It was 1st of August: Lokmanya Bal Gangadhar Tilak’s death anniversary. As is the tradition, on this day, schools all over Maharashtra organize elocution contests, especially for primary school children, as tribute to the great man. Janakrao Shinde Primary School was no exception. Lokmanya’s ‘punyatithi’ was being observed in the same ol’ tradition with fervour that day, and the buzz about the event made the school resemble a beehive! School had a medium sized auditorium (doubling up as a twin classroom on other days), choc-a-bloc with enthusiastic parents and their half-engrossed-half-disinterested little wards alike. Disinterested, because they had to watch their peers sing paeans about the Lokmanya (without really realising the gravity of his greatness and at an average age of 6) or worse, actually participate in the event; and engrossed, because for those who HAD participated, revising their learnt-by-rote speech one last time was THE agenda of the moment. Sumeet, the guy who stood first in the batch in Montessori, and having come in first standard with a rather inflated reputation, had also participated, being equally (or more?) clueless about the whats-and-the-whys of it. It was his first brush with stage.
Sumeet was a bright kid, with an extra-short and extra-wiry frame. He learnt reading and writing Marathi and English at the age of four, and could and did read newspapers daily at the age of 6, though comprehending many-a-news was beyond his capacity. Apart from that, all that he was interested in was playing kiddy games out in the open, just like any other kid his age. Till now, everything had gone on smoothly for him in his rather short school life. He could score good marks based on what he already knew: reading. Learning-by-rote was an alien breed of animal he had encountered in 1st standard, and that animal, was staring him right in his little face, that busy and buzzy morning.
It was Sumeet’s turn. Restive, he proceeded towards the podium. The little heart was pounding really hard. At the podium, the mic looked down upon the hapless soul with a grin, as if to mock him. The mic had to be brought down to Sumeet’s height, before he could start his speech.
Sumeet started. Sumeet continued. And right at the middle of the speech... Sumeet went blank. He could remember nothing. He could just stand there, and give a baffled look towards his mom. She was sitting too far away from him, to be able to prompt him. After a quarter of a minute of deafening silence, he gave up. He proceeded back to his mother, too terrorised and dumbstruck to be able to cry even. He was smart enough to interpret the smirks on the faces of parents of other participants, and he could also understand that he has let himself and his mom down, and that the insult would rankle for some time to come.
(continued...)
Sumeet was a bright kid, with an extra-short and extra-wiry frame. He learnt reading and writing Marathi and English at the age of four, and could and did read newspapers daily at the age of 6, though comprehending many-a-news was beyond his capacity. Apart from that, all that he was interested in was playing kiddy games out in the open, just like any other kid his age. Till now, everything had gone on smoothly for him in his rather short school life. He could score good marks based on what he already knew: reading. Learning-by-rote was an alien breed of animal he had encountered in 1st standard, and that animal, was staring him right in his little face, that busy and buzzy morning.
It was Sumeet’s turn. Restive, he proceeded towards the podium. The little heart was pounding really hard. At the podium, the mic looked down upon the hapless soul with a grin, as if to mock him. The mic had to be brought down to Sumeet’s height, before he could start his speech.
Sumeet started. Sumeet continued. And right at the middle of the speech... Sumeet went blank. He could remember nothing. He could just stand there, and give a baffled look towards his mom. She was sitting too far away from him, to be able to prompt him. After a quarter of a minute of deafening silence, he gave up. He proceeded back to his mother, too terrorised and dumbstruck to be able to cry even. He was smart enough to interpret the smirks on the faces of parents of other participants, and he could also understand that he has let himself and his mom down, and that the insult would rankle for some time to come.
(continued...)
