"You're not spending enough time with your children! You simply keep working and working! What's the point!?", my daughter complained. When a 7 year old questions your priorities or the lack of it with such a scathing attack, you have to mend your ways. I decided to skip work and show up for the Sports Day at her school.
I could see my daughter along with other children, neatly arrayed in rows, moving their arms up, down… and sideways in synchronization to the brisk chant of "one-two-three-four…" and "…four-three-next-change!" Like other parents, I waved to my daughter furiously from the stands till she had little choice but to notice me, grin and perhaps wonder- "He's such a clown! Does he expect me to wave back at him when I'm doing these exercises? Maybe, I should have just let him go to work!" My wife gently corrected me... "You are waving at someone else! Our daughter is standing in the fifth row... from the left!" As we sat in the shamiana, there was time to reminisce. A lot had changed in Sports Days then and now. A lot was just the same....
"Biscuit Eating race” was conspicuous by its absence. So was sack-race which generated the most laughs- where children hopped, skipped, tumbled over, lost the plot mid-way, veered into the bushes and somehow managed to get back into the race! In a “biscuit-eating race”, the child had to gobble up a stack of "marie" biscuits and run to the finish line. Designated teachers scrutinized the child's mouth (and even the esophagus) to ensure that the biscuits didn't remain scrunched up in a corner. Some children were naturally relaxed and took their time- they munched the biscuits with interest and savoured the taste. They followed instructions from a different class to the letter- each morsel of food had to be masticated exactly 32 times before gulping it down...! Little wonder, they got a mouthful (or is it an earful?) from their furious parents after the race- "Have you never seen a biscuit in your life? Why couldn't you eat fast?" Dinesh was known to have done an Oliver Twist- After finishing his stack of marie biscuits, he asked- "Can I have one more…. and some water please to wash it down!?"
I missed my favourite- the "marble and spoon race"...with that marble precariously balancing on the spoon. Adhir had a problem with the hygiene. He felt delicate to grip the spoon by the mouth after the previous set of students had used it. "Can I bring my own spoon Miss?" he gingerly asked. "Sure you can Adhir! You can have your own spoon and your own marble and your own race... in your own home!" Ms Grace hollered.
Some things just hadn't changed- school "houses", the jingoism associated with it and the irresistible urge to brand other houses. "Blue house" students (and even the teachers associated with the house) cried themselves hoarse supporting their stars and heckled other houses. In our time, yellow house students were "cheaters" (preferred form to the more grammatically correct usage of 'cheat'), red house folks were "snooty" and the green house adherents were simply "losers"! The names of the houses may have changed- "Gandhi, Nehru, Tilak and Tagore" then to "earth, fire, space and sun" now... but not the colours and what the affiliation meant to the students. It was tough being in Gandhi house in our time. We could have a full head of hair- but would still invite cat-calls of "Aye taklu house!" or "Oye ganje!" (you baldy!)... well after school hours and in a totally different setting!
"Physical Education" now is definitely more structured. The variety in presentation cannot be missed either. The uniforms are smarter- white T-shirts, faded blue jeans and Nike shoes to boot. Students confounded us by contorting themselves in unbelievable “yoga asanas” making us wonder how they would finally extricate themselves from all this twisting. Aerobic exercises in Zumba style with feet tapping Latin American music made interesting viewing. There was never a dull moment throughout the programme- crisp and well rehearsed, with even an army band thrown in- complete with Scottish bagpipes and drums.
Unfurling the school flag, lighting the torch, the march-past, the guard of honour, the chief guest's "inspiring speech", the drill sessions, the running races, the hurdles, the potato races, the relays...the rituals were all intact.
Parents egged their wards.. with a half eaten samosa in one hand, pumping their fists, with shouts of "C'mon Aditya"... "faster.. faster..bhaag..faster"... and even tried to transfer their energy by sprinting in their own places! There was still that lurking feeling of "betrayal and partiality" that so-and-so won because he ran in the innermost lane of the oval track and hence had to cover less ground!!
The relay race, as always, was the top draw. Some elements continued to tickle us- surprisingly, no one dropped the baton or continued to run with abandon without passing the baton, so that his own comrade now played “catching-cook” with him! One weak link still pulled down the whole team; the gap between the weakest and the strongest team was so wide that the number of laps was forgotten and one suddenly got the feeling that the weakest team was in fact surging ahead! At the end of the race, the participants licked GlucoseD- cold, sweet and refreshing off their palms to give them “instant energy” for the next race! Nothing had changed.
The ceremony was "declared open" with the oath centred on the theme- "winning is not important"..... "what's important is fair play and the spirit of sportsmanship". It's only later in life that the child will grown up to be a sportsman with a new set of mantras- "go for the jugular", "show some agro man" and "develop a killer instinct"! Till then, the current messaging is just fine!
