The Competition

It was barely early summer. Mr. Saha always thought that the education system in the country had become a farce. The summer vacation came as planned by the ‘academic’ calendar at the beginning of the year, irrespective of the cruelty meted out by the bright star light years away. And when it was time for schools to reopen, the sun was too strong that the government had to order them to shut down again. The erratic behavior of nature should hardly dictate the academic calendar, argued the officials in the education ministry. Irony was- it somehow did.

Almost every year, the two months of vacation had to be extended by another two weeks. Kids were happy. So were the teachers. Discontent showed only on the faces of the parents. Saha, for example, wanted his son Bimal to go to school simply because school would discipline him. Bimal was shy and introvert, disciplined and courteous. Saha, however, was never at ease, having seen multiple times on his way back from office, his son’s friends furtively puff cigarette at the paan shop near the school. Thirteen isn’t the best age for this, pondered Saha, himself a heavy smoker.

To put to productive use the long vacation that never seemed to end, Saha decided that he would arrange a competition for Bimal and his friends. Outdoor games weren’t an option. Snakes and ladders weren’t exactly for thirteen-year olds. Ah, how about chess? Saha went to speak to other parents.

History teacher Mukherjee vehemently agreed, “Nice idea, Mr. Saha. Chess originated in India…” He went on with a boring lecture on the history of chess.

Sarkar seemed uninterested. To Mukherjee’s embarrassment, he quipped in, “Is that why my son finds history so boring?” Others broke into a fit of laughter. He also added, “Not everyone might find chess interesting. My son Bikas likes football. I’m sure he will not like it. He will lose matches and quit. Our purpose is thus defeated.”

Dutta was listening intently. While everyone was debating, he hadn’t said a word. But now, while everyone else was trying to think of an alternative, he took a loud sip from his cup and then spoke up.

“Wonderful tea, Mukherjee babu. Do you know about the origin of tea?"

Mukherjee was sweating. Everyone else looked confused.

Dutta continued, "How about a quiz contest?”

Dutta explained, “Everyone will find it exciting. You can have questions on sports, Sarkar babu. And history too, Mukherjee babu. Films, geography, physics, current affairs and what not!”

The idea hadn’t struck anyone before. The word “competition” somehow always managed to conjure an image of some kind of ‘sport’. Quiz was never considered a sport. Now that Dutta’s proposal had gotten everyone into thinking about the merits of the ‘game’, Mukherjee nodded in soft approval, “Yeah, everyone would learn in the process.”

Dutta carried the discussion forward. “You like sports, you read about it out of interest. I am a movie-buff. I go straight to the movie section, first thing in the morning. But I don’t know about sports or science. How do I learn it? Barter system! Old school, yet very effective.”

He continued after another sip, “In quiz, you just cannot sit with your ears shut. Even if you’re into history, and the question is on politics, you’ll listen to the answers of other teams, discuss with others in your team to get the right answer. Guess it, at least. Even if you remember half the answers, it serves more than our purpose!”

The next week went into grouping the kids into teams of four- each with as far as possible, interests in a different area! The date of the event was fixed one month away from the formation of the group. Saha and Dutta took keen interest in bringing the kids and getting them to participate in the event. Most of the students readily agreed to be part of it. Those who weren’t sure initially were convinced soon since they only had to study about their favorite subject. Moreover, the sun was too brutal on them for them to play outside for long.

The next few weeks saw boys and girls spending their afternoons with newspapers, quiz books, magazines and often the internet. One of Mukherjee’s students, who was now pursuing his post-graduate degree, agreed to be the quiz-master.

Twentieth of June saw desks and tables being set up in the spacious garden in Mukherjee’s backyard. The evening happened to be a time that the entire neighborhood happened to remember for quite some time.

“Who wrote, The Picture of Dorian Gray?”

“Oscar Wilde”, shouted one of them.

“Which year was the first FIFA World…”

“1930!”, the answer came before the question could be completed. “Easy”, complained others.

“Name the capital of Norway”

“Oslo”, was the confident Ananya’s reply.

Prizes were given away at the end. A cricket bat! A music CD! A CD of a popular video-game! All sponsored by the parents.

The next year saw Sarkar’s football-freak son answer questions on science,  Dutta’s studious son jovially answer questions on sports and Bimal getting the questions on movies correct!

Two generations lived happily ever after.