BEFORE THE EXAMINATION

IN APRIL, just two weeks before the examinations, Swaminathan realised that his
father was changing--for the worse. He was becoming fussy and difficult. He
seemed all of a sudden to have made up his mind to harass his son. If the latter
was seen chatting with his granny, he was told sourly, 'Remember, boy, there is an
examination. Your granny can wait, not your examination.' If he was seen
wandering behind his mother, lie was hunted down and sent to his desk. If his
voice was heard anywhere after the Taluk Office gong had struck nine, a command
would come from his father's room, 'Swami, why haven't you gone to bed yet? You
must get up early and study a bit.' This was a trying period in Swaminathan's life.
One day he was piqued enough to retort, 'Why are you so nervous about my
examination?'
'Suppose you fail?'
'Suppose all your juniors in the Fifth Standard become your classmates?'
Swaminathan sat at Decimals for half an hour.
At school everybody seemed to be overwhelmed by the thought of the
examinations. It was weeks since anybody had seen a smile on Sankar's face.
Somu had become brisk and business-like. The Pea took time to grasp jokes, and
seldom gave out any. And as for Rajam, he came to the school at the stroke of the
first bell, took down everything the teacher said, and left at the stroke of the last
bell, hardly uttering a dozen words to anybody. Mani was beginning to look worried
and took every opportunity to take Sankar aside and have his doubts (that arose
from time to time as he plodded through his texts) cleared. He dogged the steps of
the school clerk. There was a general belief in the school that the clerk was
omniscient and knew all the question papers of all the classes.One day Mani went to the clerk's house and laid a neat bundle containing
fresh brinjals at his feet. The clerk was pleased and took Mani in and seated him
on a stool. The clerk looked extremely amiable and Mani felt that he could ask
anything at that moment and get it. The clerk was murmuring something about his
cat, a lank ill-fed thing, that was nestling close to him. Most of what he was saying
did not enter Mani's head. He was waiting feverishly to open the topic of question
papers. The clerk had meanwhile passed from cats to eye-flies; but it made little
difference to Mani, who was waiting for the other to pause for breath to launch his
attack. 'You must never let these eye flies buzz near your eyes. All cases of
eyesore can be traced to it. When you get eyesore the only thing you can do is to
take a slice of raw onion....'
Mani realised that the other would not stop, and butted in, 'There is only a
week more for the examinations, sir....'
The clerk was slightly puzzled: 'Yes, indeed, a week more.... You must
take care to choose only the juicy variety, the large juicy variety, not the small
onion....'
'Sir,' Mani interrupted, ignoring the juicy variety, 'I am much worried about
my examination.' He tried to look pathetic.
'I am glad. If you read well, you will pass' said the Oracle.
'You see, sir, I am so worried, I don't sleep at nights, thinking of the
examination.... If you could possibly tell me something important.... I have such a
lot to study--don't want to study unnecessary things that may not be necessary for
the examination.' He meandered thus. The clerk understood what he was driving
at, but said, 'Just read all your portions arid you will pass.' Mani realised that
diplomacy was not his line. He asked bluntly, 'Please tell me, sir, what questions
we are getting for our examination.'
The clerk denied having any knowledge of the question papers. Mani
flattered him by asking, if he did not know the questions, who else would. By just a little more of the same judicious flattery the clerk was moved to give what Mani
believed to be 'valuable hints'. In spite of the fact that he did not know what the
First Form texts were, the clerk ventured to advise, 'You must pay particular
attention to geography. Maybe you will have to practise map-drawing a lot. And in
arithmetic make it a point to solve at least five 'I won't.'
'Of course you won't if you study hard and answer well.... Suppose you fail
and all your class-mates go up, leaving you behind? You can start doing just what
you like on the very day your examination closes.'
Swaminathan reflected: Suppose the Pea, Mani, Rajam, and Sankar,
deserted him and occupied Second A? His father was right. And then his father
drove home the point, problems every day, and you will be able to tackle arithmetic
as easily as you swallow plantains.'
'And what about English?'
