Promotion

Promotion
Ritam Saha
January 21st, 2018

In our country, a child’s capability is adjudged by his report card. Here, a 39 is looked upon with disgust when a child does not pass and a 99 is looked at with equal or greater disgust as the child failed to get full marks. In later stages, when schools allow subject choices, the science stream is often perceived as the stream where all the “knowledgeable” people go, to be defaulted as doctors or engineers when it's time to make a career choice. Here, young students are brought in aplenty and their wings and ambitions are clipped before they are immersed in complicated formulas, laws and numbers.

For Aahan, his mother had decided when he was only eleven that he was going to be a doctor.  When it was time for him to select a stream in high school, or rather his parents to select him a stream, (the subject choice form demanded only the parents’ signatures) he was put into science. “My boy’s studying science!” announced Aahan’s proud mother to her neighbour one fine morning. He's going to be a big doctor! He already knows a lot about it, she said, pointing out her sixteen year old son’s amazing knowledge of his textbook on basic biology. When the family got together on festivities and occasions and relatives would join in from near and far, Aahan’s parents made it a point to have them know that their son was already on his way to be a doctor! “He'll appear in the NEET next to next year!” said Aahan’s father over a glass of sherbet on Diwali. I've already put him into “High Hopes Pre-Medical Coaching Centre! It's a two year course. They prepare them so well! I see their advertisements daily. He'll surely get a brilliant rank in his first attempt.”

Aahan was caught in the midst of a swarm of textbooks with complicated diagrams and formulas. He struggled in coaching, he struggled in class. Once a national level swimmer, he could hardly train now. His parents had explained to him that his swimming skills would be of no help. Also, both of them used to see his phone as a direct obstruction to his studies and naturally, they had taken it away. To add to the mess, his mother stopped attending all occasions and made Aahan do the same – “ You know!”, she said, while turning down an invitation for her sister’s wedding, “ My son’s not going to be able to keep up with his studies if he attends so many occasions”! Aahan’s father joined in – “He needs to sit and study.” Aahan would have spoken up to tell them they were wrong, but the fear of his parents stopped him. Also, had he used the opportunity to speak, the relative would have instantly classified him as a manerless boy. He kept silent as the sister left their home.

Thus, time passed. ”High Hopes Centre” kept his parents’ hopes high. When Aahan secured low marks in their “mock” exams, they told his worried parents that they needed not to worry, and a good revision of his textbook would put him back on track. As he studied, Aahan would think of his past. His friends, his mischief in school, parties, get-togethers, happy occasions, school events..... A myriad of fond memories surrounded him. His life was no less than a joke now. There was no one to care for him, no one to share his feelings with. He had no phone, he wouldn't have been able to talk to his friends. His parents were there only to remind him to study. Straining his eyes on the open books, he soon lost the ability to see well and his parents took him to the ophthalmologist who prescribed a pair of spectacles.

Aahan’s Class XI half yearly exams were approaching in a month. His mother, of course, had started making preparations for it since quite some time. She managed to get special notes from special teachers. Aahan would have to memorise the notes by heart. He did. He unwillingly put his best into it. His mother had now started bringing his meals into his room. This, she explained to the surprised Aahan, was to save the precious time he'd waste if he ate in the dining room. Aahan’s mother began asking him questions from the special notes that she had arranged for and every wrong answer he gave, made her hysterical. Screams of “You'll fail! You'll fail!” would ring through the walls of their flat. Aahan would then have to read the entire portion out again, write down the answer and even then, his mother wouldn't be pacified.

September. As fall came in, the school suddenly became quieter. People gave up their time almost entirely to studying (memorizing). Those who had spent the year doing practically nothing, now began to flip through textbooks even during breaks; papers and copies lay scattered all over the desks. Attendance began to drop in all classes and sections as people preferred to stay back and study in the comfort of their homes. The  exams were coming close. Teachers suddenly began to be treated with more respect than ever.

“Sir, I'll be failing Sir! The syllabus is so difficult! Please tell me what's important!", worried students would their teachers. The teachers too, pleased with the sudden attention they were getting, began to display a sense of importance.

