The day’s events have exhausted me. There is too much excitement to contain. So I decide to sit and write.
I am wrapped in questions, problems, solutions and exercises and some more exercises. There is no end to it. Even in my dreams I am explaining how a report is written differently than an article and how Keynes differed from classical economists. What make everything more complex are the extra questions of mathematics, which are, simply beyond my comprehension and which Dove insists that I explain her. Now how on earth am going to crack them! Not able to grasp that her mom has limits, she refuses to take help from anybody else. The whims of a preteen are sometimes simply baffling. Gripped in the time crunch my guilt deepens as I am really not able to do much.
Exams over, it's time for Dove to visit her school to check her answer sheets for any errors that might have crept in totaling etc. When she comes back she is in tears. She has just fallen short of a mark to make it to a scholar. Ironically, more painful is the fact, that her mathematics teacher has awarded her three marks extra and she goes back and gets them corrected. It is too big a temptation but she has overcome it, else her Mom would be angry. But now in front of her mom she breaks down. All her dreams and hard work through the year are shattered. I appreciate her. She has done the right thing. She remains my star. However, nothing can console her now. Her disappointment has not ebbed. But then some of life’s lessons are learnt the hard way. Work harder next year. With a resolution to practice mathematics regularly the matter is closed.
Today is Dove’s result. Though the dad daughter duo can fetch the result I decide to take a half-day from my work. My decision is not free from my guilt, that I could have given her more time. We rush through the maddening Delhi traffic. Somehow we are able to make it on time.
Her teacher congratulates us. We thank her with a wry smile. Not able to digest our dryness, the charming class teacher congratulates us once again but this time she adds another word to her congratulating note. Scholar. I hurriedly scan through the report card. My eyes are fixed on the column where the heading Scholar is ticked. How could that be. She was running short of the stipulated percentage. I am no Ramanujan in mathematics but then simple percentage calculation is not beyond my capability. She clarifies. Dove was considered as a special case for the award. All the teachers have vouched for her and requested the Principal to grant her an extra grace mark. So scholar she becomes! I am too dazed to comment. All the haze has evaporated and what remains are the sparkling crystal colours.
“Honesty is the cornerstone of all success, without which confidence and ability to perform shall cease to exist.” Mary Kay Ash
the quietness descends...
as heartbeats single out a song...
to be borne aloft...
and carried to a friend ...
far across oceans in a distant land...
a whisper that mingles with fragrant thoughts...
reaching out as the evening sets...
and settles into ur palms...
as u cup it to your ears...
and you shall hear me...
call out your name...
anjali...
anjali...
anjali...
A priceless treat from a friend...Pincushion.
In the morning assembly Principal is wishing students great success in the exams they are going to attempt shortly. She is also warning them against the use of any form of unfair means. “A friend who appears to help while cheating is in fact crippling you, making you a dependent forever. Be wary of such friends.” Golden words.
Despite being on the other side of the fence now the mere mention of exams gives me goosebumps. As if in dream I float back into the tunnel.
I am a little girl and my dad is telling me never to use any unfair means to get anything in life. Always be honest and seek the truth. I listen to him and his words are sown deep inside. Whatever he says has to be absolutely right beyond doubt because he is always right. He is the epitome of truth.
I float nearer. Tomorrow is my Economics exam. I am well prepared. I have an excellent teacher in school and she has clarified all my problems. All set for the battle the next day. Just then my neighbour comes and shows me a piece of paper. It has a set of questions which she claims are coming in next day's exam. I laugh the whole matter away. It's not a mere school test but The Board. Nevertheless just out of curiosity and to test my knowledge I sit down and solve the questions. Fairly easy I will be able to do it. Bah! The Board question paper! The girl must be out of her mind.
After an eight hours long sleep I rush through the morning chores and off to Hansraj Model School. As I fight the pre exam sinking feeling I open the question paper with trembling hands. First question, second question, third question…Oh my God! The girl was right. How could that be? I am pale. I can’t concentrate. All I can see is utter darkness. All I can hear is “never use unfair means”. All I can think is, why to work so hard the whole year long if I were to take this easy way out. I tell myself repeatedly that I didn’t go for it. But then I shouldn’t have seen the paper when she said it was going to come in today’s paper. Whatever had to happen has happened. I can’tt help it anymore. Let me give it my best shot now. But its too late. Before I know the time has flown away. I am going to flunk. I haven’t been able to write any answer properly.
I am inconsolable. Nobody is able to understand why I am crying. Some friends are envious. In fact they are cursing me for not letting out the secret. If only I had known. Nobody will understand. I have let my dad down. He is not going to be proud of his girl.
“Stand straight for the national anthem!”, the commanding voice reverts me back into the present with a thud. The classes are dispersed and students are running to their respective examination rooms. I have to check some question papers so I hurry to the front office.
As young persons there was only one truth, the absolute truth. There is never a doubt about the truth itself. Its only a question of following it or failing it. But not for long. The cracks bewilder you. As a young person it’s only the black or white that occupies your value system but later the greys occupy you. The worst part is that grey comes in various shades. This keeps you embroiled in a wide array of choices. Besides it also provides an escape route to justify many a dubious short cut, act and deed. In the end though, whatever choices we make the result is always in black and white.
In the season of colours its not fair to talk about black and white only. I wish everybody a very colourful and happy Holi. May your life be filled with colours of joy, happiness, love, growth and prosperity.
PostScript : For those of you who are curious about the result of that fateful exam, the next day the CBSE Board declared it a leak. The exam was conducted again in which I got highest marks in Economics in my school. I also got 29th position in all India ranking.
