The Last Day Of The Exam

 The Last Day of The Exam

The creased heads, exceptional earnestness, books even in rarest hands, and a tickle of irritation on the faces of strained souls, told the story of the horror known by the name "Examination". The horror which, regardless of stature or disposition, grips everyone. The horror which come like a festival every year and which is celebrated in peace for the longest time. The horror which derived its power from a far off thing notoriously known by "result day." This same mighty horror was prevalent in the entire school at that very day. 

It was another fine Saturday morning, Sagar entered into the pooja room, where idols of Gods and Goddesses were staring at him from a shelf and a smell of incense and camphor hung in the air. He immediately closed his eyes and murmured some sagacious impressive words to impress all high Lords, opened his eyes a few seconds later, placed his temple religiously in respect on the shelf, and went out hurriedly. Though, Sagar had revised each chapter twice, read every author's 'jeevan prichay', thoroughly, studied the 'bhaavarth' of all the poems, and aptly practiced the essay and letter along with other comprehension writing, but, still he was little tensed. Although, beneath this nervousness and anxiety there sits a silent, yet great excitement -- an utmost relief --  ready to burst out any time. It was the excitement of the end of the many-many  unbearable fatiguing days of studying and revising; it was the excitement of holidays; and it was the excitement of entering a new class and having new books soon.

Only fifteen minutes before the commencement of the exam, Sagar entered the school with unevenly bumping heart. Students were randomly scattered in the corridor, and in classes, some alone while some in groups -- lost in revision, in praying, or laying mass cheat plans the last step of which was to persuade a reliable service provider. Amid this bustle Sagar quickly passed all those folks, greeting them terse "best luck", while dozing every remarks as he feared talking might ruin his preparation at that point. Quietly he slipped into his seat, but not without attracting some attentions who - in worthless hope - glowed at his presence and passed him a pressed smile which he answered smiling back.

Everyone was anxious to know who was going to be their invigilator for the day, because the fate of some species relied largely on that part - the serene and easy-going the teacher the more brazenness they could show while cheating.

The exam bell rang and there entered the history teacher - neck-less and jumpy, his name -- Ajit Pawar aka Luka. Pacing and striding he entered the room and placed half a dozen books, he was carrying, on the table and articulately started, "Dear Students, your exams will start in ten minutes from now. I will pass the answer sheet to you, write your name on right..." and he unnecessarily repeated all the directions, then added rhetorically a warning-cum-hint at last, "If  found anyone making noise or cheating, I will cut ten marks from their score without listening any argument; once done, even Principal will not alter my decision. So be cautious and try to do whatever your work is, very quietly, and let me do mine. Understand."

This neck-less obnoxious cheap salesman like teacher had always had some work to complete.

The exam started at the ding of the bell. At the sight of the heaviest single sheet i.e. question paper, some gave a cracking pensive look, some seemed delighted, some seemed boggled, and rest hopeless, but Sagar troubled not to check, and just started from the very first question.

Quick, frightful and puzzled glances were shared.

In five minutes everyone's pen was racing on their white sheet expect that of Parnav’s who was still confused to decide where to start; he looked around the room and found to his hopelessness everyone lunged on their sheets, anxiously he too started writing.

First hour was very quiet, there was a gloomy silence in the room, one can only listen the disrupt rustle of papers, the scratching noises of pens, and some pressed whispers.

Near the end of the first hour, Chhavvi, the goggled, studious girl stood up and complained of one question being out of taught syllabus. The teacher indifferently told her to sit down and wait till their Hindi teacher would come, then only she would bring her matter to him. But Chhavvi, keep on pleading and persuading the invigilator until the teacher gave up. Irritated, he permitted her to go and inquire upon all her doubts at once, for he would not give any second chance to her. Scurried, she moved around and went out of the room with exam paper in her hand.

For Sagar's delight he had read that chapter and had no problem in attempting that question, so he was wishing for no alteration, as being so would provide him with some marks' advantage, but he was anxious - knowing well how credulous his Hindi teacher was, and how easy it was to persuade him (even rumors were - he had told some important questions to Section A before exam).

Minutes later, Chhavvi came back - delighted - and in the same scurry fashion receded in her seat and quickly resumed her exam. That sight was enough to hint what might had happened. Sagar cursed the teacher and all the girls likewise for such treachery.

Exactly in two hours twenty-eight minutes Sagar completed the exam. He looked around, and found everyone still lunged on their desk immersed in writing. He felt a sudden doubt; he checked, and rechecked, but found every question answered completely. He again glanced through every extent of the room but found nothing new. He thought of revising his answers, but as he reached to third question, he felt terribly bored, every second seemed irritatingly tedious. "What is that everyone taking so long to complete the exam, as the paper worth not a minute than two hours and thirty minute?" he thought, and secretly felt a sense of superiority over others. Just then, he noticed the invigilator scrutinizing his freaking glances with suspicious eyes, he pretended to write at once.

