He explained that a school is not just a building made of bricks and stones.
It is the place where we learn the difference between right and wrong.
He asked the second-graders to write three lines and the first-graders to just listen carefully.
As soon as the third period ended, Suraj did not stop.
He had to move immediately toward the fourth class—the subject was Hindi.
As soon as he entered the class, the children greeted him again.
Suraj kept the same calm smile.
He opened the Hindi book and began to read a small lesson.
There was a strange stillness in his voice today.
He went to each child and made them read lines.
When a child got stuck, instead of scolding them, Suraj taught them to join words with great patience.
He corrected those who read wrong with pure affection.
Ding! [Teaching continuity is found to be stable. Ding!]
The confirmation from the system echoed in his mind.
Suraj felt that the teacher within him had fully awakened today.
The bell rang and the fourth period ended.
Now it was lunch time.
Suraj had just stepped out of the class when a small child came running to him, panting.
"Sir! This is your tiffin; your brother left it at the gate," the child said, handing the tiffin wrapped in cloth to Suraj.
Suraj took it in his hand.
The identification of that cloth and that special knot...
He understood that no matter how big the storm had been at home in the morning, Mother's tiffin never stopped reaching the school.
Suraj went to his locker area.
He took out his bottle and went to the nearby tap.
He washed his hands under the stream of water, wet his fingers, and dried them by wiping them on the side of his pants as per his old habit.
He did not go to the staff room, but sat at his table in a quiet corner.
As soon as he opened the tiffin, a strong aromatic smell of ghee spread through the air.
His eyes froze as the lid was removed.
The rotis were heavily smeared with ghee, and a thick layer of ghee was also shining on top of the vegetables.
Looking at the rotis, Suraj thought to himself—
"I always ask not to put so much ghee, but they think that by feeding me ghee, I will be made fat in a single day."
"These ghee-laden rotis have nothing to do with my emotions; just keep feeding me..."
"As if I am some Sacrificial Goat who is just being prepared for a feast."
He broke the first morsel with a cold and bitter smile.
The taste of the rotis was reminding him of that maternal love which was never expressed in words.
All the bitterness of last night felt a little less with that one bite.
He sat quietly and kept eating.
Nearby, children were running in the playground, someone was sharing their lunch box, and someone was laughing loudly.
Suraj just kept watching them and realized that there was a different kind of peace in today's fatigue.
Lunch was over.
There was no longer the same rush in the school corridors as there was in the morning.
The light afternoon sunlight was filtering through the windows, in which dust particles were floating calmly.
Suraj closed his tiffin and took a long, deep breath.
He was feeling a cold stability within him.
He rose from his desk and headed toward the combined class of grades 6, 7, and 8.
When he opened the door, he saw 12 to 13 children sitting in a large room.
The post-lunch lethargy was clearly visible on their faces—some were resting their heads on the desk, while others were scratching the table with their fingers in boredom.
But as soon as Suraj stepped inside, the mood of the air changed.
The eyes of the children, which were half-open, suddenly opened wide.
Without saying a word, Suraj just placed his book on the table with a smile.
"Today we will study Social Science," Suraj said in a calm voice.
He moved toward the board and picked up the chalk.
Then a boy named Arjun from the back bench raised his hand.
There was a strange confusion in his eyes.
"Sir, I have something to ask."
Suraj stopped and turned toward him. "Ask, Arjun."
"Sir, yesterday a Minister came to our village."
"There were so many police with him, everyone was running behind him, saluting him."
"I didn't understand who is the biggest? The Minister, who gives orders in white clothes, or the Police, who have guns and uniforms?"
The whole class had forgotten their lethargy now.
This was a question that was in the mind of every child.
Suraj slowly went to the table and sat leaning against it.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Because of the 'Teaching Mode', the entire democratic system of India emerged like a map in his mind.
He wrote in very large and clear letters on the board— Constitution.
"Children," Suraj said, resting the chalk on the board.
"The answer to your question is in this one word."
"Neither the Minister is the biggest, nor the Police, nor any officer."
"The highest authority in this country is our Constitution."
"This is a magical book that has fixed the work and limits of everyone."
"But Sir, why do the police salute the Minister?" another student, Sapna, asked.
Suraj replied with a smile, "Sapna, the police do not salute the Minister just for that person, but for the 'Post' that the people have chosen."
"The Minister is part of the 'Legislature'—his job is to make good laws and schemes for the country."
"And the Police are part of the 'Executive'—their job is to implement those laws and provide security."
"They are not each other's enemies, but different parts of the same machine."
"And Sir, what if the police do something wrong? Can the Minister punish them?" Arjun asked again.
"No," Suraj said, adding some weight to his voice.
"The right to punish is only with the 'Judiciary', meaning the courts."
"If the Minister does something wrong, the police can arrest him, and the Judge can pronounce the sentence."
"It's like a chain—everyone is tied to each other so that no one can act according to their whim."
Then Suraj went among the children in the middle of the class.
"Now tell me, who became the most powerful?"
The children began to look at each other's faces.
One slowly raised their hand, but their voice trembled.
Suraj smiled, but inside, his 'System' was vibrating.
The answer to this one question was going to change the aura of the school forever.
But would the 'Public' of this classroom realize their own power before the Principal's terror returned?