~ Alpana Kishore
In Class 9, ‘C’ section was memorably called “You Bustards!!” by our honourable Mathematics Teacher
If you think he was talking about that near extinct wild species that birdwatchers are so concerned about – the Great Indian Bustard, you are totally wrong. He was referring that other wild species... Those with dubious parents who indulged in illegal hanky panky before their wedding vows, defied social norms, brought shame to their families.... in short - those who collectively produced our Bustard C Section.
There were many triggers to that name calling morning. A group of giggly, immensely annoying girls outside the class wire mesh window overlooking the MAC Block were waving and gesturing to the ones inside to come out. Others came right up to pursue the dialogue at the window. Boys flew paper planes, caught up on the gossip, or looked blankly at the ceiling - while MT (Maths Teacher of course – what did you think??) bust his gut trying to explain the Theorum of Infinite Expansion or Quantum mumbo jumbo – that absolutely no one except Shikhar Sareen, Manoj or Yogesh Aggarwal had any interest in.
At the hundredth such episode, bechara MT lost his marbles - to put it politely - tore his hair in an enraged frenzy and snarled those immortal words “You are all Bustards!!”
Aditya Seth raised a voice of protest in defence of our collective parents’ good reputations. “Sir, you can’t abuse our parents Sir. Sir my parents were married before I was born Sir. Sir you are saying our mothers had loose characters Sir – Sir this is not done...Sir I will complain Sir.” A chorus of “Sir, Sir....” followed him reaching a baying crescendo that finally tipped MT over the edge. His edgy voice screamed with the uncaring hysteria of a person who has finally decided he cannot suppress his true emotions anymore.
“You BUSTARDS, You Bloody BUSTARDS!! BLOODY Get out of my class – AT ONCE!!
Reports say the poor soul remained pale faced and traumatised whenever he had to endure the mafia of C section in later times. Meanwhile ruthless as usual, they carried on with the paper planes, the gossip and the giggles.
I often wonder if my children have succeeded in driving any teacher that crazy. And why I’m contradictorily, a little proud of my ability to have done so – to not one but many.
Like MC Aggarwal who told us all after he found me painting Jaseline’s nails in Lakme’s Pink Fantasy in his Chemistry class just after we had finished singing “Why....MCA??” from the back benches; “Tum kyon aate ho? Jao, please jao. I beg you” ....... or like Mrs Murti who was given a history test paper by a girl (me) who flipped her long hair over her face and put on her glasses over her hair (don’t ask why)and who looked stupefied by the sheer creativity of C Section’s efforts to keep class interesting. .....Or like Bandar (I forget his real name) for whose class Deepu specially kept an egg in her drawer for a month under instruction and threw it on the blackboard just when he was writing complex equations, splashing him with incredibly smelly egg yolk so that the whole class rushed out (except Shikhar who looked resignedly at his bad luck in being a member of this doltish and dufferish class) ‘gasping’ and ‘choking’, complaining about “poison gas”.
“H2S Sir, its H2S!! We can’t breathe Sir”
At which point D section next door – on pre arranged signal – also rushed out and emptied their class making loud and gross vomiting sounds (Kamia, Jyotika et al – JJD were you there??) .
Yet to come back to my children – and the legacy I am passing on to them – why am I proud of this insane and demented behaviour? Why am I secretly quite pleased that I was a premier Bad Girl, a trophy C Sectioner with my partners in crime especially Aditi (since Class P-5C when we discovered the heady, destructive power of Being Bad along with Aditya Seth and Sandeep Srinivasan by wrecking eight chairs in our empty class by jumping on (and through) them. We also ripped the charts on the wall and took turns to ride the metal trolley and ‘crash’ the walls leaving big holes in the plaster – at age 10 for God’s Sakes!!! - while our farewell Junior School Assembly was being held downstairs by Mrs Sachdeva) - and later Kamia, Ritika, Jaseline, Hans, Kamal, Paras, Bipasha, Vandana, Rajiv, Anupam, Neeraj, Gaurav, Dhanno, Harsh, Dicky, Yogesh Chaudhry and so many obliging others.
Come to think of it, how did all the unfettered, badmaash and wild spirits collectively get assigned C Section?
Even our resident topper Ranjan Bhagat was involved in every misdemeanour. How did we all think alike – that any diversion in class was immensely better than studying a single paragraph and almost any dare was worth taking to create that diversion?
Would I actually prefer that my reasonably good children (their efforts at being ‘Bad’ like their mother are so far, not even close to the Real Thing!!) be like me? Behaving in a way that would have got them suspended (Yes, we managed the pink telegrams too – 3 weeks before the Boards), expelled, hauled up by the Principal, raked over the coals etc. Or become like me in school - rebellious, disobedient, constantly brushing against authority, bunking most classes, going on field trips to Connaught Place and Chanakya and studying only outside school hours so that most of us had Board results we’d run to hide from our children?
