Y is my childhood school buddy
and we've been harmlessly mean (you know, in an innocent way) to each other.
She hated me for topping the class and I hated her for the awesome Tibetan noodles
and momos she got as lunch. But we pretty much stuck together. So in her FB
post today, she asked her friends to recount how and where we met her and our
mutual comments drizzled to how I got the double promotion at school. And, I told
her it’s some story and I should tell her sometime.
So, this is for all of you, who
know and don’t know that I got double promoted in school, not once but twice. Yes,
I spent just 11 years in school.
There was no pre-school when I was
growing up and the mandatory has-to-be-3 yrs old rule for Nursery A and that I was
a July-born made things difficult for my parents. I don’t remember learning
rhymes or ABC. I had figured numbers till 100.All the colors, most animals,
birds and the blah. I must be 3 when I used to struggle through multiplication
table 9 and, how I hated my parents for it. I recited my first poem before I began
school – a Bengali poem composed by my father, I don’t even recollect a word.
My nursery interview was a
disaster, my parents think. Because I could not sing any conventional nursery
rhyme but I belted my own chartbuster – of some dandy this, dandy that. But my
headmistress was quite delighted with my performance and promoted me to Nursery
B. Of course, my parents were relieved and eventually proud, and one more blame
game subdued. So that makes Y my immediate junior. The stakes just got higher
and I was learning the table of 13 and 14 with lot of stress, sheer rote. And
no, my mother didn’t feed me almonds or memory enhancing tablets. I was pretty
much the topper all through kindergarten and class 1 and also, the class
monitor. Always.
Then things got out of order. We
had to leave town because my dad’s mother, technically my paternal grandma was
unwell - a cranky old lady who was not particularly fond of kids. So, I didn’t
go to school for a year. Father’s meager salary couldn’t meet all expenses and
selling ancestral property for short term plugging was not his kind of problem
solving. He promised to get me to school the next year. I was cool about it.
That year, I played under the tropical sun, woke up whenever I felt like, slept
whenever I felt sleepy, walked 2 kms to watch BR Chopra’s Mahabharat every
Sunday, climbed trees, plucked fruits, chased cows, got bitten by leeches and
stung by ants, fell into ponds almost drowned, got scared by snakes and ghosts
and what not! But, that year remains by far the most educative of my entire
life. I saw how tough it was for Mother to go through the grind at so many
levels, our younger brother was just born and my sister was just 2 years old.
Father learnt it the hard way that one’s own brothers and relatives can be
pretty indifferent when the going gets tough. Lessons in resilience and
self-reliance.
Fast forward to the next year, we
came back to Shillong to start from where we left. Lost all our belongings and
household stuff to the idiocy of our landlord’s son - recovered most of the
documents but lost plenty of memories.
Rehab started and I was back in school. My old classmates were a year
senior and I was where I needed to be, Y became my classmate. My parents never
prepared me – they thought I was brave enough to handle it. But, my old
classmates were taunting, the boys especially. They’re sure I’d flunked a year.
And, here I was trying to tell them my grandma was ill. But who listens to a
6-year old? The shame gave way to resilience. I gathered steam and did enough
to tell others that I am better than them. I was the class topper and the class
monitor in a more democratic setting of course.
My winter vacations were
rigorous. My father made sure I had procured Math and Grammar textbooks from my
immediate seniors and I had to slog it out a couple of hours. No, we didn’t
visit relatives because their kids had winter exams, CBSE syllabi. So every
spring when school re-opened I was sort of ahead of the others in class. But there
were equally bright and intelligent folks in class like Y who learnt stuff
there, in the moment when the teachers showed them.
At the end of my sixth standard
winter vacation, besides my winter ritual of Math and Grammar practice I spent
some part of it learning how to make candles with my Headmistress’s daughter.
She was a couple years older than I and I learnt a good deal of art and hobby
stuff from her. She also helped me with my projects. As the holidays were drawing
to a close and school books were readied for the next session and like always, I
had mastered almost more than half of my Math and Grammar for the seventh
standard. I was very bored one evening at home looking at my books when someone
joked that I should consider asking for a double promotion. And that’s it. The
next day, I actually had the gall to present my case to the headmistress while
she was running up to office to receive late admissions. And, I don’t remember
what all I spoke to her but she smiled at me and asked me for a valid reason. I
told her I am generally good in a lot of things and there is evidence – I’ve
been consistently winning the General Proficiency prize every year. More
importantly, I had cracked more than half of the 7th standard Math
and Grammar. I am definitely sure my headmistress must have thought I was
crazy. I came home and told about my incredible case to my parents. They didn’t
laugh at me but they didn’t condemn me either. I was relieved and by evening I had
forgotten about it.
