A Reminiscence
My earliest memories of fear, loathing and hatred are all associated with one institution – school – that temple of knowledge and learning, that haven of all that is safe and secure, that custodian of millions of happy childhood memories, that place where you make the best of friendships and the most harmless of enemies, the place everyone wants to go back to and nobody can - I hated it.
When it came to avoiding school I was as wily as any kid could be. My weekends were spent on chalking out elaborate plans to avoid school, one of which even included causing mortal harm to a particular individual, whose name now escapes my memory. Thinking back, I find the reason for the plans failing to be very trivial – I had no transport. My bike was crashed by this particular individual. I was naïve enough back then to believe in God and I used to pray for suitable weather every night. Torrential rainfall and tropical cyclones were always on the agenda. But with time it gradually dawned upon me that conspiring with God is seldom fruitful.
The most disastrous of all plans was the one where I used to avoid my homework and go into fits a few minutes before school begging and pleading my mother to let me stay home, trying to move her cold heart by conjuring images of me being caned by a ruthless monster of a teacher. It never worked; I got caned more often than once before finally writing of my dear mother, the only creative member of our aesthetically challenged family as an unimaginative person and deciding to get whacked hard enough to get a bruise as proof of my truthfulness. But alas the teachers, I later learnt, through years of dedicated industry had become adept at the art of inflicting invisible injuries.
I have succeeded at many of the enterprises that I took up as a boy and this one was to be no different. My most successful plan involved the greatest excuse of all time – sickness. It was a few days before I accepted that there is no way I could increase my body temperature, even hot showers failed in pushing the mercury up (btw a few days ago a friend of mine with a wealth of traditional knowledge and interests bordering on witchcraft offered me a piece of extremely delayed advice which has rekindled some childhood memories and sparked this post. She suggested putting a slice of onion under an armpit for day as a remedy for chronic good health – highly debatable, nevertheless worthy of a try). Finally, I came up with a plan only the ingenuity of a twelve year old could formulate – simple, painless, elegant, flawless and easily implemented. All I had to do was wake up in the morning and decide whether school was a good idea for the day or not. Once I concluded that I it was not which most often was the case, all I had to do was pay frequent visits to the loo and claim that I had a bad stomach. May be it was not so elegant however unlike a stomach ache or any other ache it did not involve ceaseless enactment of the symptoms. Unlike the claim of a fever this one could not be validated unless an unacceptable invasion of bathroom privacy occurs which again is easily prevented with the aid of the greatest security tool of all time - the lock. Thus I reigned supreme for more than a year avoiding school as often as possible without raising suspicions over my veracity or concern over my health. It was not easy. Convincing my mother was never easy. She can spot a spy’s lie from a mile away. A kid’s was nothing. Sometimes I had to turn to my dad to hear those sweet words “okay, you can stay at home today”. My father would say it differently - he’d smile (in retrospect I realize that it was no ordinary smile, it was a knowing one) and say “Of course you can skip school” and I’d be so elated that I’d find it hard to maintain my “I am not feeling good” body language.
There was one more problem; I used to get bored in the loo. Finally, with the proliferation of cable TV to our small town I discovered that reading is an activity that can be pursued during my long and lonely sojourns in the bathroom. Comics and Gastro Intestinal diseases became the best of my friends during those days.
So on and so forth the days passed until I got to class X. Doing well in class X was important, I was told. By then, I was vigorously pursuing a newly discovered activity in the loo, mentioning which would be inappropriate here; and the prospect of skipping school was becoming increasingly attractive. I was spending more and more time with my textbooks and lesser and lesser time on the playground. I was nearing my breaking point. I was desperately waiting for my voice to turn masculine so that I could call a bomb hoax at school. Winter came and with it a blessing in disguise… throat irritation. It was bad but not severe. I played my cards well and the doctor suggested that I should take a rest. Back then father was working in a small and laid back town about five hours away. I took a couple of weeks off from school and joined him there. It was bliss. As the days melted away in tagging along with dad on his camps and playing volley ball and badminton with him and his staff little did I know that I was having one of the best times of my life.
Yesterday I was practicing dad’s knowing smile in my bathroom mirror and I should say I got pretty close. Some day I’ll have a kid and I am pretty sure that the poor fellow would be dying to see that smile on my face every Monday morning.