I don’t know how to answer that question because a part of me so insistently says Yes! I would prefer it!!
C Section taught us to gamble with life, to take the initiative and run with it, to push at life’s limits constantly, to be courageous and to think on our feet when confronted with powerful obstacles.
Like the incident in Class 9 - running on the railway tracks behind Bengali market with CKC pounding behind us, giving thrilling chase; betting on the fact that he hadn’t seen our faces and wouldn’t be able to identify us. Making it back finally to school, exhausted and triumphant only to face Khazan Singh at the gate who identified us instead!! Spinning yarns to Baweja to explain why we were “loitering” outside when Khazan Singh reported us. Convincing him (in front of Khazan Singh) that Khazan Singh was actually remembering some other bad girls who had left the school building - as we were innocently watching a basketball match and our friends could vouch for it ... (of course they did – and of course poor Khazan Singh finally admitted confusedly at the end of a marathon, convoluted bullshitting session that “Yes!” it had been those wretched other girls who were the real culprits!!)
C Section taught us to be street smart, to think out of the box, to understand a world outside the school books, to look upon ‘boy’ friends and ‘girl’ friends as equals – (Can’t recall any romances BTW inside C Section - we were too busy being buddies in crime), to have a sense of cheerfulness, irreverence and wickedness (Khanni’s class where Aditya brought in his bongo drums and had full and noisy band sessions while Khanni taught English Literature to three people in the front row) – and to even acquire a rakish charm that comes from gleeful villainy against authority figures and pompous folk. In short C Section taught us whatever we would never learn at any Business School.
It also taught us to keep cool during the tough times, to take the punishments in our stride and bounce back for some new action. Mrs Sachdeva’s prim horror “Two girls being so destructive?? I am shocked!!” after the four 10 year old culprits were identified as the chair bashers and made to stand in the assembly for one week; Phoolan’s well aimed slaps that Aditi always had to endure even when I had done the bad deeds, the whack on the palms when some white pant & shirt clad teacher had been drenched in ink from well aimed pens, the three week suspension in Class Ten after the patakas in class that left us desperately short of notes, course work and guidance at just the time we needed it.... the punishments were as frequent as the offences..
Oh yes - nothing comes free in life!! We paid up - well and good - for our reckless delights. But then there are some things that are simply worth having even if you know you have to pay through your nose for them later! Not a single person squealed on the pataka thrower, not one complained about the suspension before the 10th Boards! Instead we celebrated with Hot Chocolate Fudge at Nirulas’ at 11:30 am that morning after walking legally out of school through the front gate!
Did we overdo it? Did we lose all sense of ethics or balance in all this alternative ‘learning’ we acquired, did we overlook the really important things in life - like goals, achievements and hard work? Hardly. No one erred on the wrong side of sex, drugs, violence or crime. Just the good old fashioned thrills of living life on the edge, sliding past closing doors, taking on authority; and just the enjoyment of the camaraderie and bonding - even though many of us came from such disparate backgrounds.
In fact - despite our sucky 10th Board results - most of us became fine parents and successful people (Hey - Aditi my best friend from E-1 – the smart chick who smashed a glass window in S-2C with her bare hands to get us both out of maths class (and BTW, needed eight stitches after that) - is Creative Director in her big shot company – Woo Hoo!!). And even if I say so myself, we became good people – who learned to judge others on things other than appearance.
Many years later when I was a junior reporter in a feature newsmagazine, our competitors landed a sensational scoop. We desperately needed an equally juicy counter scoop. I was packed off to Kashmir for an impossible task that no one really believed I could accomplish, least of all myself - to interview a high profile hostage who had recently been kidnapped - while he was still in militant custody and being searched for by the entire Army and paramilitary forces of the state.
I located a shady double agent contact who agreed to help me after endless tricky negotiations and filmy style ‘secret’ meetings. After a harrowing ride in ‘their’ vehicles (they insisted I leave mine behind and it’s difficult to argue with an AK 47...) we met the hostage in a hideout in deep, downtown Srinagar. We interviewed him and smilingly ate kebabs with our well armed hosts who had grenades slung around their chests. Within three hours we had sneaked back to our hotel through the back gullies with the precious tape in our hands.
And – Oh!! BTW. We blew off the competition that issue. Sweet satisfaction! I mention the episode here because pulling off the job needed rare, expert and specialised skills that very few journalism graduates have. I had them. What were they? Gambling, Bluffing and Bullshitting!
But then when you’ve earned your graduating stripes from C Section – everything’s possible! Thank you guys - for the buzz, the adventure and the incredible fun ..... It was so worth it all!!!
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