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.
