Sobbing Kid
NCJPS Diaries, Chapter-1
1st Qtr 1981
We were ushered into a room where a smiling aunty in a saree was sitting across the table. She was assisted by two more aunties on her either flank.
“What’s your name? Aapka naam kya hai?” she asked, once I along with my Mummy Daddy settled opposite to her. A bowl full of toffees was gently pushed towards me and I picked up two upon getting a nod from Mummy. After few customary exchanges, more formal questions followed.
“Isse kya kehte hain?” out of many toys kept on table, one was placed right in front of me.
“Tecter! (Tractor)” I exclaimed. I had seen plenty of them at my relatives place, I thought.
“Yeh kya hai?” another toy was thrust forward.
“Sher. Ye aapko khaa jayega!” Not only I had told correct answer but also warned everyone present there for keeping a dangerous toy animal.
Once the laughter died down, aunty asked penultimate question. “How have you come here? Aap yahan kaise aaye?”
“Scooter par.”
“Scooter mein kitne tyre hote hain?” despite knowing the answer I refused to speak up. Her constant queries were irritating. After a nudge from Daddy I replied, “Teen”.
The aunty corrected me by saying, “No, there are only two tyres in a scooter.”
I immediately interjected and told her that it’s actually ‘three’ after counting in the ‘stepney’ or the spare tyre. My father tells me that she was mighty impressed with that reasoning. Another aunty then took over and asked me some rudimentary questions about colors and shapes which I knew by heart.
When we came out, my parents seemed happy with the performance. Though I remember the incident exactly how it happened, it took many more years to understand that it was my admission process to NCJPS, conducted by Mrs. PL Sharma- Headmistress of the school.
I had another brush with Mrs. PL Sharma later in higher classes, which was not as pleasant as that of admission day. In times to come, I will devote a separate chapter describing her appalling personality.
Apr 1981
I was dressed up and packed out to ‘Nursery A’. It’s silly to mention but I have a rare distinction of completing entire 14 years of schooling from ‘Nur’ to 12th by retaining ‘A’ section. I share this feat with Aashish Bhatia and Charu Khurana.
First day was nightmare. Mummy dropped me in the company of many sobbing kids and vanished. I looked around the classroom and was pleased with the surroundings. The room was bright with ample sunlight. On the front left corner was a tall inbuilt almirah to keep the charts, duster and chalk boxes. Teachers’ table was tucked right next to almirah and a chair with canned seat placed beside it. A huge wooden cupboard with glass panes occupied the other end of class. Kids desks had been shifted on to one side so as to make ample space in the center were a mat or ‘durree’ was laid out. We all toddlers sat cross-legged on the mat with bags and water bottles arranged in a corner by ‘Aayah’. The room had two doors - one main entrance and other at the rear, opening into kindergarten playing area. On the outside, toilets were situated just next to the class and water room across the corridor.
49 tiny tots came together for the first time in that class of 1981–82. Little did they knew, few among them will again cherish these moments four decades later.
Our class teacher, Bharti ma’am was a simple lady. She must have had a harrowing time in managing so many crying first timers. Although nervous, I managed to keep composure untill I got a glimpse of Mummy going across the door. I shouted out for her while making a dash towards the door. Bharti ma’am restrained me mid way and tried to fool me by saying that it wasn’t my mother. Her cajoling lead to a burst of cries. It took quite a while for loud cries to turn into inconsolable sobs. There was a boy right next to me. He seemed confident and was sitting nonchalantly all by himself while this commotion was going around. His name was Varun Goswami. Desperate to find solace somewhere, I asked him “Mummy kab aayengi?” With a sulking face he told me not to worry and showed his plastic toy watch, which was worth 50paisa during those days. He explained that once the pink arm of watch reaches a particular point we all will have our parents back. That trick worked well to some extent. But a new problem arose - the arm didn’t move at all as we both sat there checking it constantly.
After certain time, Mummy along with few other waiting parents appeared in the class. I didn’t even notice her arrival because my complete focus was on the arm of plastic watch. On our way out, Mummy asked me to say goodbye to ma’am, which I refused as I was ‘katti’ with her for having lied to me. On reaching home, Mummy confirmed her passing through the corridor which had caught my attention. I decided not to do ‘abba’ with Bharti ma’am ever again.
Second day was more nightmarish than the previous one. Now it was known that Mummy is going to leave me with strangers. And on top of that, Bharti ma’am neither said sorry for yesterday’s lie nor tried to get ‘abba’ again. Plus Varun had not worn the watch, apparently his parents were told by teacher not to send fancy stuff in the school. Given the situation, I too joined the howling chorus with rest of kids. Sobs subsided in a week and perhaps it took another week for me to finally accept the reality and start mixing around.
My earliest friends in Nur ‘A’ were Varun Goswami and Ajay Khurana. We used to chat a lot. Then there was a sweet girl named Pooja Sharma. I never had any interaction with her. One day she came with a white bandage across the bridge of her nose. I instinctively got up, went to her and asked “chot lag gayi?” She responded with a “haa”. And that brought me to tears. The medical dressing was off in I think 2–3 days, but somehow that sight of her with cotton and bandage on nose could never leave me.
Well, those initial days of school are still as fresh as it had happened yesterday, photographically etched forever.
