COMRADES AND CLASSMATES
The Board exams in India are a rite of passage. They are long-drawn pseudo-ceremonial processes of initiation; as much a personal or even family affair as a community affair.
The board exams are the “Ah…” moments at get-togethers; mention of a family member or friend’s imminent Boards are effective ice-breakers. First, there is a thorough discussion of the pattern, portion and latest news about the government’s latest rules and regulations about it. Thence follows the barrage of unsolicited advice, the war stories, the glorious successes... The shameful failures remain unspoken, and to fill the awkward silence that ensues, the topic of stress, pressure, trauma etc are touched upon.
But that is not all. At re-reunions, there is yet more left to be discussed about the Boards. The student in the host family is subject to intense humiliation at the hands of his/her own parents (Et tu, Brute?) and stands there, hands in ever-shrinking pant-pockets, head hung low with shame and unspoken anger.
The silver lining on the dark, gloomy, enormous, life-sucking cloud? The people who are going through the Boards with you.
Strangers meet and become friends, life-long bonds are formed between classmates (comrades), moral support is derived and lent by the simple sight of a uniform; a hall-ticket; a reassuring smile. Random parents shake your hand and pat your back, respectively, when you enter and exit the Exam Centre. An army of sunglass-and-handbag-wearing mothers, waiting for your classmates, smile warmly, treat you as their own and ask you questions.
The people at war, fighting their own battles just as you are, pens raised high, writing pads held up as shields, all sweat and carbohydrates and acne and bad hair – those are the people that almost make it all worth it.
But that is not all. At re-reunions, there is yet more left to be discussed about the Boards. The student in the host family is subject to intense humiliation at the hands of his/her own parents (Et tu, Brute?) and stands there, hands in ever-shrinking pant-pockets, head hung low with shame and unspoken anger.
The silver lining on the dark, gloomy, enormous, life-sucking cloud? The people who are going through the Boards with you.
Strangers meet and become friends, life-long bonds are formed between classmates (comrades), moral support is derived and lent by the simple sight of a uniform; a hall-ticket; a reassuring smile. Random parents shake your hand and pat your back, respectively, when you enter and exit the Exam Centre. An army of sunglass-and-handbag-wearing mothers, waiting for your classmates, smile warmly, treat you as their own and ask you questions.
The people at war, fighting their own battles just as you are, pens raised high, writing pads held up as shields, all sweat and carbohydrates and acne and bad hair – those are the people that almost make it all worth it.
Comments
Post a Comment