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Authors: Ravinder Singh
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math.
‘What?! Three hundred and fifty rupees!!!’ It was as if he had dropped a grenade.
For someone whose father was paying seventy rupees per month in Burla, it was nothing short of a grenade. Right then, it was clear in my mind that my father wouldn’t be able to afford a school with girls in skirts for his son.
Secondly, the convent school taught only till Class X, whereas the CBSE schools went on till Class XII. One would have to change schools again after the tenth. There was no point in changing schools again after three years. My dream was dying a natural death.
I thought about the girls in all the three CBSE-affiliated schools who wore boring salwar–kameezes with chunnis.
Nothing exciting there!
As far as this criterion was concerned,the other three schools stood equally disqualified. So my task at hand was to choose one among the disqualified ones.
Keeping aside the girls’ uniform, Madnawati was the most happening of the three CBSE schools. They had a school bus that came all the way up to Burla. The Central School had a decent school complex, but its quality of education was the lowest among the three. The Guru Nanak Public School was a smaller institution in comparison, with an average quality of education. It also didn’t have the school-bus facility to Burla, which is why hardly anyone from Burla joined that school.
My second choice became Madnawati, because all my classmates from the previous school were opting for Madnawati. But my parents were forcing me to join GNPS. I knew that both schools were far away from my home. I knew that everything would be different—the school, the classmates, the teachers and everything else. But, amid all these differences, I would have felt comfortable having my old classmates around me; whereas at GNPS I would be all alone! While all of them would comfortably go to school and come back in their school bus, I would be deprived of this fun. I would have to do my daily up and down in the public buses.
With all these concerns, I had been arguing with my parents. But at that age, I didn’t have the guts to go against my parents’ will.
Two days before joining GNPS, I overheard a conversationbetween my mother and my father. It was then that I found the reason behind Dad’s adamant decision to admit me to that school and Mom’s lack of support for my stand.
It was night and I was lying on my bed with my eyes closed. Dad had come home quite late and Mom had to serve him dinner. They thought I was fast asleep and, therefore, began chatting quite openly with each other.
‘Odey saarey dost Madnawati jaa rahe hain. Mainu pata hai odey wastey mushkil hovega.’ [All his friends are going to join Madnawati. I know it is going to be difficult for him.] This was Mom, speaking as she sat next to Dad while he ate.
A pause. Then, he said, ‘Thoda time lagega. Phir sab thik ho jaayega. Hor koi rasta vi nahi hai saddey kol.’ [It will take some time. Then everything will be fine. We don’t have any other way out.] I guessed that they were both looking at me as they were talking.
I made sure I didn’t open my eyes. I needed to know their thoughts.
I learnt that it was financially difficult for my parents to admit me to any of the other schools in Sambalpur. The fees were high and the daily travel to Sambalpur was going to pinch my dad’s pocket hard. But they didn’t want to leave any stone unturned in securing a good senior school for me.
GNPS was a ray of hope for them. The school was governed by a Sikh management committee. Dad had put an application in front of the committee, mentioning thefinancial condition of our family. Based on it, he had pleaded in that application to exempt me from paying the school fee.
Given the fact that Dad was a priest in a gurdwara, and also taking our family’s background into consideration, the committee—after holding multiple rounds of talks—had approved the application. That would save Dad one hundred and fifty rupees a
‘What?! Three hundred and fifty rupees!!!’ It was as if he had dropped a grenade.
For someone whose father was paying seventy rupees per month in Burla, it was nothing short of a grenade. Right then, it was clear in my mind that my father wouldn’t be able to afford a school with girls in skirts for his son.
Secondly, the convent school taught only till Class X, whereas the CBSE schools went on till Class XII. One would have to change schools again after the tenth. There was no point in changing schools again after three years. My dream was dying a natural death.
I thought about the girls in all the three CBSE-affiliated schools who wore boring salwar–kameezes with chunnis.
Nothing exciting there!
As far as this criterion was concerned,the other three schools stood equally disqualified. So my task at hand was to choose one among the disqualified ones.
Keeping aside the girls’ uniform, Madnawati was the most happening of the three CBSE schools. They had a school bus that came all the way up to Burla. The Central School had a decent school complex, but its quality of education was the lowest among the three. The Guru Nanak Public School was a smaller institution in comparison, with an average quality of education. It also didn’t have the school-bus facility to Burla, which is why hardly anyone from Burla joined that school.
My second choice became Madnawati, because all my classmates from the previous school were opting for Madnawati. But my parents were forcing me to join GNPS. I knew that both schools were far away from my home. I knew that everything would be different—the school, the classmates, the teachers and everything else. But, amid all these differences, I would have felt comfortable having my old classmates around me; whereas at GNPS I would be all alone! While all of them would comfortably go to school and come back in their school bus, I would be deprived of this fun. I would have to do my daily up and down in the public buses.
With all these concerns, I had been arguing with my parents. But at that age, I didn’t have the guts to go against my parents’ will.
Two days before joining GNPS, I overheard a conversationbetween my mother and my father. It was then that I found the reason behind Dad’s adamant decision to admit me to that school and Mom’s lack of support for my stand.
It was night and I was lying on my bed with my eyes closed. Dad had come home quite late and Mom had to serve him dinner. They thought I was fast asleep and, therefore, began chatting quite openly with each other.
‘Odey saarey dost Madnawati jaa rahe hain. Mainu pata hai odey wastey mushkil hovega.’ [All his friends are going to join Madnawati. I know it is going to be difficult for him.] This was Mom, speaking as she sat next to Dad while he ate.
A pause. Then, he said, ‘Thoda time lagega. Phir sab thik ho jaayega. Hor koi rasta vi nahi hai saddey kol.’ [It will take some time. Then everything will be fine. We don’t have any other way out.] I guessed that they were both looking at me as they were talking.
I made sure I didn’t open my eyes. I needed to know their thoughts.
I learnt that it was financially difficult for my parents to admit me to any of the other schools in Sambalpur. The fees were high and the daily travel to Sambalpur was going to pinch my dad’s pocket hard. But they didn’t want to leave any stone unturned in securing a good senior school for me.
GNPS was a ray of hope for them. The school was governed by a Sikh management committee. Dad had put an application in front of the committee, mentioning thefinancial condition of our family. Based on it, he had pleaded in that application to exempt me from paying the school fee.
Given the fact that Dad was a priest in a gurdwara, and also taking our family’s background into consideration, the committee—after holding multiple rounds of talks—had approved the application. That would save Dad one hundred and fifty rupees a
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