As we entered into the last week before the
Mid-Year Examination, the students suggested we revise story writing towards
the end of a Question-Answer Session on The Secret Life of Walter Mitty by
James Thurber. As I was coming out of
the class, quite satisfied and saturated, I heard Dechen Dorji utter something
like: Sir, if I do not feel like writing a story, who can force me ……?
Naturally when I started preparing for them at
home that night, I knew that inordero to keep their interest in writing the story
going; I had to do something different. So, instead of asking them to work in
groups for a group story like they were made to do last year, I decided to ask
them to write their stories individually with the concluding lines of the story
given. It was not as easy as it seemed – the lines had to be interesting. After a while
the following is what I asked them to do. I decided to ask them to write a
story of about 350-400 words, employing most of the features of a short story
within the given time limit of 40-45 minutes. The concluding lines should read:
Then a gust of wind swept through the open window and
scattered the precious pearls here and there. I scampered after the letters,
picked them up and put them back in the box. Exhausted, I sat on the edge of
the bed. Then they came, the salty, silent tears coursing down my cheeks. The
tears of regret and separation.
I would like to reproduce some of the top-class
stories my class wrote. But right now I would like to share with you, Reader,
another story that I penned myself after having assigned the students of XII Sc
‘A’ with a similar kind of task on the topic stated above, a couple of years back. The difference being the students then were given the theme to begin their stories with. I hit upon the title of the story only later on.
The Whack
It was right after the Mid-term Break, I was
giving the papers back to the class, when I found Sagar's answer-script on top
of the pile. All my joviality was gone in a minute. This boy was getting into
my nerves. He works like a donkey day in and day out, but the result is palpably
the same, without the least bit of improvement whatsoever.
I picked up his paper with: I don't see much hope for you.
You're as bad in Spelling as you are in grammar....written in red at the top. I then called out his name. He came out to my
table from his seat in the first row laboriously and hesitantly.
All my threats and warnings seemed to have fallen
on deaf ears and had no effect on him so far. “ If you can't write two
sentences correctly together and get the pass marks in English in the school
exam, how can you get through the Board Exam?
" I've been working very hard on my English, Sir.
Believe me; I'm very surprised with the marks. I's expecting
better........," Sagar fumbled out a meek response.
I don't know why I had reached the end of my
tether that day and unfortunately, he had to be the one at the receiving end of
all my anger and fury. “What do you mean?" I cut him short as I was fast losing my cool. "Do you mean to say that I'm
responsible for your pathetic performance in English?" I whacked him hard across the
face before he had the time to stammer out a feeble reply. Slowly and unbelievingly he dragged
his feet back to his seat, his face looking like the crimson sun at sun-down.
Sagar must have been working hard and secured
nearly 50 percent in English in the trial.. Towards the end of the academic
year, I came to learn so much about his hard-working nature and never- say-die
attitude. In the meeting for selecting the winners of the various awards and
prizes for the Annual Prize Day, his name came up frequently. The general
consensus was that he deserved to be The
Most Improved Student of our school.
Time marched on and his memory gradually became a
blur, I did not even bother to look at his percentage when the BCSEA result for
Higher Secondary Education was declared. On a Saturday, I was in our
department, when there was a gentle knock on the door." Come in. “ I chimed out in between sips of a hot cup of steaming tea. " Way, Sagar.....aren't you?
Good to see you. Here for the TC, I guess?
The self-assured, ever so decent and polite young
man nodded his head politely." By the way, what are you doing now? Could
you....Did you get through the Board Exam? I sincerely hope you haven't become one
of those good for nothings …”
“I have qualified for a scholarship, Sir. I will be leaving for the MBBS Course in
Thailand shortly. And thank you very much, Sir, for your guidance and support….
We shook hands and after a few more minutes of
pleasantries, he left me nostalgically happy.
I was gulping down a big chunk of the Cadbury’s he so respectfully had
offered to me earlier, when Madam Anju cut in, “Did you teach him last year,
Sir? The boy is a marvel, you know. He
has made us all very proud by being the English topper in the school last
year.....
I nearly choked on what I had in my mouth as I
felt a hard whack on my face. I'd never underestimated the power of a hardy, determined
and impeccably decent student since then.