“One more word, and you’ll see what I do to your paper”, they would say, whenever someone fell out of grace. That was enough to get the worried students in perfect discipline.

When the half yearly exams were only a week away, Aahan was seldom allowed to sleep. He would drool over the open pages of his thick chemistry book while his mother waited close-by, lest he should give up the effort in exchange for slumber. The old physics derivations in Nootan’s Physics book began to flood his head and clog his brain. Meanwhile, biological diagrams stared at him from the walls of his room, where his ever anxious mother had put them up as charts. His father was now coming home an hour earlier to “give his son company”. He would closely monitor his son’s activities.

Finally, the dreaded exams began. Together, the entire school began writing them. Invigilators kept a close watch on every movement in the rooms, but even then, people did manage to cheat. Small pieces of paper were dangerously passed to and fro between students in the rooms, dodging the strict vigilance. After three hours of effort, the students would leave the hall in various moods. Some looked troubled, others satisfied and others happy. There were also some who pretended. Surprisingly, very few students were caught cheating, in spite of the large number of participants. Those who were caught would put up a considerably satisfying performance in front of the invigilator, who would then take pity on the child’s future and send him back to his desk with a warning.

Aahan hadn't considered cheating, being advised by his parents against it. He came to school on time, accompanied by his mother carrying flowers from a special morning prayer for him in the temple. He wrote his papers. His mother had forbidden him from gossiping with his friends after the exam lest he should get distracted. Aahan would therefore have to leave immediately after giving up the written manuscript. When the school bell rang to announce the end of the last exam, the classrooms erupted in cheers. People began to carry out plans they had made earlier to go out for lunch, or play football or go out station to spend the vacation and take a break. Aahan of course, had no option. His “High Hopes Centre” was taking a series of tests, so, while others would frolic and take a break, Aahan would retreat to his study to his advanced level coaching books.

Aahan studied all through his vacations and after his vacations too. Often, he would contemplate looking at the iron grills on his window and compare them to those of a prison. Through those thick, round iron bars he would look at the blue sky. Little puffy clouds filled with his dreams went floating across it. They were so free, those clouds. He was still daydreaming about them one day, when his mother walked in and saw him. “You’ll fail! You’ll fail! Not a day you study seriously!”

October turned into November and November into December. Little Christmas trees would be seen everywhere – shops, schools and offices. The city was gearing up for Christmas and the festivity. Stalls selling little red Santa caps popped up in the city. The air was rich with the scent of baking plum cakes. It was cold outside and people would now be seen in jumpers, coats and sweaters.
The new year rolled in. Invitations to new year parties were voluntarily turned down by Aahan’s mother. “Final exams!!” she exclaimed, when people inquired.

After a lot of wait, the month of March rolled in. Once again, the air was heavy with silence. Once noisy school corridors were now devoid of students. For some, this examination would determine their promotion to the next class. Many students burnt midnight oil and toiled behind thick, fat books. “Important” chapters were revised. “Very important” chapters were revised with greater care.

The examination scenario was a repetition of the half yearlies. Small bits of important information, cleverly hidden in pockets, desks, calculators, pens and even palms accompanied the examinees to be used at necessary moments. Some devised special communication methods, unique to those who knew it. Invigilators would patrol the rooms, pacing up and down and suddenly, without warning, would swing around in the middle of their rounds to catch any culprits. The boys, however, managed to evade, at least most of them did. In the end, only a few incidents were reported.

When the final exams were over, new plans were made. This time, Aahan’s mother allowed him to go to his friend's house, but he felt uncomfortable, having not spoken to them for quite some time. He remained majorly silent, observing the the clouds outside the window while the rest of them played football.

For almost all students, the most dreaded time of the year is the day of the report card. In accordance to school rules, papers were never shown to them. Instead, all the marks would be displayed on a report card, the only document of their struggles. Everyone awaited this day with a lot of nail-biting tension and stress. Anxious parents called up school teachers, who assured them not to worry. “I have marked very leniently, ma’am” they would say, “you just don't need to bother about it.”