It could have been a wonderful year. A year in which we grew to such a height that all we could see was a colourful crop of crisp flowers without all the worms and mud blurred and buried underneath. We could be euphoric about our GDP growing at a steady rate, a glorious presence in the global IT sector, people of Indian origin stealing the limelight, finally justice meted to Jessica Lal and Priyadarshini Matoo and so much more. The list seems long.
The words on TOI’s front page on 1st January, 2007 expresse a similar sentiment and felt like a powerhouse of inspiration. But the last words caught my attention – Our Time Is Now.
Our time is now; we are the privileged ones to be experiencing the turning page of history. There is reason for us to believe that we will make it. But we should not forget to salute the ones who in the bleakest of times believed that India could make it, that India will make it. The ones who had a vision to bring this moment of hope in the annals of our history. Who are those people? Visionaries like Nehru, APJ Abul Kalam, Narayana Murty ; scientists, writers, artists and the common man who spent all his life’s savings to provide best education to his children. A moment like this is not the achievement of one generation alone, it is the result of hard work and sacrifices made by the ones before them.
I repeat the year could have been a wonderful year, but if we lower our necks we will notice a layer of deadly worms thriving on our society. The NOIDA serial killing case shocked the NCT and the police-criminal nexus once again sprang into limelight. Most of the people killed belonged to the poor class and the police had taken no action till the affected people took the matter in their own hands. Children kept on disappearing and police kept on sleeping. A timely action by the police could have saved so many innocent lives.
The whole nation may have prayed for a single Prince to be saved from a 50-metre fall into a pit, but the pits proliferate and children keep falling into them, most of the time fatally. When the urban youth with large pay packets splurges in malls and Discos, the poor farmers commit suicides for lack of resources to sustain their farming. And yes despite the justice granted to Jessica and Priyadarshini innumerable woman are raped, harassed and molested every year.
So India is poised only for the rich and the haves. The lives of have nots remain marginalized and unaffected by this turning page of history. If we really have to take a giant leap forward in time the richer India the prosperous India should look down. Whatever it does should pour down to all below them. If there is justice it should be for all. If there is food it should be for all. If there is education it should be for all. If there is growth it should be broad based.
When we finally make that flight let us all fly like birds. The privileged ones pushing the poor ones to make a pattern. A pattern of victory.
PS :
India Poised
"There are two Indias in this country.
One India is straining at the leash, eager to spring forth and live up to all the adjectives that the world has been showering recently upon us. The other India is the leash.
One India says give me a chance and I'll prove myself. The other India says prove yourself first and maybe then you'll have a chance.
One India lives in the optimism of our hearts. The other India lurks in the skepticism of our minds.
One India wants. The other India hopes. One India leads. The other India follows.
But conversions are on the rise. With each passing day more and more people from the other India have been coming over to this side. And quietly, while the world is not looking, a pulsating, dynamic new India is emerging.
An India whose faith in success is far greater than its fear of failure. An India that no longer boycotts foreign-made goods but buys out the companies that make them instead.
History, they say, is a bad motorist. It rarely ever signals its intentions when it's taking a turn.
This is that rarely-ever moment. History is turning a page.
For over half a century, our nation has sprung, stumbled, run, fallen, rolled over, got up and dusted herself and cantered, sometimes lurched on. But today, as we begin our 60th year as a free nation, the ride has brought us to the edge of time's great precipice.
And one India - a tiny little voice at the back of the head - is looking down at the bottom of the ravine and hesitating.
The other India is looking up at the sky and saying it's time to fly.
Our time is now"
I hope everyone here had a merry Christmas irrespective of their caste, creed or religion. Yes, irrespective of all that. I read with wonder Karan Thapar’s Sunday Sentiments. And his observations were confirmed by my visiting friend from the US. Times evolve and old customs give in to new ones, but for some of us the old order remains.
With Christmas came a host of memories that chronicle how priorities change through times. My earliest memories of Christmas celebration are from Prague. Two incidents rush forward from a muted clamour of memories. The first one is the memory of the Christmas being celebrated in the school. How the class was decorated and a Christmas tree stood at the corner of our class. All the children brought their gifts and kept it under the tree. The class teacher then picked up each gift and announced the name of its receiver. Total bliss.
The other one was how being the elder sibling, I conspired with my dad to hide Santa’s gift for my darling sis. We were to hide it in a small enclosure meant for switches etc., at the entrance of our residence. She already had an inkling of something being cooked up. But she was smarter than we gave her credit for. Just as the father daughter duo were tiptoeing back after safely hiding Santa’s gift she frightened us by coming out of her hiding, clapping and jumping hilariously. Needless to say that was the last of Santa years for the two of us.
Or maybe I am wrong. The Santa days were to come back again when Dove started relishing chocolates. Months ahead she would be told to behave herself as Santa’s inspectors would be looking for well behaved children who deserve gifts from him. So finally, when the gifts arrived they served a double purpose, the sheer joy of receiving the gift and a boost to her pride. She was the chosen one. Well indeed she is. But as she grew up she would try to refute the existence of Santa. Once the gifts stopped coming as a punishment of her doubts she quickly realized the folly of being so loud. This year it was, “ Mama what will Santa bring for me? Could it be an iPod?” Well doubt kills many a joy of life. Sooner or later she had to learn it. Nevertheless, Mama promised her a gift in the coming New Year.
With Santa missing in action, this Christmas wasn’t that christmasy like the earlier ones. But Jingle Bells kept echoing throughout the day as the sledge kept running through the snowy paths.
Happy New Year to all of you.
Some Colours...and Gogh
Spring follows the cold winter...
Yellow is bright but red never fades...
Peschi in fiore, 1888 Vincent Van Gogh
Some Frost ... All Gogh
...and the eternal struggle.
