Tuitions are the one thing that Bengalis must be commended for. Throughout Bengal, there is so much hysteria surrounding tuitions that it has become synonymous with the academia. For five subjects, students take six tuitions. Every mornings and evenings, you can see young students going out with a heavy bag from one tuition to the next. Whether you consider it as a consequence of the developing India with multiple-income nuclear families, where getting time for children is quite impossible, or the result of cut-throat competition, it not just supports so many families but has also made the once quiescent teaching profession profitable and worth picking up.
To the Generation Y, so to speak my generation, tuitions have emerged as a hub for mutual exchange of thoughts, words and deeds. They are community centers for gossip. While parents cannot give enough time to understand the psychophysical development of the child, the child manages on his own by imbibing in himself qualities learned through the five senses; the sixth sense is usually subdued. If you ask a child where he learned such and such habit, he would promptly reply Instinct. The sixth sense is good enough only for fixing excuses.My observation is that tuitions, as such, aren’t meant to supplement a child’s knowledge alone; they are meant to build the entire personality of the individual and therefore one usually builds his company out of those same mates.
I kept changing tuition for Physics since no teacher could explain those simple concepts in a universally accepted language called English. Several Bengali school teachers tried and failed. Whenever they tried to lift their chin above the book and start delving in the beauties of science that one must appreciate (having taken science), they started speaking alien to me. Naveen was kind to interrupt in the middle and bring the teacher back to the matter in the textbook. The fact remained, I could read the textbook on my own. We kept changing tuitions, what never changed was the company: SAPNA-TM; the additional trademark for the newly incorporated members Tanmoy and Mitesh. By the company I had, you can imagine the psychophysical development I had; the nerd that was Mitesh changed slowly into an introvert. I thought of exploring tuitions in other places several times but the only English tutor for Physics lived in Binnaguri and catching a train from there to Birpara in the evening, was a risky affair. If the train was on time, we would miss it; then we had nowhere to go but the streets, one way to Chamurchi and the other way to Telepara. In Birpara, no teacher could keep away from their mother tongue for the two hours they taught.
For mathematics, I was a little lucky. Since commerce students shared this subject with us, Nisha was of special help in arranging for a Maths tutor. Mr. Subhashish Bubai did not entertain too many students and he had to be contacted the day one joined St. James’, but on his favorite student Nisha Rathi’s request, Mitesh Karwa got admission. Between managing time between these two subjects and revising what was taught in the class, I could not afford any more tuitions. I wondered how other students managed tuitions in English and Bengali, let alone Chemistry or Biology.
The effects of the company I acquired through the Physics tuition was balanced equally by the company I had at the Maths tuition: Binay, Sneha, Rishabh and Jyoti. And no matter how much I hated gossip, I had to bear ninety minutes listening to stories of young widows, their evil-mouthed mother-in-laws and paralyzed father-in-laws, the fetch-water-in-pitcher, drop-child-to-school and cook-hundreds-of-chapatis subroutines. Some were real, others were from the imagination of one Ekta Kapoor. Over the years, Subhashish sir had learned to overlook such trivialities, although his personal favorite topic was also movies. He was especially fond of romantics and on some occasions, he had taken us to watch a movie or two in the Birpara cinema hall. Otherwise, he knew how to make his students do what their parents had sent them for; solve sums in the dreaded subject of Maths; this last ability of his had made him a sought-after teacher.
So while at the Physics tuition, Praveen and Co. discussed every violent action in school; who maligned against whom, which student cautioned whom, who blew up somebody’s whistle and what measure of beating was delivered to whom; at the Maths tuition, this knowledge was rounded up by everything that dealt with love and the like; who was seen with whom, who broke up, who was likely to break up and how good business the last movie did at the Birpara cinema hall. There were discussions about why designer wear was becoming more popular among girls and whether sporting a bike fast enough made one any cooler than he was. I kept myself away from all these discussions and completed exercise after exercise. A few days before the examination, Praveen would take my notes and photocopy them from Ashish’s shop. Sneha and Binay always crooned about my habit of getting ahead of them. Sneha never wanted anybody to get ahead of her, whether it was the race track or the Maths tuitions, and I had to fall back for a week or two. I liked getting ahead of her for this particular reason.