I could see my daughter along with other children, neatly arrayed in rows, moving their arms up, down… and sideways in synchronization to the brisk chant of "one-two-three-four…" and "…four-three-next-change!" Like other parents, I waved to my daughter furiously from the stands till she had little choice but to notice me, grin and perhaps wonder- "He's such a clown! Does he expect me to wave back at him when I'm doing these exercises? Maybe, I should have just let him go to work!" My wife gently corrected me... "You are waving at someone else! Our daughter is standing in the fifth row... from the left!" As we sat in the shamiana, there was time to reminisce. A lot had changed in Sports Days then and now. A lot was just the same....
"Biscuit Eating race” was conspicuous by its absence. So was sack-race which generated the most laughs- where children hopped, skipped, tumbled over, lost the plot mid-way, veered into the bushes and somehow managed to get back into the race! In a “biscuit-eating race”, the child had to gobble up a stack of "marie" biscuits and run to the finish line. Designated teachers scrutinized the child's mouth (and even the esophagus) to ensure that the biscuits didn't remain scrunched up in a corner. Some children were naturally relaxed and took their time- they munched the biscuits with interest and savoured the taste. They followed instructions from a different class to the letter- each morsel of food had to be masticated exactly 32 times before gulping it down...! Little wonder, they got a mouthful (or is it an earful?) from their furious parents after the race- "Have you never seen a biscuit in your life? Why couldn't you eat fast?" Dinesh was known to have done an Oliver Twist- After finishing his stack of marie biscuits, he asked- "Can I have one more…. and some water please to wash it down!?"
I missed my favourite- the "marble and spoon race"...with that marble precariously balancing on the spoon. Adhir had a problem with the hygiene. He felt delicate to grip the spoon by the mouth after the previous set of students had used it. "Can I bring my own spoon Miss?" he gingerly asked. "Sure you can Adhir! You can have your own spoon and your own marble and your own race... in your own home!" Ms Grace hollered.
Some things just hadn't changed- school "houses", the jingoism associated with it and the irresistible urge to brand other houses. "Blue house" students (and even the teachers associated with the house) cried themselves hoarse supporting their stars and heckled other houses. In our time, yellow house students were "cheaters" (preferred form to the more grammatically correct usage of 'cheat'), red house folks were "snooty" and the green house adherents were simply "losers"! The names of the houses may have changed- "Gandhi, Nehru, Tilak and Tagore" then to "earth, fire, space and sun" now... but not the colours and what the affiliation meant to the students. It was tough being in Gandhi house in our time. We could have a full head of hair- but would still invite cat-calls of "Aye taklu house!" or "Oye ganje!" (you baldy!)... well after school hours and in a totally different setting!
"Physical Education" now is definitely more structured. The variety in presentation cannot be missed either. The uniforms are smarter- white T-shirts, faded blue jeans and Nike shoes to boot. Students confounded us by contorting themselves in unbelievable “yoga asanas” making us wonder how they would finally extricate themselves from all this twisting. Aerobic exercises in Zumba style with feet tapping Latin American music made interesting viewing. There was never a dull moment throughout the programme- crisp and well rehearsed, with even an army band thrown in- complete with Scottish bagpipes and drums.
Unfurling the school flag, lighting the torch, the march-past, the guard of honour, the chief guest's "inspiring speech", the drill sessions, the running races, the hurdles, the potato races, the relays...the rituals were all intact.
Parents egged their wards.. with a half eaten samosa in one hand, pumping their fists, with shouts of "C'mon Aditya"... "faster.. faster..bhaag..faster"... and even tried to transfer their energy by sprinting in their own places! There was still that lurking feeling of "betrayal and partiality" that so-and-so won because he ran in the innermost lane of the oval track and hence had to cover less ground!!
The relay race, as always, was the top draw. Some elements continued to tickle us- surprisingly, no one dropped the baton or continued to run with abandon without passing the baton, so that his own comrade now played “catching-cook” with him! One weak link still pulled down the whole team; the gap between the weakest and the strongest team was so wide that the number of laps was forgotten and one suddenly got the feeling that the weakest team was in fact surging ahead! At the end of the race, the participants licked GlucoseD- cold, sweet and refreshing off their palms to give them “instant energy” for the next race! Nothing had changed.
The ceremony was "declared open" with the oath centred on the theme- "winning is not important"..... "what's important is fair play and the spirit of sportsmanship". It's only later in life that the child will grown up to be a sportsman with a new set of mantras- "go for the jugular", "show some agro man" and "develop a killer instinct"! Till then, the current messaging is just fine!
Did you have 3 legged race, in which two persons have to run as a pair with one leg of each tied toghether? What about slow cycle 'race'? This is the only 'race' in which the person coming last in the race is declared the winner!! one fellow was so good in balancing the bicycle that he did not move even one bit from the starting point, when the other people had already reached the destination!!!
ReplyDeleteappa
Slow cycle race will be quite a spectacle... Like test cricket, it might never get over!
ReplyDelete-shankar