When it came to avoiding school I was as wily as any kid could be. My weekends were spent on chalking out elaborate plans to avoid school, one of which even included causing mortal harm to a particular individual, whose name now escapes my memory. Thinking back, I find the reason for the plans failing to be very trivial – I had no transport. My bike was crashed by this particular individual. I was naïve enough back then to believe in God and I used to pray for suitable weather every night. Torrential rainfall and tropical cyclones were always on the agenda. But with time it gradually dawned upon me that conspiring with God is seldom fruitful.
The most disastrous of all plans was the one where I used to avoid my homework and go into fits a few minutes before school begging and pleading my mother to let me stay home, trying to move her cold heart by conjuring images of me being caned by a ruthless monster of a teacher. It never worked; I got caned more often than once before finally writing of my dear mother, the only creative member of our aesthetically challenged family as an unimaginative person and deciding to get whacked hard enough to get a bruise as proof of my truthfulness. But alas the teachers, I later learnt, through years of dedicated industry had become adept at the art of inflicting invisible injuries.
I have succeeded at many of the enterprises that I took up as a boy and this one was to be no different. My most successful plan involved the greatest excuse of all time – sickness. It was a few days before I accepted that there is no way I could increase my body temperature, even hot showers failed in pushing the mercury up (btw a few days ago a friend of mine with a wealth of traditional knowledge and interests bordering on witchcraft offered me a piece of extremely delayed advice which has rekindled some childhood memories and sparked this post. She suggested putting a slice of onion under an armpit for day as a remedy for chronic good health – highly debatable, nevertheless worthy of a try). Finally, I came up with a plan only the ingenuity of a twelve year old could formulate – simple, painless, elegant, flawless and easily implemented. All I had to do was wake up in the morning and decide whether school was a good idea for the day or not. Once I concluded that I it was not which most often was the case, all I had to do was pay frequent visits to the loo and claim that I had a bad stomach. May be it was not so elegant however unlike a stomach ache or any other ache it did not involve ceaseless enactment of the symptoms. Unlike the claim of a fever this one could not be validated unless an unacceptable invasion of bathroom privacy occurs which again is easily prevented with the aid of the greatest security tool of all time - the lock. Thus I reigned supreme for more than a year avoiding school as often as possible without raising suspicions over my veracity or concern over my health. It was not easy. Convincing my mother was never easy. She can spot a spy’s lie from a mile away. A kid’s was nothing. Sometimes I had to turn to my dad to hear those sweet words “okay, you can stay at home today”. My father would say it differently - he’d smile (in retrospect I realize that it was no ordinary smile, it was a knowing one) and say “Of course you can skip school” and I’d be so elated that I’d find it hard to maintain my “I am not feeling good” body language.
There was one more problem; I used to get bored in the loo. Finally, with the proliferation of cable TV to our small town I discovered that reading is an activity that can be pursued during my long and lonely sojourns in the bathroom. Comics and Gastro Intestinal diseases became the best of my friends during those days.
So on and so forth the days passed until I got to class X. Doing well in class X was important, I was told. By then, I was vigorously pursuing a newly discovered activity in the loo, mentioning which would be inappropriate here; and the prospect of skipping school was becoming increasingly attractive. I was spending more and more time with my textbooks and lesser and lesser time on the playground. I was nearing my breaking point. I was desperately waiting for my voice to turn masculine so that I could call a bomb hoax at school. Winter came and with it a blessing in disguise… throat irritation. It was bad but not severe. I played my cards well and the doctor suggested that I should take a rest. Back then father was working in a small and laid back town about five hours away. I took a couple of weeks off from school and joined him there. It was bliss. As the days melted away in tagging along with dad on his camps and playing volley ball and badminton with him and his staff little did I know that I was having one of the best times of my life.
Yesterday I was practicing dad’s knowing smile in my bathroom mirror and I should say I got pretty close. Some day I’ll have a kid and I am pretty sure that the poor fellow would be dying to see that smile on my face every Monday morning.
I sincerely hope I was as smart as you during my childhood; could have saved myself from a lot trouble :P
Dudde, you blog rocks! The humour is too good. It's been a long time since I read such a free flowing and refreshing blog.
Keep rocking..
cheers!!
-cp
Posted by
Anonymous |
6:51 am, February 26, 2006
Ur post rekindles the desire to migrate back in time n may be reapply the old strategies with a newer perspective n of course a new i-m-sick-no-school repertoire.
Posted by
Saurabh Thakur |
1:35 pm, February 27, 2006
Thanks for the comments! Hope you had a good time reading the posts.
yours
Posted by
m8al |
1:46 am, March 09, 2006