On our way back, we would have puchkas at Shankar da’s stall, sometimes followed by the ghoogni. Binay would drop Jyoti to her house and I would drop Sneha. This was perhaps the first gentlemanly act I learned from Binay. He was a gentleman most of the times; it was only sometimes that he became uncontrollable and it was better to dissociate from him on those occasions. It was risky travelling with Binay and I preferred Bipish as my bus-mate. He was more of a gentleman, all the time. He remained covertly seated in one corner and enjoyed the serene beauty of nature. He was neither interested in the girls seating ahead of us, nor in the songs playing behind. He was tall and handsome but remained unusually shy and coy, and hardly spoke a word. I liked sleeping the entire way from school to Birpara and he was the best mate I could have got.
One day, returning from the tuitions, I decided to call back home. Ashish’s father owned a PCO. There was a time when PCOs were the centres of life and activity, just like panwallahs round every corner of each lane. Dhirubhai Ambani’s dream of a mobile handset in every person’s hand and the rapid fall in tariff rates somehow threatened the very livelihood of this man and his family; he had diversified his business into photography and photostat to make ends meet. He was a man in his mid-50s, his middle tooth broken and the remaining visible teeth stained with gutkha. He had lost most of his hair and wore big dark spectacles. On the other hand, both his sons looked handsome and smart.
Munna bhaiya was still in the shop as I entered with Ashish. At first sight, he started: “If I see you with that loafer Praveen again, I would have you taken out of school. Mind you, he has no future; he will pull you as well into darkness.”
“We just study tuitions together.” Ashish retorted, pointing out in my direction to indicate not to be rude in front of me.
“Yeah, I see that these days. If I am not telling you anything, that does not mean I have worn a blind eye,” he continued with no rebate.
I dialed the number without paying much attention. At least, I acted out not to be paying much attention in the family affair. I still did not understand why people hated Praveen so much. Ashish’s father just entered the shop, having lost another hundred rupees on lottery tickets. He was a man full of hope and he never gave up on the one hope he had; that one day, God would open his treasury for him and fill his fortune with a lot of money, that he would send Munna to complete his degree in law, that he would send Ashish to the best engineering college, that he would open a shoe factory; dreams that never came true. Although he had tried his best to give Ashish the best education he could, a sense of guilt killed him every day for not being able to support Munna bhaiya’s education, and for tying his fate to the ill-boded omen the shop carried. As soon as he saw me, he smiled instantaneously.
I had finished my call. Everything was regular in the shop, grandma had a fracture while coming back from Calcutta and she was under bed rest, Anchal didi had started helping mother to cook; it was a regular call, there was nothing much to talk about. This was what uncle seemed to like about me, that I called home frequently and that I cared for them.
Ashish had washed his face in the backroom and reported for duty. Munna bhaiya was going off to settle dues withstanding with some richer merchants. Before going, he whispered something again in Ashish’s ears to which Ashish gave a surly look. He told me, “Take care of him.”
“Why is everybody so wary of Praveen?” I asked Ashish.
To this, the reply came from his father. “Why do you ask him, let me tell you. Everybody is wary of Praveen because he has done things nobody would ever do. He broke a child’s leg off a swing. Then, he blasted bombs in class. Then, he was caught cheating in the exam. He took a bus down, his parents had to pay the garage bills. It is only because of the goodwill of Mr. Mittal that Praveen is alive today; people would have already disposed of him. Even Mr. Mittal is tired of Praveen; he is waiting for him to pass out of school and take responsibility for himself. Poor parents! And now this boy is also falling into the same line. Don’t expect me to come to rescue you if you were in his place. If they send you to jail, I’ll tell them get rid of him. I neither have the money nor the patience that Mr. Mittal has.”
“But there is an explanation to everything.” I tried to calm him down.
“Not if everything gets repeated time and again.”
“In the two months since I’ve joined, I haven’t seen any such tendencies in Praveen. He has been a good boy.”
Mr. Prasad gave a sinister smile and said, “You have seen him for two months, I have seen him for twenty years.”
“Please father, don’t start this here.” Ashish tried to mediate.
“You have no right to speak,” he said gruffly and turned once again to me. “You know, this boy was third in class when in seventh standard. The teacher had appreciated his performance and commended me for his performance in class. Then he started moving around with this Praveen and see, he has moved down to 15th position in class. I feel so ashamed to look at that teacher.” He spoke heavily, arousing great pity.
“His brother could not complete his studies because we did not have enough money to support him. Now, we have finally been able to settle most of our dues. I don’t want to ruin this boy’s career in this shop as well but he hardly understands a thing. Beta, you are a good boy. I’m happy he is in your company. Please try to keep him away from Praveen, and you too should avoid him.”
