SSLC - 1983

The rain wasn’t stopping. And I wished it wouldn’t. I stared at the little pool of water forming under the young coconut tree. Soon it would rain more, said the depressed clouds. My thoughts ran away to the black boards being displayed at my school premises. The black board was supposedly the one which decided a chap’s student life. Something in my mind said I was not in the list of passed few. SSLC exams were cruel enough to give a full stop to your education. You pass, that’s college life for you and if you fail, help your father in his fields and that’s the last thing in this world I wanted to do. Once in college, the pre-degree starts and I can join political parties and throw stones at the buses that didn’t stop at our stops. Now if I fail I’ll have to receive the attacks from all the human beings in the village. Chayakaran (the tea-guy) Damu will ask,”What class were you in?” very well knowing that I bombed my tenth standards.

I would give him a reply, “Tenth, SSLC failed”

Then Damu will have his hearty laugh showing his stained teeth, happy at what he had heard and will be content for rest of the day.

The rain stopped for a while, but the black clouds were reluctant to leave the sky. Amma came from nowhere and shouted at me, “Why, you idiot! Can’t you just go to your school and find out your results. How long will you stay idle like this?”

Following her orders I set out to check my results which I knew better than anyone. I walked through the flooded muddy road and wished a snake bite me. Then my mind and thoughts went 2 months back

My brother-in-law had bought a tape recorder from Dubai during his last visit. The first of its kind in the village. The tape-recorder looked too complicated for everyone at my house and somehow I had learned its operations quickly. The insertions of the cassettes, the way they should be re-winded, forwarded, stopped, the red and grey buttons were all too scary to touch for my sisters. So I became the one eligible to keep it. The hi-fi gadget at once became my private property. Kishore Kumar’s ‘Roop tera mastana’ and Yesudas’s ‘sagarangale’ were all over the house.

“You fool, stop that thing and learn something for your exams.” My mother would shout and I wouldn’t give an ear. Then she threatens me, “If you don’t stop it, I’ll throw that wretched thing in to the river.” I know she would dare touch that ‘machine’ which ran on electricity so I allowed her to bark.

One day when Kishore da was singing “pal pal dil ke pass”, I noticed some red spots being developed in my fore arms. “A clear case of chicken pox”, said one of my sisters like an expert in finding out diseases and advised everyone to keep away from me. My elder brother wanted to take me to the doctor but my father went against it. “Ha! No one goes to the doctor for a mere chickenpox, take two weeks rest and it will recede slowly.”

“What about his SSLC exams to come this week?” asked my brother.

“Do you think he can write exams with these bubbles all over his body? Now shut your traps and mind your own business.”

Two weeks rest and no SSLC exam. I might have been the happiest guy on earth. I was given a special room upstairs with all the songs I can hear from my tape-recorder. Only my sister was allowed to visit this room since she had already been infected with this divine disease. But I loathed her presence in the room. Most of the time she wants to hear the music she likes and sings along with them. This gives me a huge headache. Two days and twenty dozen songs later I checked my red spots, neither did it develop anywhere in my body nor did it recede. It was the same what I saw two days back. This time my brother won the battle of words with my father. I was taken to the doctor. My brothers sudden shower of love for my health was revealed when I saw the young gorgeous lady doc. She looked at my red spots and said, “This is not any chickenpox, its jus an insect bite. Just apply some tulsi and then it will vanish.”

“Does that mean I’ll have to write my exams?” I asked.

“Yes of course. Then, what were you doing all these days young man?”

I was broken. The exams were just days away and all I have learnt was nothing.

The tape-recorder was removed from my table and the books replaced it and then the books got replaced by my sleeping head. And on a bright sunny morning the exams came perturbing my sleep.

My stomach churned when I saw my father in the paddy fields. He was cursing the bad weather and showed his anger on the women plowing the fields. I escaped his sight and took the longer route to the school. The school was not much crowded as I expected. The black board notice was placed right at the middle of the corridor. I ran my finger through the list of the candidates who made it. Staring at me was Riyaz. Riyaz was grinning and I asked him what the matter was.

“We are in the same category. Better luck next time, Krishnan.”

He wasn’t able to stop his smile at this comedy.

“Great! Same to you.” I said and gave a pat on his shoulder.

A much tensed looking Vinu then appeared near the board. He gave a sigh of relief when he spotted his name. “Thank God, Krishnan. This is the third time I’m writing and I’ve passed this time. My father will be proud.” Said Vinu. Vinu’s father was our Malayalam teacher and every year on this occasion, he goes all white with embarrassment. He was even thinking of resigning his job because of his failed son. But now he should be a proud father, his son has made it through after all. Vinu understood my results through my grim face and comforted me giving advices from his own experiences.

I walked away from the school and kicked myself for spending too much time hearing songs. On the way back I saw father in his field. This time I couldn’t escape his sight. From about 200m away he shouted.

“What is your result?”

“I failed” I cried out to him.

“What? Louder”

“I said, I failed!” I gave him the reply so loud that the women plowing the field started gaping at me.

Father didn’t tell anything for a while and then asked loudly, “What about Vadakkeparambu Kanaran’s son Gopalan, did he pass?”

“Yes he passed” I replied.

“pthuu!”A splash of spit came from his mouth and started scolding me. “You son of a dog, useless idiot…” Gopalan was from a lower caste and this was insulting for my father. But before he could fill any more filth in my ears I shouted out, “Raman Adiyodi’s son Vishnu also failed, father” Now this was great news and he was relieved and went back to scolding his workers on the field.

Back home my mother at my sight came running to the footsteps and asked, “pass or fail”

“Fail”, I said. Numbly she returned to the place she came from.

I sat on my fathers long king size wooden chair. Enjoying its comfort I let my thoughts wander. I slept off after a while and was woken up by my friend Sunil.

“Da Krishna! Get up. Come let’s go to the school, I wanted to check my results.” Said Sunil and dragged me from the chair.

“It’s already dark and its raining too” I protested.

“That’s okay, I’ve got an umbrella”

And before I could say anything I was in the rain sharing umbrella with Sunil going back to the school again.

The school was deserted and the black board list was kept in the corner of the hallway. Sunil lead me to some classes and finally found out the list of meritorious student’s list. Sunil, unlike me was good in studies and his hard work was evident from the list of students who got distinctions. This list was written quite neatly and had 3 names on it. Sunil read out the names, “Susanna Mariam 85%, Sushamma P, 84.5%, Sunil K, 81.2%, oh! As always girls on the top” said Sunil and winked at me. I smiled. Then the sight of another piece of paper caught my attention. My legs started trembling, my hands were shaking and the world around me had stopped moving. I was looking at the students list who got a first class in SSLC.

“N. Raja Krishnan 63.6% - First class”, Sunil read out my name and result from the list.