'Oh, don't worry about that. Have you read all your lessons?'
'Yes, sir,' Mani replied without conviction.
'It is all right then. You must read all the important lessons again, and if you
have time, yet again, and that will be ample.'
These answers satisfied Mani greatly. On his way home, he smiled to
himself and said that the four annas he had invested on brinjals was not after all a
waste.
Mani felt important. He secretly pitied his classmates, who had to do coolly
work without valuable hints to lighten their labour. He felt he ought to share his
good secret with Swaminathan without divulging the source.
They were going home from the school. They stopped for a while at the
junction of Vinayak Mudali and Grove Streets before parting ways. Mani said,
'Young man, have you any idea what we are getting for the examination?'
'Nothing outside the covers of the text-books.' Mani ignored the humour. 'Now listen to me carefully, last night from seven
to ten, do you know what I did?'
'Munched ground-nuts?'
'Idiot, don't joke. I made two maps or India, two of Africa, and one map of
Europe.'
'Say all the maps in the Atlas.'
'Maybe,' Mani said, not quite liking the remark, but I do it with some definite
purpose.... It may be that I know one or two questions. But don't let the other
fellows know anything about it. I may get into trouble.' Swaminathan was taken in
by the other's seriousness and inferred a moral.
Reaching home, Swaminathan felt rather dull. His mother was not at home.
Granny was not in a talkative mood. He related to her some exciting incidents of
the day: 'Granny, guess what happened in our school to-day. A boy in First C
stabbed another in the forearm with a penknife.'
'What for?' asked granny mechanically.
'They were enemies.' Finding that it fell flat, he brought out the big event of
the day. 'Granny, granny, here is another thing. The Head Master knocked his toe
against a door-post and oh! there was such a lot of blood! He went limping about
the school the whole day. He couldn't take the Third Form and so they had leave,
the lucky fellows!'
'Is it?' asked granny.
Swaminathan perceived, to his intense disgust, that his granny was in one
of her dull sleepy moods.
He strayed near the swing-cradle of his little brother. Though at first he had
been sceptical of his brother's attractions and possibilities, now day by day he was
finding him more interesting. This little one was now six months old and was
charming. His attainments were: he made shrill noises whenever he saw anybody;
thrust his fists into his mouth and damped his round arms up to the elbow;
vigorously kicked the air; and frequently displayed his bare red gums in a smile.
Swaminathan loved every inch of him. He would spend hours balancing himself on the edge of the cradle and
trying to make him say 'Swaminathan'. The little one would gurgle, and
Swaminathan would shriek, pretending that it was the other's futile version of his
name.
Now he peered in and was disappointed to find the baby asleep. He
cleared his throat aloud and coughed in the hope of waking him. But the baby
slept. He waited for a moment, and tiptoed away, reminding himself that is was
best to leave die other alone, as he had a knack of throwing the house in turmoil for
the first half-hour, whenever he awoke from sleep.
Staying at home in the evenings was extremely irksome. He sighed at the
thought of the sand-banks of Sarayu and Mani's company. But his father had
forbidden him to go out till the examinations were over. He often felt he ought to tell
his father what he thought of him. But somehow when one came near doing it, one
failed. He would have to endure it after all only for a week.... The thought that he
would have to put up with his travails only for a week at worst gave him fresh
energy.
He sat at his table and took out his Atlas. He opened the political map of
Europe and sat gazing at it. It puzzled him how people managed to live in such a
crooked country as Europe. He wondered what the shape of the people might be
who lived in places where the outline narrowed as in a cape, and how they
managed to escape being strangled by the contour of their land. And then another
favourite problem began to tease him: how did those map makers find out what the
shape of a country was? How did they find out that Europe was like a camel's
head? Probably they stood on high towers and copied what they saw below. He
wondered if he would be able to see India as it looked in the map, if he stood on
the top of the Town Hall. He had never been there nor ever did he wish to go there.
Though he was incredulous, tailor Ranga persistently informed him that there was
a torture chamber in the top story of the Town Hall to which Pathans decoyed
young people.