Only ten minutes had passed since then, still nearly twenty tedious minutes to spare, Sagar felt unbearable irritated sitting in that room with that sheet looking at him; he felt an instant surge of getting rid of that sheet. He rose abruptly in style and submitted his answer sheet to that neck-less invigilator. Everyone's attention moved at him the very instant, and Sagar embraced to his delight every bit of their surprising, admiring, and jealous looks while signing off the room. That was the moment of greatest pride for him.

Standing in the corridor, Sagar turned back and looked into the exam room and felt slightly uneasy and sorry. He would have felt more comfortable if one or two boys had given their papers as well; standing alone felt like a huge mistake to him.

Inside the hall, a restless Parnav was uneasily scrutinizing  the whole room with hopeful eyes. Ritik was lost to another world writing his paper. Himanshu, sitting at front seat, was claiming sheets after sheets. Tushar, was gazing at his paper, scratching his chin with the pen. Sanoj was leaning back in his seat revising his answers.

The supervisor was almost drowsing in his chair, but was alert enough of any absurdities or wrongdoings.

Out of thirteen questions, Parnav had answered ten successfully. He was confident on four, doubtful on another four, and, he knew, two of them were completely wrong, but then who knew the right answer. The last question, however, was giving him pain. In that, the moral of a certain story was asked. (A dog who lost his bread on barking at his own reflection.) Parnav had never thought this story contained any moral. But now he felt there must be one since the question paper mentioned it. There was two possible answers that came to his mind. First, ‘We should not bark on our own reflection’; and second, ‘don't go near the water with bread’. He wrote the first one as the latter sounded lame to him. Though, doubt hadn't escaped him completely, the longer he was thinking about it, the more absurd and meaningless the answer appeared to him. He left the answer for the best after adding a remarkably big full stop(purna viram). Now, he was making his move to possibly catch someone's attention and write those remaining answers, especially the fourth one which was of ten marks.

Minutes later Sagar returned to the class, he caught his eyes with that of Sanoj who winked at him; he had completed his paper as well.

 

"Only five minutes are left. So better buckle up your sheets since I will not spare even a second after the bell. Understand!" announced the teacher. This announcement had a tremendous effect on the whole class. Suddenly, the rustling of paper, scratching of pen rose exponentially. Himanshu was turned into a mad writing machine. Ritik, who was unknowingly hanging at the edge of his seat, was suddenly started pacing through the sheets, only two faces were busy in smiling - Sagar and Sanoj. The noises keep on shooting up, in that pandemonium Sagar saw all ominous classmates cheating from one another; he wished all of them to be flogged for that sin, but to his power felt hopeless.

The last bell rang. In twos and threes the boys and girls came out of the hall. The teacher found himself busy in snatching answer sheets from those who had suddenly started getting all the answers from heavens know where?

Outside,  in contrast of the preceding three hours, there was a din of excited chatter. Those who had the confidence that their paper went well were roaring, and those who were doubtful were silently seeping in the mood of the chatter. But everybody was - more or less - in a merrymaking mood.

Some classmates who were standing at a spot -- almost blocking the corridor -- were casually talking about the exams while asking each other their expected performance.

Tushar who was holding his question paper and was busy in writing answers, as he would be crosschecked at home, and he didn't want to feel fool at that moment. Nudging Sagar he said to him, "You know, this old man wrote two pages in fifth question."

"Nonsense! What he wrote in two pages - Ramayan?"

"Who knows? But, how much you wrote?"

"More than half page -- almost one, I think."

"Ya. I wrote that much." Though he wrote only four lines.

 

Saarth the little man, rebellious, and socially enlightened in nature came out of the room and  complained, "Time absolutely was insufficient. I could have dashed off the last question if there was just two more minutes."

Sanoj who seemed to be in one of his rare great swing of mood remarked instantly, "Chhotu, ho gaya tera, Chal ab jake doodh pee le."

"What about this Chhotu, made your already ailing natural angle tilt fifteen degree more?"

A laughter followed cheering Saarth and faintly provoking Sanoj to comment further. But at the very moment came the big man, Parnav, who stole every attention at once. He was confused in capping his pens and gathering all his stationery. He was sweating hard, and was covered with blots of inks from top to bottom; it seemed he had fought the paper and these blots were the casualties.

"How it goes, Parnav?" asked Ritik who caught his presence first.

"What about you, topper?"

"Bhai, barely made to passing marks."

"Oh, shall I insert that google of your in your but, if you happen to cross ninety."

Ankit and company attracted by the gaiety gathering reached there.

