Madan Saha

(A tame short story with an evil twist at the end)

BENOD BEHARI BOYS COLLEGE was no earth-shakingly academic institution. It had a run-of-the-mill yellow building, with practically no campus and ran along a street corner at one of the suburbs of Calcutta.
A stream of students with marks below a respectable percentage enrolled each year. The students were as dedicated to their studies as their masters were to their teachings — both contending with each other in dodging their attribution to the education system in the country.
The young boys loitered around the street corner in nondescript shirts hanging loose from inexpensive trousers. They sported economical slippers and smoked bidis bought at a ‘forever credit’ corner shop. The owner of the shop ran the risk of losing either his business or his life. He preferred the former and so was still ruling his roost.
Whistling at any passing femme fatale of any age, the young gentlemen constituted the promising amass of youth that would soon join the bandwagon of the country’s unemployed brigade.
Conducting a serious examination in the college was as easy as catching a cloud and pinning it to the ground. Books were hidden inside bathrooms, scrap notes hidden inside sweaty palms and smelly socks, and theorem and formulae written inside executive full-sleeve-shirt cuffs — the battle against education prepared to the minutest details, everything painstakingly arranged in order.
Their invigilators preferred their lives and families and often strolled out to avoid any controversies, returning occasionally to request them to lower their voices.
“We are the BBBC’s, with three B’s. Ha? No joke!’’ was their lethal slogan.
The new Principal, who was transferred from Uttarpara College of Science, essentially renowned for his tyrannical ways, was aware and fed up of all these. Professor Satyen Das made sure that this college too got its share of knowledge of the country’s real educational set-up. He was a man who would not be shaken off by a bunch of rogues. He had been a rogue himself in his hay-days and had excelled in education later on, learning the real value after receiving the right guidance. All these rootless scalawags lack is the right bearing, and a target to achieve, he knew. He was afraid of no one. It was always his tussle with the authorities. He had believed education was the birthright of every student and there was no compromise on that. He was sure that neither the authorities who got irritated at his unyielding rules nor the students who never cared a damn for their future, knew better than him.

He had been the Principal of seven colleges, debarred 85 students from the colleges, 184 students were made to rewrite the entire exam in his presence, and 160 students were given written warnings. With a track record as exciting as this, he arrived at Benod Behari Boys College with a deadly warrant.

He made sure of his presence quite soon. The boys got a jolt one fine day just before their terminal exams. They saw a note on the board:

“Any Student caught copying or using unfair means in their forthcoming examinations will be expelled from the college for life. No requests for further examinations or pardon will be entertained. So students are requested NOT to bring inside the exam hall anything except their pens, rulers, pencils and erasers. Students will be thoroughly checked at the entrance hall and anybody found guilty of treason will be debarred from the hall.’’

It was signed : Prof. S. Das.

“Phooh!’’ said the boys.

“Hey what does debarred mean?’’

“Where will they search, eh? Inside our under-wears?’’

“Hee, hee I hope a woman searches me!’’

“Shud up! You half-man! We’re cool man, cool…’’

They were all not so ‘cool’ after all. They knew the man’s track record and were all jittery inside. Yet they refused to break down so soon in the face of one man.

The examination day neared.

The first day went off peacefully. Professor Das made the invigilators catch 15 students sneaking in scrap notes inside their socks and underpants. They were all made to write the exam an hour after it began. He made repeated rounds after that and could not catch anyone else. The students were stunned out of their nonchalance. Not one dared to lift his head.

The awkward silence that followed as an aftermath of a cheating-less exam, where they had relied so much on books, scrap notes and their professors, only petrified them further. They began realizing the Principal’s powers. They never spoke about it much but the campus got cleaned-up fast that day as the students hurried back home to do something they needed a lot of time to do — study!

The next day the students were less noisy. They were in no freaky moods as they adjusted their searched underpants and socks. Even their palms were scrutinized and belts were taken off, just to be sure. Overnight, they had learned that they comprehended nothing of the subjects they were supposed to be studying so far. A few even did not know what ‘Auditing’ meant, for example.

The exam began. Contrary to the jubilant atmosphere that prevailed earlier, the ambiance was of pin-drop silence.

Professor Das began his tours. He marched up and down the corridor and went back to his office. He hoped to catch some misconduct today, sent someone to life debarment — he chuckled — he felt sadistically powerful. He knew the first hour was not so important. The students would try to answer what all they could. He relaxed sipping his tea and read the newspaper.

The second hour arrived and he began his stroll. He meandered lazily, keeping a hawk’s eye on every nerve. It was almost impossible to catch anyone today. The insouciance students were wearing the most dedicated looks on their faces, most contrary to the reputation this college held. Even the invigilators had grown audacious chests and were beginning to feel the Kings-of-all-they-surveyed.

He roamed to the end of the corridor and peeped in to the bathroom, hoping not to find anyone there too. And then he saw him!

A middle-built student was looking up a book.

“Aha!’’ thought the Principal, finally finding one prized catch.

He tapped the youth softly on his shoulders. The young man was disturbed. He said “Aaah!’’ shrugging his shoulders. Das tapped again. The student, engrossed in his book, shrugged his hand off again. The Principal decide to come straight to the point.

“Name?’’ He said sternly. The youth instinctively shut his book. And instinctively did not turn around.

“Name?!’’ His voice was an octave higher.

“Madan Saha,’’ came the reply.

“Roll number?’’ Das tapped his rolled newspaper on his palm.

“J-153.’’

“Fine. Go back to class.’’ Das marched out both furious and happy at catching his sole fish.

He sipped his second cup of tea and relaxed. The exam time was almost over when he rose with the sadistic smile on his face.

He walked in Room number 1 and scanned the faces. He hadn’t seen the young man’s face much. But he had the name and roll number. That would do.

“Madan Saha!’’ he called out, tapping his feet. No reply. “Roll number J-153.’’ Still no reply. The students looked at each other blankly.

“Sir,’’ said the invigilator, looking up the register. “There’s no Roll number J-153 in this room.’’

“Oh! Then it must be in the next room.’’ He walked into the next room and smiled at the invigilator. “I want to talk to Madan Saha! Roll number J-153!’’

“Yes Sir,” the invigilator said and hurried through the register. He turned back the pages. And turned them over again. “Sir,” he closed the register confidently. “Madan Saha is not inthis class.”

Das was scared by this time. He walked into the third room. Madan Saha and roll number J-153 did not exist in room number 3, 4, 5. The exasperated Principal now walked into room number 6…

The next one-and-a-half hours the frantic Principal marched up and down each room and turned each student’s face to light, “Let’s see your face… let’s see your face…’’

Kaberi Chatterjee

(COPYRIGHT MATERIAL)