It was getting dark and I walked quickly down Devigarh Colony. I did not know if I should heed uncle’s voice but then Praveen’s face appeared. It was so innocent that I could not leave him this way, at least not this way.
To the Generation Y, so to speak my generation, tuitions have emerged as a hub for mutual exchange of thoughts, words and deeds. They are community centers for gossip. While parents cannot give enough time to understand the psychophysical development of the child, the child manages on his own by imbibing in himself qualities learned through the five senses; the sixth sense is usually subdued. If you ask a child where he learned such and such habit, he would promptly reply Instinct. The sixth sense is good enough only for fixing excuses.My observation is that tuitions, as such, aren’t meant to supplement a child’s knowledge alone; they are meant to build the entire personality of the individual and therefore one usually builds his company out of those same mates.
I kept changing tuition for Physics since no teacher could explain those simple concepts in a universally accepted language called English. Several Bengali school teachers tried and failed. Whenever they tried to lift their chin above the book and start delving in the beauties of science that one must appreciate (having taken science), they started speaking alien to me. Naveen was kind to interrupt in the middle and bring the teacher back to the matter in the textbook. The fact remained, I could read the textbook on my own. We kept changing tuitions, what never changed was the company: SAPNA-TM; the additional trademark for the newly incorporated members Tanmoy and Mitesh. By the company I had, you can imagine the psychophysical development I had; the nerd that was Mitesh changed slowly into an introvert. I thought of exploring tuitions in other places several times but the only English tutor for Physics lived in Binnaguri and catching a train from there to Birpara in the evening, was a risky affair. If the train was on time, we would miss it; then we had nowhere to go but the streets, one way to Chamurchi and the other way to Telepara. In Birpara, no teacher could keep away from their mother tongue for the two hours they taught.
For mathematics, I was a little lucky. Since commerce students shared this subject with us, Nisha was of special help in arranging for a Maths tutor. Mr. Subhashish Bubai did not entertain too many students and he had to be contacted the day one joined St. James’, but on his favorite student Nisha Rathi’s request, Mitesh Karwa got admission. Between managing time between these two subjects and revising what was taught in the class, I could not afford any more tuitions. I wondered how other students managed tuitions in English and Bengali, let alone Chemistry or Biology.
The effects of the company I acquired through the Physics tuition was balanced equally by the company I had at the Maths tuition: Binay, Sneha, Rishabh and Jyoti. And no matter how much I hated gossip, I had to bear ninety minutes listening to stories of young widows, their evil-mouthed mother-in-laws and paralyzed father-in-laws, the fetch-water-in-pitcher, drop-child-to-school and cook-hundreds-of-chapatis subroutines. Some were real, others were from the imagination of one Ekta Kapoor. Over the years, Subhashish sir had learned to overlook such trivialities, although his personal favorite topic was also movies. He was especially fond of romantics and on some occasions, he had taken us to watch a movie or two in the Birpara cinema hall. Otherwise, he knew how to make his students do what their parents had sent them for; solve sums in the dreaded subject of Maths; this last ability of his had made him a sought-after teacher.
So while at the Physics tuition, Praveen and Co. discussed every violent action in school; who maligned against whom, which student cautioned whom, who blew up somebody’s whistle and what measure of beating was delivered to whom; at the Maths tuition, this knowledge was rounded up by everything that dealt with love and the like; who was seen with whom, who broke up, who was likely to break up and how good business the last movie did at the Birpara cinema hall. There were discussions about why designer wear was becoming more popular among girls and whether sporting a bike fast enough made one any cooler than he was. I kept myself away from all these discussions and completed exercise after exercise. A few days before the examination, Praveen would take my notes and photocopy them from Ashish’s shop. Sneha and Binay always crooned about my habit of getting ahead of them. Sneha never wanted anybody to get ahead of her, whether it was the race track or the Maths tuitions, and I had to fall back for a week or two. I liked getting ahead of her for this particular reason.
On our way back, we would have puchkas at Shankar da’s stall, sometimes followed by the ghoogni. Binay would drop Jyoti to her house and I would drop Sneha. This was perhaps the first gentlemanly act I learned from Binay. He was a gentleman most of the times; it was only sometimes that he became uncontrollable and it was better to dissociate from him on those occasions. It was risky travelling with Binay and I preferred Bipish as my bus-mate. He was more of a gentleman, all the time. He remained covertly seated in one corner and enjoyed the serene beauty of nature. He was neither interested in the girls seating ahead of us, nor in the songs playing behind. He was tall and handsome but remained unusually shy and coy, and hardly spoke a word. I liked sleeping the entire way from school to Birpara and he was the best mate I could have got.