"Hey kids, What are you doing?" pointed Ankit.

"These study maniacs are still talking about exams." exclaimed Ujjawal.

"No, sons of my son, we are planning to burn our old books." Himanshu -- the old, the pretender, the glib liar -- snapped, spoiling any further chance of mockery. He Turned to Ritik and added, "Today, at  five in the evening in our backyard. There we will burn them. OK."

Meanwhile, the question paper from hands of Ritik and Tushar were taken away and tore apart in many pieces by Ankit himself, "Now that's the end." he said.

The detective Geography teacher, who was known for his unorthodox, unexpected body moments, and his stupid questions, happened to stand close by, came near to the pack, he was looking more amiable than usual.

"So Parnav, how you are going to waste your days now, before the school will open again?"

"Sir, I am going to sleep and play the whole day." Parnav said winking at others.

"You should improve your head a little by the time you return. So that you can score at least a little better the next time."

"That's not going to happen, unless you chop off Sagar and Ritik's head and affix them to mine somehow."

A great roar of laughter and little encouragement followed this.  

The mood was in such a high gaiety that there would be roars of laughter at anything. As the pack of Parnav and others moved to the end of the corridor there stood the Mathematics teacher, Mr. Neeraj Kumar. He was given the job of distributing the prospectus -- mentioning the fees and other expenses -- to every students. He had that peculiar history of assigning odd jobs.

“Don’t make too much noises and remember to take this paper and bring it to your parents to the earliest,” he was instructing.

“Sir, why sweating so much, just chill down. Exams are over. Consider me, I will buy jalebi  for you and we all will eat them and celebrate our passing of yet another class. What do you say, Sir.” Parnav naughtily fooled around.

“I want to say -- Are you sure you are going to pass the exam?”

“Sir, don’t think down at me. I am as good as that Sagar and Ritik.” said Parnav curtly.

“I have already seen how much equal you are. You better practice Mathematics in those ten days.”

Taking the hint immediately, everyone started inquiring  about their own marks, but the teacher just told that ninety-six is the highest marks.

Most of the students were outside the school now, some waiting for the school bus to fill, some standing with their bicycle, some, who were locals, were standing to give the company to those who were standing, while the rest was confused whether to went straight to home or otherwise.

Two bikes were speeding down the road as if chasing down each other, a student screamed, "Pakkad..". Everyone following the example screamed simultaneously, and in seconds the whole surrounding was echoing with one word, "Pakkad, Pakkad,...". As they went out of the sight everyone hooted as loudly as they could, a wild laughter followed together with pats on the backs and shoulders -- the unrestrained merrymaking was at its wild peak.

Flabbergasted by the sudden violent bustle, PTI came out with a long thin cane in his hand; obscure of the matter, he eyed some of the suspicious laughing lots, presuming everything as normal he went away dragging back into the school.

Final day of the exam was also known for fights. For there was a general belief that enemies used to complete their unfinished businesses of rage and traditional animosity, which they were withholding because of exams, on that very day. So clashing of two Majnu for some Laila, or two stubborn freaks on worthless pride and disrespect, were highly probable events. And such an incident happened at one of the corner of the school when two Majnu started to fight for a Laila. The information reached as fast as the fire in the forest to nearby folks. In seconds, students bundled around the site of the fight, cheering and disgruntling howl started simultaneously. Every punch, or kick were the moment of ecstasy for the crowd. Minutes later, someone yelled, "PTI is coming"; which dispersed the crowd as well as those fool lovers. But everybody know that this wasn't the end of the fight, the fighters must be calling someone standing at some stand, under a tree or in front of a temple or a shop.

Those lazy, frightful folk who bother not to see such an amiable incident with their naked eyes were excited to know the details. They had taken the enlightenment shelter under those who were interested in explaining. But no students was as good in elaborating the elated bliss of all the moves, wrist clashes, punches, hair snatching, and kicking, as Sagar Chauhan -- this man was an innate expert storyteller. Students had gathered around him listening in awe his narration as they were happening in front of them in slow motion -- one punched the nose of the other, but in reaction kicked into the ribs instantly, then came a speeding slap and landed right on the nape with a sound of thud, ah, the public felt the elated sound of the slapping. He was elaborative, detailed, ludicrous in adding some fancy never-happened moments, and was adding similes to make it more magical; the mob including even those who were present during the fight was listening in awe with their mouth wide open, their eyes were glowing with vicarious feeling of watching such a scene. Such was the magic of the Sagar Chauhan.

Slowly, the crowd dispersed, leaving school deserted for next ten days.

In that way, The Last Day of Exam was finally over.   

 

Note- The blog is inspired from real events, but it present no true account of a particular event, or characters.

And thanks everyone for being a part of such an amazing school journey, you are my real heroes.