SCHOOL OF HARD KNOCKS – (Memoir series – Story 29)

AS STRONG AS HERCULES

Hey, you won’t believe it! I finally got myself a bicycle.

But hold onto your handlebars, because this isn’t some shiny, out-of-the-box ride.

Nope, I had to rummage through Daddy’s shop and pick one from a bunch of dusty, old bikes in the corner.

See, I had my eyes on this ultra-cool BSA bike at the Broadway Cycle Shop.

But I had to hit the brakes on the drooling over that gleaming cycle when life decided to surprise me with a Hercules instead.

This Hercules bike is like the big, friendly giant of bicycles, not as sleek as the BSA. But I’m starting to like its sturdiness.

Because now I can rule the streets, one bumpy road at a time!

As I cruise towards school, I spot Rao sir pedalling away on his bicycle.

I can zip past him in the blink of an eye, but there’s a tiny problem. I’ve committed the ultimate crime of not doing my homework.

So, I better slow down and enjoy the show as he wobbles from side to side, stretching like a rubber band trying to reach the pedals.

A tricycle would be ideal for him. Now, this is what I call the daily morning entertainment!

Homework is so boring, and I’m not wasting my time on it.

Fast forward to Sanskrit class, and Ramakrishnan Sir starts chanting mystical Sanskrit incantations. And all I can barely decipher is that Sanskrit is essentially Hindi with a couple of dots placed mysteriously to the right of a vowel.

Ramakrishnan Sir is usually too busy focusing on the front-row students, leaving us backbenchers to enjoy peace and tranquillity.

Suddenly, I hear my name called.

Who dares disrupt my doodling in peace?

Oops! It’s Ramakrishnan Sir. He wants to inspect my homework.

So, I stand up, perform my signature move of rubbing the back of my head with my right hand, and say, “I forgot, Sir!”

The class is amused at my glib answer and gestures. But I’m not sure how Ramakrishnan Sir will react.

He lets the class savour the moment and quips, “Don’t go ‘porogoat’ (Malayalam for backward), come ‘mumboat’ (Malayalam for forward).”

I’ve officially made an ass of myself.

He pats me on the shoulder and advises me to take my homework seriously. Phew! That was too easy.

Next up, the dreaded Mathematics class and Rao Sir enters the scene. The relaxed, cheerful atmosphere changes into a serious one because Rao Sir is not just strict, he’s enthusiastic about physical punishment.

His weapon of choice? The whiteboard duster.

We, the backbenchers, huddle in silence, praying for invisibility.

Unfortunately, Rao Sir’s eagle eyes spot me, and he demands to see my homework.

So I stand up, repeat my classic line, “I forgot, Sir,” and the class chuckles.

Rao Sir, however, is not amused. He grabs my head while lifting his other hand as if to slap me. And with a mocking glare, he banishes me to the hallway.

“Bring a letter from your father, or stand outside forever” he yells.

Daddy, after a brief lecture, scribbles me a letter.

The next day, I stand proudly outside Rao Sir’s class, clutching the letter.

As he walks in, I tell him I have brought the letter. But he shuffles past, completely ignoring me.

The minutes move on, and the class is due to end very soon. Still, he doesn’t acknowledge my existence.

And I can’t take the humiliation anymore.

I rip the letter into a million pieces and watch them flutter and twirl down to the ground floor where the School Bus is parked.

Ah, that felt good!

In a few minutes, the bell rings and Rao sir walks out. And he wants to see the letter.

Now how am I supposed to hand over the letter when it’s scattered all over the School Bus Shed?

His bloodshot eyes are piercing my gaze.

“Sir, the letter flew down with the wind” I say showing him how the wind had come and grabbed the letter away while I watched helplessly.

“Go get it” he snaps while lifting his hands as if to slap me.

So I spend a few minutes downstairs, pretending to search for the elusive letter.

The next day, I wait for Rao Sir outside his class, ready to deliver the bad news.

He grabs my head and delivers a few firm knocks with the duster. And I count the stars I see with each knock on my head.

That, my dear friends, is the only mathematical skill I’ve gained in Rao Sir’s class.

In all this time, I haven’t ever received physical punishment at home. Especially my Mummy had a way of managing me without having to inflict physical punishment.

Yet, Rao sir is surely making up for it.

But you see, I am strong and sturdy enough to handle the bumps like my trusted Hercules.