As told by- A pencil
School was fun till some fool went ahead and devised tests. Here were all the young, enterprising though somewhat hastily scrubbed shiny clean students minding their own business of enjoying life by fooling around or chatting in between study periods when all the laughter got sucked out of their systems and the happy foreheads developed worry lines at the announcement of an impending test, the very next day. One should be fair and follow upright policy of ‘live and let live’ was Purja’s firm belief. But belling the cat, in this instance the class teacher was a bit far-fetched. No leeway there, and whether one liked it or not, the test had to be taken to stay within the school system and avoid parental wrath. More than oneself, the people around complicated one’s life, he felt.
He, who had barely mastered the art of word formation and suffered from, what is termed as a very bad writing syndrome, was asked along with rest of the second grade class to learn ten sentences on cow in English, for a written test the next day. Do not forget, these were the mid twentieth century times when most of the public schools in Northern India still followed Hindi as a medium of instructions and the students conversed mostly in Hindi, barring few showoffs who spoke gibberish English to impress others with no one the wiser. Under these circumstances, mugging was the best option.
The next day, after a whole hour of frantic mugging on the way to school sitting on the back seat of the bus so that he would not be distracted, our friend reproduced the mugged sentences on the answer sheet as quickly as he could. It would be foolish to test his memory beyond a certain limit, he felt. His pencil broke once and he used the eraser a few time making the sheet somewhat untidy but these details did not bother him. Purja was the first one to hand over his answer sheet to a rather skeptical teacher who asked him to recheck his answer first. In less than five minutes, he was by her side again. Reluctantly, she took the sheet and allowed him to go to the playground, a standard practice during the tests whereby the rest of the students were not disturbed by the ones who had finished the test. Purja ran to the jungle gym. What an advantage it was to finish first. Not only did one have the playground to oneself but it also did a world of good for ones overall image within the student community. He hadn’t missed the envious glances of his classmates as he left the class for the playground. Surely he was the best student in the whole school, he thought. By now rest of the students started trickling one by one and the gym became crowded again but for once the ‘cat having eaten the cream type’ of smile never left his face for a single minute. He had written all ten sentences correctly, though unknown to him there was a small but a potent catch. The teacher could not decipher a single word as she sat down to correct his test paper that evening. Finally she gave up planting a big zero on top of the sheet.
“Purja stand up and read what you have written.” She called out to him to come to the front of class the next day. She was handing back the checked answer sheet to the students. Purja walked over to her confidently, being sure to have scored full marks. He was shaken to see a big zero in place of a perfect ten. Surely there was something wrong somewhere though he was at loss to find the cause till he tried reading what he had written and could not read his own handwriting. By now the mugged material had already taken leave of his memory and vanished somewhere within his mental space, he tried recollecting but the sentences eluded him completely hence he could not even fool his way through. He stood for a long time. He was angry with the teacher for making him do her work. After all she was paid to read the answer sheets, wasn’t she? It was only a certain sense of propriety and awe that stopped him from pointing out this fact to her.
“Well, I was chewed in the process of concentrated effort of decoding the written words but to no avail. The teacher was highly amused but did not let it show on her face. She had a fantastic anecdote for the teachers lounge. Finally Purja was sent to summon Sesa from her class with a special request for her teacher to excuse her for a few minutes. Why involve his sister when the things could be amiably settled between him and the teacher was something Purja could not understand but he had no choice. Sesa, known for her good handwriting, was shown the unreadable answer sheet of her younger brother with instructions of getting it signed by her parents. He could have done that easily enough, was what Purja felt as he stood facing the wall in the corridor outside the class. The teacher was definitely dumb. He never did like her after that especially since she made him write the sentences repeatedly till she could read them. His reputation was mud and he never forgave her for showing his answer sheet to the whole class. And she never did find out though who tied the corner of her sari to the chair two days later. It was funny to see her startle and almost jump at a sudden loud sound of the chair toppling as she got up to write on the black-board.” Oh what exciting though somewhat chewy times the pencil had had.
He, who had barely mastered the art of word formation and suffered from, what is termed as a very bad writing syndrome, was asked along with rest of the second grade class to learn ten sentences on cow in English, for a written test the next day. Do not forget, these were the mid twentieth century times when most of the public schools in Northern India still followed Hindi as a medium of instructions and the students conversed mostly in Hindi, barring few showoffs who spoke gibberish English to impress others with no one the wiser. Under these circumstances, mugging was the best option.
The next day, after a whole hour of frantic mugging on the way to school sitting on the back seat of the bus so that he would not be distracted, our friend reproduced the mugged sentences on the answer sheet as quickly as he could. It would be foolish to test his memory beyond a certain limit, he felt. His pencil broke once and he used the eraser a few time making the sheet somewhat untidy but these details did not bother him. Purja was the first one to hand over his answer sheet to a rather skeptical teacher who asked him to recheck his answer first. In less than five minutes, he was by her side again. Reluctantly, she took the sheet and allowed him to go to the playground, a standard practice during the tests whereby the rest of the students were not disturbed by the ones who had finished the test. Purja ran to the jungle gym. What an advantage it was to finish first. Not only did one have the playground to oneself but it also did a world of good for ones overall image within the student community. He hadn’t missed the envious glances of his classmates as he left the class for the playground. Surely he was the best student in the whole school, he thought. By now rest of the students started trickling one by one and the gym became crowded again but for once the ‘cat having eaten the cream type’ of smile never left his face for a single minute. He had written all ten sentences correctly, though unknown to him there was a small but a potent catch. The teacher could not decipher a single word as she sat down to correct his test paper that evening. Finally she gave up planting a big zero on top of the sheet.
“Purja stand up and read what you have written.” She called out to him to come to the front of class the next day. She was handing back the checked answer sheet to the students. Purja walked over to her confidently, being sure to have scored full marks. He was shaken to see a big zero in place of a perfect ten. Surely there was something wrong somewhere though he was at loss to find the cause till he tried reading what he had written and could not read his own handwriting. By now the mugged material had already taken leave of his memory and vanished somewhere within his mental space, he tried recollecting but the sentences eluded him completely hence he could not even fool his way through. He stood for a long time. He was angry with the teacher for making him do her work. After all she was paid to read the answer sheets, wasn’t she? It was only a certain sense of propriety and awe that stopped him from pointing out this fact to her.
“Well, I was chewed in the process of concentrated effort of decoding the written words but to no avail. The teacher was highly amused but did not let it show on her face. She had a fantastic anecdote for the teachers lounge. Finally Purja was sent to summon Sesa from her class with a special request for her teacher to excuse her for a few minutes. Why involve his sister when the things could be amiably settled between him and the teacher was something Purja could not understand but he had no choice. Sesa, known for her good handwriting, was shown the unreadable answer sheet of her younger brother with instructions of getting it signed by her parents. He could have done that easily enough, was what Purja felt as he stood facing the wall in the corridor outside the class. The teacher was definitely dumb. He never did like her after that especially since she made him write the sentences repeatedly till she could read them. His reputation was mud and he never forgave her for showing his answer sheet to the whole class. And she never did find out though who tied the corner of her sari to the chair two days later. It was funny to see her startle and almost jump at a sudden loud sound of the chair toppling as she got up to write on the black-board.” Oh what exciting though somewhat chewy times the pencil had had.
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