#187: Childhood: The Best Time Of Our Lives

My Life In 100 Objects Part 5

"Can a person be considered an object?

I posed this question to Google, and it yielded two conflicting answers.

“If you are speaking in terms of Physics (mechanical for example), absolutely. A human would be an object in space and time. When the question is philosophical, the answer is ambiguous. Descartes' theory, “I think, therefore I exist”, would make your answer be ‘no.’” Someone wrote on Quora.

But then Wikipedia offered another perspective:

“In ordinary language, one is inclined to call only a material object an "object". In certain contexts, it may be socially inappropriate to apply the word object to animate beings, especially to human beings, while the words “entity” and “being” are more acceptable.”

It seems I have to make up my own mind. So, for this memoir, a person is considered an object. And here is the next story associated with the “object” - The Maths Teacher

28. The Maths Teacher

I was a shy student. I don’t know whether it was my introverted nature or my petite frame that made me shrink in my shell from very early on. I would sit at the back of the class where I made a friend. She was right opposite of me - worldly-wise and knew all the gossip. She would share stories about people, things, and the movies she had recently watched. I craved those stories.

One day, a new math teacher arrived in our class, introduced as our headmistress's sister-in-law. We were told to be on our best behavior. She gave us a maths problem to solve and stood at the back of the class while we solved it, right next to me. Since my mother used to teach me maths at home, I solved the problem immediately and stood up to show it to the teacher. My ulterior motive was to get it over with so that I could listen to the rest of the movie story my friend was whispering in my ear before the teacher arrived.

The new teacher was amazed at how fast I solved the math problem, and it was correct. "You are such an intelligent girl," she exclaimed, "What are you doing sitting at the back of the class?"

She made me pack up my bag and sit in the front row, next to the girl (let me call her N) who used to top the class each year.

From that day on, my life changed forever. The class topper became my best friend. My grades improved, and soon I was one of the top 5 students in my class. More than that, I gained confidence in my abilities and started seeing myself as one of the bright students.

29. My First Followers

One of the major achievements of being among the top 5 students was becoming a group leader. Our headmistress devised a clever idea—forming groups of five to six students, appointing one of the top students as the group leader, and allowing them to assist the group with maths and science. This proved to be a brilliant concept, benefiting not only the students in need but also the group leaders. It taught me how to lead a group, solidified my learning, and honed my leadership skills.

Besides, it had an added advantage. I had five to six classmates who were totally dedicated to me. Put it this way, I experienced the taste of fan-power at a very early age. It was not just an ego boost but an intrinsic motivation to continue doing well, ensuring I could keep leading a group.

Which I did, all up to Grade eight.

30. War Planes

I vividly remember standing in our courtyard when, with a thundering sound, four warplanes swiftly came at the speed of light. We were still recovering from the terror they caused, when they came back and went in the direction they came from.

It was a pre-emptive strike on eight Indian airfields, including Agra, which is 480 kilometers (300 mi) from the border. Fortunately, the Taj Mahal was camouflaged, as its white marble would have glowed like a beacon in the moonlight.

On that same night, the prime minister declared that India was at war with Pakistan. Schools closed, blackouts commenced, and air-raid sirens blared. Our neighbors dug trenches in the vacant ground just outside our house. My father covered the glass windows with black paper to shield the light.

During nights when the sirens wailed, we would stand in the corners of our veranda as instructed. Sometimes, when the bombings sounded too intense, we would join our mother in the trenches. However, our father never joined us. His philosophy was that if a bomb fell, we had no chance regardless of our location, so one might as well stay in the comfort of one’s bed.

A few days later, my grandparents arrived from Rajpura, where my grandfather was a professor at Kasturba Girls College. Concerned for our safety, they took us with them as Rajpura was slightly farther away from the border. We stayed there for about three months until the war subsided.

31. Broken Crockery

It was an enjoyble time for us. Staying with our grandparents meant no rules and regulations, just lots of fun and play. We resided in college quarters alongside other professors who young had kids. There was no shortage of playmates. Our grandfather enrolled us in a nearby public school, which was below our academic level, so studies were not a problem.

Getting to school meant crossing chili fields. I distinctly remember the mountains of red chilies in the fields, left there to dry. We sneezed vigorously every time we crossed, but gradually, we got used to it.

Grandpa's college was situated next a biscuits factory, from where he would bring home breakage biscuits in kilos. Also nearby was crockery factory that had shut down. They had dumped their broken china in a vacant block. After school, we would go hunting for crockery pieces that were still in good condition. We discovered many kettles, cups, plates, and even tiny ones that became our toys.

32. Television

One outcome of the war was the hurried establishment of a TV station in Amritsar. Pakistan already had a TV station in Lahore, broadcasting fake news claiming that Pakistani forces had occupied Amritsar, complete with photoshopped images of their soldiers strolling in Amritsar Hall Bazzar. In response, India had to set up a TV station capable of reaching deep into Pakistani territory. Although the original plan was to establish the station in Jallandhar, its reach would not have been sufficient.

Within weeks, the plan was implemented, and Prime Minister Indira Gandhi inaugurated the TV station. The inauguration ceremony took place in Khalsa College, for which my father had a premium ticket (though he didn't attend for some reason, which I can't recall). Thus began the prolonged competition between Amritsar and Lahore television stations. To attract the Pakistani audience, Amritsar TV showcased two Hindi movies and two movie song programs a week. Lahore TV, on the other hand, featured American serials, such as Here is Lucy, Charlie Chaplin, Star Trek, Six Million Dollar Man, and Starsky and Hutch. Eventually, Lahore TV also started producing high-quality drama series.