Aahan was confident of a ninety percent average in his report card. After all, he had devoted the last year entirely to studying. On the big day, he walked up confidently to his class teacher with a smile planted on his face. The class teacher looked up at him straight in the eye. Paused. Then she said, “I’d not be smiling if I were you”. Followed by a long pause, then - “Aahan, you haven't been promoted. You didn't do well. Why didn't you study?”

It took him a long time to register what he'd just heard. When it finally did,  it came to him. Hard. Like a rock. He'd failed? How was that possible?

Aahan grabbed his report card and set his eyes on it. The report card was his all right. He shivered as his eyes went from number to number. It was all printed in bright red, as if a warning signal of his failures. Aahan ran to the Principal, a portly gentleman who had just seated himself in the office for a regular school day. He stood before the Principal, a horrified expression covering his face.

"What's the matter, boy?"

"Sir, it's the report card. These cannot be my marks Sir! I studied hard, Sir. I cannot fail!", said the horrified voice.

"In that case, who's marks do you think would be printed on your report card? Mine?". He sipped a little bit of coffee, then continued, "This is your report card, my boy. You have not secured good marks because you haven't studied. Now get out."

"But Sir, I'm sure..."

"OUT!"

Aahan’s mother at home had no idea of these developments back in school. Confident that must have come first, she was planning to take him out for dinner. She remembered that her son was fond of chocolates. The lady hurried out of the house to get some for him.

"I want the answer scripts and marks of File Number 11842", said the portly Principal to his secretary, moments after Aahan had left the room.

When Aahan returned home, the house was empty. He was burning inside. This wasn't a feeling of anger, but one of fear. His brain replayed the scene at the Principal's office. He remembered walking in, reasoning and then, suddenly "OUT!" and he jerked back to consciousness. Report card in his left hand,

___________________________________________________________

3:45 PM. The same day.

The telephone was ringing when Aahan's mother entered the house. Seeing the pair of black school boots lying next to the shoe rack, she knew her son was already home. Setting down the packet of chocolates, she hurried down the hallway to receive the call.

"Hello?" 

A pleasant female voice sounded on the other end of the line. "Good evening ma'am. This is the Principal's Secretary from Aahan's school".

"Oh yes ma'am! Good evening. Please carry on."

"The Principal sends his apologies to you and through you, to your son. We mistakenly printed an entire set of incorrect marks on your son's report card. He has been promoted with distinction in all subjects"

"No problem at all ma'am. I'm just home, haven't spoken to him yet. I will deliver the good news. Thank you!"

Aahan's mother rushed to his room. As she guessed, it was locked. She could guess why, so she shouted out to him, "YOUR SCHOOL GAVE YOU A WRONG REPORT CARD. THEY JUST CALLED UP!"

Silence replied to her from across the bolted door. Aahan's mother shouted out to him again. And again. And a third time.

The sound of a car honking on the deserted street below quickly caught her attention. Aahan's father had arrived. She rushed to bring him in, and the two parents went back to the closed door of Aahan's room.

It would be at least another forty-five minutes before they both realized that the door needed to be broken. With brute force, they rammed at the door. After several attempts, it gave way and they stumbled into the dark room.

Almost immediately, Aahan's mother screamed at what she saw. It was so loud that it attracted the attention of the neighbour woman, who immediately sensed an anomaly.

Aahan lay slumped over the desk in a pool of blood. There was a deep gash on his left wrist, and a bloody meat knife lay next to his head, on the pages of one of his copies. Streaks of blood lay splattered on the floor and dripped from his wrist. Both parents were silent for a few moments. Time had stopped for them. Then, his mother let out one long scream and fell unconscious. His father just managed to grab her as she fell. He was staring in a daze.

As the anxious neighbour hurried up the steps to their flat, she heard another loud helpless scream. The voice, this time was male. By the time medical help arrived, it had already been too late. Aahan had been promoted with distinction.