School reopened and we were
officially in the 7th standard, there was something about being in
this class. Coming of age sorts. Our class teacher was a fabulous light-eyed
lady who would teach us English Literature and Grammar. She got us organized for
the year, divided us into activity groups and who would do what. We loved the sense of community in the class.
Each one contributed not beyond 50 paise to a rupee for the class fund and we’d
get the charts in place and tidy up with nice dainty curtains. So the monitors
were the cashiers and our class teacher assured us that she’d cover should we
run into any shortage. Of course, she meant every word of it. The first day of
school is usually a half-day, staff meeting and annual plan of action and all
that.
It was just the second day when I
was counting the coins to procure chart papers and we’re quite sufficient I thought
for the time being. You’ll always find me on the front row when the class
teacher beckoned me. My instinctive reaction was – no Miss, we don’t need the
money. We’re doing good. We’d ask you when we need. She gave me a puzzled look.
She gently brushed my protests and asked me to come to her table. I went up.
She told me in her very calm voice to pack my bags and go to the 8th
standard classroom. I was like what??!! Oh wait! Yes, we had a staff meeting
yesterday and the teachers agreed that Kiran should be given a chance to prove
herself in the 8th standard. And I also respect those teachers who would
have protested and rightly so. I don’t think I even said a proper bye to my
buddies. I just walked away in dazed amazement.
That walk to 8th
standard classroom was the toughest, the loneliest and the longest. Young 14-year
olds embracing adolescence and teenage angst and what’s that got to do with
someone who just got a double promotion. I knocked the door. My new class
teacher received me matter-of-fact. Of course, she did her best to keep it as
low profile as ever. And, I am thankful to her for that. My really former
classmates were puzzled – those enquiring looks and some pretty dismissive and
indifferent but no harm or malice at any point in time. I took the corner most
seat on the front row abandoned by all and looked around. How I wanted to run
back to my last class of familiar faces and friends. And, the wait for school
to finish so that I could run home and tell parents that I just got double
promoted. One girl reached out, she still remains my fondest friend though we
are not so much in touch these days. More folks joined us in the coming days.
No more segregated classrooms – boys and girls in one class, one big equal.
I continued to remain a pariah
and outsider for reasons best known to the girls at least. Oh yes, one reason
was I was not dating anyone in the short lived class affairs. I was such an
unattractive nerd and I couldn’t bring myself to create those mushy feelings
for my fellow boys, I looked at them as equals in the field. I even went to the
extent of proclaiming my innocence by tying the sacred Rakhi thread on those
poor hapless boys who also readily agreed. I did what I was good at – studies and
I soon earned the sobriquet – teacher’s pet. It was fashionable to be a rebel
and I was anything but a rebel. So the class hated me with all its might. I was
competing with 4 boys for the top slot in the class. I had average marks in a
couple subjects and I quite remember those subject teachers giving me those all
knowing but shrugging I-told-you-so looks almost making me regret my double
promotion. I was unsure if I’d ever crack Acids, Bases and Salts like a pro and
balance chemical equations like that. I worked harder and longer. My old mates had
no choice but to give me that space. To be accepted in a new environment, one
tries every trick in the book – right from writing assignments for others and
undergoing friendly roast-ish banter and bullying. I also gave it back to one of
the bullies in class, male or female you should not ask. The next year, I was
elected Vice Head Girl and eventually, I went on to become the Head Girl of our
school. My moment of reckoning had come but at some amount of personal cost –
boycotted for being different.
My parents taught me to deal with
shit by not taking shit, no mollycoddling. And, it’s ok to be hated by some.
Whoa, the perils of a double promotion. No, it does not have to do with being
bright and brilliant with the books alone. There’s so much going on underwater.
I wish I had more mindful teachers who saw me battle out all alone and who should
have given me a gentle nudge or a kind word once in a while. My Math tutor
refused to admit me to the prestigious all boys club because they’re brighter
and faster and whatever. I refused to budge and told him that I was saving up
all my fuel for the Boards and he shall live the day to see that. I just did enough
to get distinction marks in most papers, I left a couple of questions unanswered
because I was so damn sure of what I wrote and I was not wrong, I topped the
school. Everyone happy, my parents and especially my school – my Headmistress
and my teachers, their investment and trust in me had paid off. But I also
learnt that I was not always right. The difference of marks between the State
topper and me were 17 marks and I had donated 30 marks worth questions just
like that. Lesson learnt, compete with yourself not with others.