But, it was the Hindi movies that became the craze. Not many people could afford to buy a TV at that time, so those who did, paid the price for years to come. On movie nights, everyone would gather in the homes of those with TVs to watch the movie. The poor hosts not only found themselves cornered in their own homes but also had to feed the gathering.

Why didn't they tell them off, you may ask?

Well, in Indian culture, it is considered rude to say no to a guest, even if they were uninvited and kept coming twice a week for many years. My brother and I were guilty of that too. We used to visit a home that was barely a two-room condo with at least twenty other people all gathered there to watch movie of the night. I watched over 100 Hindi movies this way over the years.

One positive aspect of this entire saga was that younger generations in India and Pakistan got to know each other through each other's TV programs.

33. Tiny Tricolor Flag

A couple of years after the war concluded, an agreement was reached between India and Pakistan to repatriate each other's prisoners. On the day of the first convoy's arrival, our school teachers took us to stand by the main road, each holding a little tricolor flag to welcome back our soldiers. The road was adorned with welcome gates and buntings, while school kids in their uniforms lined both sides, and loudspeakers resonated with patriotic songs.

We eagerly waited and waited.

The first convoy was scheduled to arrive at 3 pm, but they didn't reach until 7 pm. The trucks, carrying 40-50 men each, moved at a snail's pace. Along the way, people attempted to shake their hands and offer sweets and food. As they approached, we rushed towards one of the trucks. It was almost dark, and I stood on my tiptoes, hoping to shake a soldier's hand—anyone. Feeling disheartened due to my short stature, I almost gave up when a rough hand reached out and shook my outstretched hand. That simple gesture became the most patriotic moment of my young life.

34. Comics

My best friend, N, was an avid reader who introduced me to the world of books. Her father was a member of Amritsar's only public library and would bring books for her regularly. Once, while at her home, I started reading a library book she had already finished. She graciously allowed me to take it with me, under the condition that I return it before its due date – a promise I kept. This became a regular routine: her father would bring books every two weeks, she would read them, lend them to me, and I would return them to her.

On one occasion, her father brought her a thick, bound manual of comics, containing around 20 to 30 Phantom comics. I devoured them and fell in love with the series. I later explored more comic series like Mandrake The Magician, although Phantom remained my favorite.

Our friendship flourished through this shared interest. N was a much-loved, well-protected child who could seemingly do no wrong. Her parents and elder brother doted on her. One day, I caught her making a tiny cut in the strap of her shoes. When I asked her about it, she explained that she had been wearing these shoes for months, and her parents wouldn't buy her new ones until they broke. So, she made a strategic cut, hoping it would gradually enlarge, leading to new shoes in a few weeks. Ingenious! Isn’t it?

In our school, there was a teacher who struggled to control the class. Another teacher, who was very bold, would accompany her at the beginning of the period, making everyone stand with their hands outstretched. She would then proceed to hit each hand with a ruler, causing considerable pain. The class would remain quiet for the rest of the period. When N shared this with her father, he became furious that his child was being punished daily for no reason. He visited the school, lodged a complaint, and as a result, the teacher was reprimanded, and we were spared from further punishment.

35. Boiling Point

We had a boy in our class, who always held the second position while my friend held the first position. Let me call him J. For some reason J and I didn’t get along.

Our teachers consistently favored N and J, selecting them to monitor the class while they were away and showing them preferential treatment during assessments. At least, that's what U, another boy who usually secured the third position, revealed to me. He confidently claimed that once we reached Grades 9 and 10, where State School Board conducted the exams, we would outperform them. I was skeptical; he was a good student and confident, but I felt I had no chance in the world.

As it happened in Grade 8, our headmistress decided that our class should participate in a joint exam with eight other small private schools to prepare us for the Grade 9 State School Board exams. We traveled to a tiny school inside the walled city of Amritsar. Due to the distance and heavy traffic, my father had to drop me off. There we were subjected to oral science exam as well. I found myself in a room that resembled a slaughterhouse, facing three unfamiliar faces behind a table—none from our school. A daunting male teacher posed a series of questions in Punjabi, and his accent was so different that I struggled to understand him. Although I answered most questions, he asked about the 'ubal darja' of water, a term I hadn’t heard of. But I dare not ask for clarification and made up an answer. Later, I discovered he was asking for the boiling point of water, a fact I knew so well. And my answer was 20 degrees. How silly of me. The whole world knew what the boiling point of water was.

How could I be so stupid?

I thought I had bombed the whole exam. I thought they might fail me and I would have to sit Grade 8 again while everyone would move to high schools. When the result was announced, Our headmistress announced the result in the morning assembly bragging how well our school did in eight school joint exams. Our school held the first five positions. She started announcing, “The student who got top marks is N.” Everyone clapped. She continued, “The student in the second position is Neera. She beat J by just 2 marks.” I couldn’t believe my ears. How could that be possible? Especially when I got the boiling point of water wrong.

I thought I had bombed the whole subject. I worried about the possibility of failing and having to repeat Grade 8 while my peers moved on to high school. However, when the results were announced in the morning assembly, our headmistress proudly declared how well our school had performed in the joint exams. Our school claimed the top five positions. N, my best friend secured the highest marks, followed by, to my astonishment, me. I got the second position, surpassing J by just two marks. I couldn't believe my ears, especially considering my earlier shemozzle with the boiling point of water.

P.S. Apologies, no images today. I am travelling at the moment.

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That’s all from me this week.

See you next Friday.