Sridhar followed the same ritual for the last ten days. He closed his eyes and knitted his eyebrow. With quivering lips, he chanted all the shlokas he knew. Gently, he tolled the temple bell and took "udhi" from the priest. Generously, he smeared it across his entire forehead till he appeared straight out of a cement-factory! He clasped his palms, walked around the temple three times till he was finally satisfied. He cast one last...longing glance at the deity, kissed his thumb and raised it to his eyes!
A sudden surge of religiosity engulfed Sridhar for the last ten days. The last time he followed the same temple-drill...was exactly a year ago...when the previous Annual Exam was underway. But he knew God was kind and merciful...and would forgive him for being irreverent for an entire year. Sridhar was not alone. All the boys at Don Bosco were swept with the same religious fever. They made a dash to the temple...across the road....just before the final bell rang. After all, divine help was crucial at the examination hall- every student relied on it to somehow compensate and fill-up for the yawning gaps in preparation!
It was not yet another examination day. Today was entirely different....the day you wrote the last exam and catapulted your way to freedom! It was a feeling like no other....the sheer anticipation...the nervous excitement!
Only a man consigned to prison for twenty years...and on the verge of being finally released would understand this feeling!
As you sat in the examination hall, you knew the flight to freedom was just three hours away. Three hours....and we would be finally done!
It was tough to grip the pen that day. The palms oozed with sweat, the hand had a tremor and the face had a smile which just wouldn't subside! Sridhar looked around...and met the equally beaming faces of other students....who went through the same welter of emotion!
Mrs Clare didn't betray any emotion though. She distributed the answer booklets one more time....and the question papers- all laid face down. The students got busy. They wrote the roll numbers...got the ruler out, drew a left margin here....and a right margin there....till there was hardly any central space to write on!
The electric bell rent the air with its shrill ring. From now on...it was all muscle reflex- there was no thinking required during the exam.
You answered what you knew...and took the best shot for questions which didn't make any sense.
The whirr of the fan, the occasional cough of the student, the clamor for new answer-supplements, the pens at feverish work...the furtive eyes trying to steal a glance from the adjoining paper....all juxtaposed with each other...forming a compelling collage. Time trickled away...like sand in an hour glass.
"Pens down!" Mrs Clare hollered. "If anyone writes....as much as one word, I will tear up the answer booklet!" With Mrs Clare, it was risky to take a chance. She might actually execute the threat!
The moment....the moment...everyone waited for! It was tough to believe...that the interminable exams were finally over...and we were.....actually free! At times, we feared this nightmare would never end. The bell rang one more time...and brought the day to a formal close.
The students bolted out of the door with a ferocity which couldn't be matched. They ran down the corridor....and hurtled down the stairs three at a time. Anxious parents stood at the base of the stairs...and got out of harm's way...just in time! Like a raging water-fall...a juggernaut of sorts...the boys swept aside everything on their way! They got out their ink-pens...and squirted ink on each other...till the shirt was more blue than white! It was a ritual followed every year and despite the warning of "stern action will be taken on the offenders", it continued unabated! Innovative methods were introduced each year- with a potato sliced and doused in ink...and slapped against the back of the student! No one was spared- not the teacher, not the parent, not the school attendant. "Father" Lionel's white gown had a streak of blue all across his back. He thought he had caught the offender...only to find him slip and melt away into the crowd. It was a helpless feeling. A swarm of students made a dash to the Principal's office and the staff room and shouted in a frenzy "We want holiday! We want holiday!"
None of us knew why we shouted. After all, the holidays were upon us! None of them knew how to respond. They simply ignored us...like one would ignore the rant of a madman! The more sportive teachers...shouted back "Happy Holidays"!
The April sun was merciless and at noon, it was at the peak of its powers. We crossed the road and stood outside "Rasna Punjab" restaurant in groups. The dazzle of the sun reduced the stately buildings of Don Bosco and its famed church to a blur. Each one had a plan for the vacation....a different plan. David planned to join the "Abbas Circulating Library" and would devour all the books he could find. Mulraj would leave for his "native" that very night from VT by some "Mail Train". Some made grandiose plans to wake up early each morning to play shuttle-cork. The plans were simple. No one went on exotic trips to Alaska in those days. We only knew Alaska to be a place where Eskimos crawled in and out of igloos and the prospect of vacationing with them was simply absurd. Boys went to exotic places like Madras or Maniachi or at the most to Chinchpokli. There was no holiday homework. It was an oxymoron...only morons did work during the holidays!
I stayed with Sridhar that afternoon. We took a bus to Shivaji Park, had lunch at his place, loitered aimlessly by the sea and bought tickets at the Plaza for the 3-6 show. May be, we watched Amitabh Bachchan in "Naseeb" or in "Ram Balram". Each year...it was different. Each year...the feeling was the same: of euphoria, of unalloyed happiness.
"Ye daulat bhi ley lo....
ye shaurat bhi ley lo....
bhale chheen lo mujhse meri javani....
magar lauta do mujhko...
bachpan ka who saavan...
woh kaagaz ki kashti...woh baarish ka paani
woh kaagaz kim kashti...woh baarish ka paani"
(Take away this wealth...if you must...
Take away this pomp and fame...if you must...
Take away even this youth...if you must....