He shook himself from his brown study and copied the map of Europe. He
kept the original and his own copy side by side and congratulated himself on his
ability to draw, though his outline looked like some strange animal that had part
bull's face and part camel's.It was past seven by now and his father came home. He was greatly
pleased to see his son at work. 'That is right, boy,' he said looking at the map.
Swaminathan felt that that moment was worth all his suffering. He turned over the
pages and opened out the map of Africa. Two days before his examination he sat
down to draw up a list of his needs. On a piece of paper he wrote: Unruled white
paper 20 Sheets Nibs 6 Ink 2 Bottles Clips Pins He nibbled his pencil and reread
the list. The list was disappointing. He had never known that his wants were so
few. When he first sat down to draw the list he had hoped to fill two or three
imposing pages. But now the cold lines on the paper numbered only five. He
scrutinised the list again: 'Unruled white paper 20 sheets.' He asked himself why he
was so particular about the paper's being unruled. It was a well-known fact that, try
as he would, his lines had a tendency to curl up towards the right-hand corner of
the paper. That would not do for examinations. He had better keep a stock of ruled
paper. And then 'Nibs'. He wondered how many nibs one would need for an
examination. One? Two? Five?... And then the Ink column worried him. How much
of it did one buy? After that he had trouble with clips and pins. He not only had not
the faintest idea of the quantity of each that he would need but was totally ignorant
of the unit of purchase also. Could one go to a shop and demand six pins and six
clips without offending the shop man?
At the end the list was corrected to: Unruled white paper Ruled white paper
Black ink Clips Pins The list was not satisfactory even now. After pondering over it,
he added 'Cardboard Pad One' and 'One Rupee For Additional Expenses'. His
father was busy in his office. Swaminathan stood before him with the list in his
hand. Father was absorbed in his work and did not know that Swaminathan was
there. Swaminathan suddenly realised that it would be better to approach his father
at some other time. He could be sure of a better reception if he opened the
question after food. He tiptoed out. When he was just outside the door, his father
called out, 'Who is that?' There was no friendliness in the tone. 'Who is that I say?'
roared father again and was at his side with a scowling face before Swaminathan
could decide whether to sneak out or stop and answer.
'Was it you?'
'Yes.'
You idiot, why couldn't you answer instead of driving me hoarse calling out
"Who is that? Who is that?".... A man can't have peace in this house even for a
second. Here I am at work--and every fifth second somebody or other pops in with
some fool question or other. How am I to go on? Go and tell your mother that she
can't come to my room for the rest of the day. I don't care if the whole battalion of
oil-mongers and vegetable women come and clamour for money. Let her drive
them out. Your mother seems to think--What is that paper in your hand?'
'Nothing, father,' Swaminathan answered, thrusting the paper into his
pocket.
'What is that?' father shouted, snatching the list. Reading it with a terrific
scowl, he went back to his chair. 'What is this thing?'
Swaminathan had to cough twice to find his voice. 'It is--my--examination
list.'
'What examination list?'
'My examinations begin the day after to-morrow, you know.'
'And yet you are wandering about the house like an unleashed donkey!
What preposterous list is this? Do you think rupees, annas and pies drop from the
sky?' Swaminathan did not think so, but something nearly so. Father pulled out a
drawer and peering into it said: 'You can take from me anything you want. I haven't
got clips. You don't need them.
And then the pad, why do you want a pad? Are there no desks in your
rooms? In our days slates were good enough for us. But now you want pen, paper,
ink, and pad to keep under the paper....' He took out an awful red pencil and scored
out the 'Pad' from the list. It almost gashed the list.
He flung it back at Swaminathan, who looked at it sadly. How deliriously he
had been dreaming of going to Ameer Mart, jingling with coins, and buying things!
He was just going out when rather called him back and said: 'Here, boy, as
you go, for goodness' sake, remove the baby from the hall. I can't stand his idiotic
cry.... What is the matter with him?... Is your mother deaf or callous? The child may
cry till he has fits, for aught she cares....'