One day, returning from the tuitions, I decided to call back home. Ashish’s father owned a PCO. There was a time when PCOs were the centres of life and activity, just like panwallahs round every corner of each lane. Dhirubhai Ambani’s dream of a mobile handset in every person’s hand and the rapid fall in tariff rates somehow threatened the very livelihood of this man and his family; he had diversified his business into photography and photostat to make ends meet. He was a man in his mid-50s, his middle tooth broken and the remaining visible teeth stained with gutkha. He had lost most of his hair and wore big dark spectacles. On the other hand, both his sons looked handsome and smart.
Munna bhaiya was still in the shop as I entered with Ashish. At first sight, he started: “If I see you with that loafer Praveen again, I would have you taken out of school. Mind you, he has no future; he will pull you as well into darkness.”
“We just study tuitions together.” Ashish retorted, pointing out in my direction to indicate not to be rude in front of me.
“Yeah, I see that these days. If I am not telling you anything, that does not mean I have worn a blind eye,” he continued with no rebate.
I dialed the number without paying much attention. At least, I acted out not to be paying much attention in the family affair. I still did not understand why people hated Praveen so much. Ashish’s father just entered the shop, having lost another hundred rupees on lottery tickets. He was a man full of hope and he never gave up on the one hope he had; that one day, God would open his treasury for him and fill his fortune with a lot of money, that he would send Munna to complete his degree in law, that he would send Ashish to the best engineering college, that he would open a shoe factory; dreams that never came true. Although he had tried his best to give Ashish the best education he could, a sense of guilt killed him every day for not being able to support Munna bhaiya’s education, and for tying his fate to the ill-boded omen the shop carried. As soon as he saw me, he smiled instantaneously.
I had finished my call. Everything was regular in the shop, grandma had a fracture while coming back from Calcutta and she was under bed rest, Anchal didi had started helping mother to cook; it was a regular call, there was nothing much to talk about. This was what uncle seemed to like about me, that I called home frequently and that I cared for them.
Ashish had washed his face in the backroom and reported for duty. Munna bhaiya was going off to settle dues withstanding with some richer merchants. Before going, he whispered something again in Ashish’s ears to which Ashish gave a surly look. He told me, “Take care of him.”
“Why is everybody so wary of Praveen?” I asked Ashish.
To this, the reply came from his father. “Why do you ask him, let me tell you. Everybody is wary of Praveen because he has done things nobody would ever do. He broke a child’s leg off a swing. Then, he blasted bombs in class. Then, he was caught cheating in the exam. He took a bus down, his parents had to pay the garage bills. It is only because of the goodwill of Mr. Mittal that Praveen is alive today; people would have already disposed of him. Even Mr. Mittal is tired of Praveen; he is waiting for him to pass out of school and take responsibility for himself. Poor parents! And now this boy is also falling into the same line. Don’t expect me to come to rescue you if you were in his place. If they send you to jail, I’ll tell them get rid of him. I neither have the money nor the patience that Mr. Mittal has.”
“But there is an explanation to everything.” I tried to calm him down.
“Not if everything gets repeated time and again.”
“In the two months since I’ve joined, I haven’t seen any such tendencies in Praveen. He has been a good boy.”
Mr. Prasad gave a sinister smile and said, “You have seen him for two months, I have seen him for twenty years.”
“Please father, don’t start this here.” Ashish tried to mediate.
“You have no right to speak,” he said gruffly and turned once again to me. “You know, this boy was third in class when in seventh standard. The teacher had appreciated his performance and commended me for his performance in class. Then he started moving around with this Praveen and see, he has moved down to 15th position in class. I feel so ashamed to look at that teacher.” He spoke heavily, arousing great pity.
“His brother could not complete his studies because we did not have enough money to support him. Now, we have finally been able to settle most of our dues. I don’t want to ruin this boy’s career in this shop as well but he hardly understands a thing. Beta, you are a good boy. I’m happy he is in your company. Please try to keep him away from Praveen, and you too should avoid him.”
It was getting dark and I walked quickly down Devigarh Colony. I did not know if I should heed uncle’s voice but then Praveen’s face appeared. It was so innocent that I could not leave him this way, at least not this way.