But....give me back...if you can....
those childhood days...spent in the sweeping rains....
those childhood days...spent with a paper boat in the running waters..
those childhood days...spent with a paper boat in the running waters...)
P.S: Today is the last day of exams for the kids. I was reminded of my own!
A sudden surge of religiosity engulfed Sridhar for the last ten days. The last time he followed the same temple-drill...was exactly a year ago...when the previous Annual Exam was underway. But he knew God was kind and merciful...and would forgive him for being irreverent for an entire year. Sridhar was not alone. All the boys at Don Bosco were swept with the same religious fever. They made a dash to the temple...across the road....just before the final bell rang. After all, divine help was crucial at the examination hall- every student relied on it to somehow compensate and fill-up for the yawning gaps in preparation!
It was not yet another examination day. Today was entirely different....the day you wrote the last exam and catapulted your way to freedom! It was a feeling like no other....the sheer anticipation...the nervous excitement!
Only a man consigned to prison for twenty years...and on the verge of being finally released would understand this feeling!
As you sat in the examination hall, you knew the flight to freedom was just three hours away. Three hours....and we would be finally done!
It was tough to grip the pen that day. The palms oozed with sweat, the hand had a tremor and the face had a smile which just wouldn't subside! Sridhar looked around...and met the equally beaming faces of other students....who went through the same welter of emotion!
Mrs Clare didn't betray any emotion though. She distributed the answer booklets one more time....and the question papers- all laid face down. The students got busy. They wrote the roll numbers...got the ruler out, drew a left margin here....and a right margin there....till there was hardly any central space to write on!
The electric bell rent the air with its shrill ring. From now on...it was all muscle reflex- there was no thinking required during the exam.
You answered what you knew...and took the best shot for questions which didn't make any sense.
The whirr of the fan, the occasional cough of the student, the clamor for new answer-supplements, the pens at feverish work...the furtive eyes trying to steal a glance from the adjoining paper....all juxtaposed with each other...forming a compelling collage. Time trickled away...like sand in an hour glass.
"Pens down!" Mrs Clare hollered. "If anyone writes....as much as one word, I will tear up the answer booklet!" With Mrs Clare, it was risky to take a chance. She might actually execute the threat!
The moment....the moment...everyone waited for! It was tough to believe...that the interminable exams were finally over...and we were.....actually free! At times, we feared this nightmare would never end. The bell rang one more time...and brought the day to a formal close.
The students bolted out of the door with a ferocity which couldn't be matched. They ran down the corridor....and hurtled down the stairs three at a time. Anxious parents stood at the base of the stairs...and got out of harm's way...just in time! Like a raging water-fall...a juggernaut of sorts...the boys swept aside everything on their way! They got out their ink-pens...and squirted ink on each other...till the shirt was more blue than white! It was a ritual followed every year and despite the warning of "stern action will be taken on the offenders", it continued unabated! Innovative methods were introduced each year- with a potato sliced and doused in ink...and slapped against the back of the student! No one was spared- not the teacher, not the parent, not the school attendant. "Father" Lionel's white gown had a streak of blue all across his back. He thought he had caught the offender...only to find him slip and melt away into the crowd. It was a helpless feeling. A swarm of students made a dash to the Principal's office and the staff room and shouted in a frenzy "We want holiday! We want holiday!"
None of us knew why we shouted. After all, the holidays were upon us! None of them knew how to respond. They simply ignored us...like one would ignore the rant of a madman! The more sportive teachers...shouted back "Happy Holidays"!
The April sun was merciless and at noon, it was at the peak of its powers. We crossed the road and stood outside "Rasna Punjab" restaurant in groups. The dazzle of the sun reduced the stately buildings of Don Bosco and its famed church to a blur. Each one had a plan for the vacation....a different plan. David planned to join the "Abbas Circulating Library" and would devour all the books he could find. Mulraj would leave for his "native" that very night from VT by some "Mail Train". Some made grandiose plans to wake up early each morning to play shuttle-cork. The plans were simple. No one went on exotic trips to Alaska in those days. We only knew Alaska to be a place where Eskimos crawled in and out of igloos and the prospect of vacationing with them was simply absurd. Boys went to exotic places like Madras or Maniachi or at the most to Chinchpokli. There was no holiday homework. It was an oxymoron...only morons did work during the holidays!
I stayed with Sridhar that afternoon. We took a bus to Shivaji Park, had lunch at his place, loitered aimlessly by the sea and bought tickets at the Plaza for the 3-6 show. May be, we watched Amitabh Bachchan in "Naseeb" or in "Ram Balram". Each year...it was different. Each year...the feeling was the same: of euphoria, of unalloyed happiness.
"Ye daulat bhi ley lo....
ye shaurat bhi ley lo....
bhale chheen lo mujhse meri javani....
magar lauta do mujhko...
bachpan ka who saavan...
woh kaagaz ki kashti...woh baarish ka paani
woh kaagaz kim kashti...woh baarish ka paani"
(Take away this wealth...if you must...
Take away this pomp and fame...if you must...
Take away even this youth...if you must....
But....give me back...if you can....
those childhood days...spent in the sweeping rains....
those childhood days...spent with a paper boat in the running waters..
those childhood days...spent with a paper boat in the running waters...)
P.S: Today is the last day of exams for the kids. I was reminded of my own!
