I was watching Prakash Jha’s Hindi movie Pareeksha recently. It is the story of a rickshaw puller named Bucchi, who strives endlessly to give his talented son, Bulbul, the best possible education. Even the poor have dreams—dreams for their children. They want their children to come up in life, get a good education, and become successful human beings. They don’t want their children to undergo the hardships they have faced in life. Bucchi understood that providing good education to his son was the only way to realize his dreams. He shifts his son from the government state board school to a CBSE-pattern convent school. From being an honest rickshaw puller, he becomes a thief in order to pay the hefty fees of this top convent school in the city. The story ends on a happy note, with his son topping the Class 10 board examination and making his parents proud.
This movie brought back my childhood memory of the struggle for admission into Kendriya Vidyalaya, which is considered one of the best CBSE schools in the country at affordable fees. My elder brother and sister were already studying in KV. After completing my LKG and UKG, it was my turn to join this prestigious legacy of becoming a KV student. But it was not a cakewalk for me. Struggle has been a part of my life since that early childhood.
As I started my LKG before completing three years (being September born), I was not yet five years old for admission to Class 1 as per the cutoff date for admission to KV. My dad was told to come next year for admission when I completed five years or seek admission in a private school. My dad and many other dads of those days knew the value of education in Kendriya Vidyalaya. So, taking admission in a private school was out of the question. I was at home for one whole year.
Children usually forget what they have learned if they don’t revise it often. My dad’s favorite example of motivating us to study regularly was that of a footpath amid a grassland. The footpath is visible only when people walk on it regularly. Once people stop walking on it, the grass overgrows, and the path is lost in the wilderness. So is our brain. If you study and revise regularly, it will remain sharp and be the pathway to your success. But if you don’t use your brain regularly, lethargy and inactivity will take over just like the grass and weeds, leading to failure. Just like Bucchi in the movie Pareeksha, my dad too brought me many books to read at that young age. He would ensure that I studied daily even though I was not going to school.
One year flew by, and admission time to KV was again nearing. But somehow, my dad didn’t know the exact date of admission. The reason for this, I don’t know and can’t find out from him now, as he is no more. All I remember is that on the fateful day of admission, I was at my grandparents’ home in the nearby village named Mittanamallee. It was probably 6–7 kilometers from KV AFS Avadi, where my dad was seeking my admission.
As my dad was crossing near the school area on his cycle, he saw many parents with their children near the school. He asked them what was going on and was informed that the admission test was taking place in KV. He got so worried—how could he have missed this information? He rushed home on his bicycle to take me for the admission test before it began. But I was not at home! The neighbors informed him that my mom had gone to her parents’ place in Mittanamallee, and I had tagged along with her.
Unlike the present times of aloofness, back then, neighbors knew everything happening in their neighborhood. I can very well imagine how my dad would have cursed and used his favorite mother-sister swear words! Time was running out, and he had to fetch me from my grandparents’ home and take me to the school for the admission test. And all he had was his bicycle. If only I could measure the speed at which he rode his bicycle that day…
It must have been around 9:30 am (I am not sure, just guessing). My dad never liked coming to his in-laws’ house, and here he was, standing at the door, fully drenched in sweat, his shirt sticking to his body, and his breathing heavy from the speed at which he had ridden his bicycle. He shouted at my mom for coming over to her parents’ place unannounced and asked her to get me ready immediately. I still remember the stress and tension in his voice, as he was worried that he had already kept me at home for one year for this admission test and didn’t want me to miss it at any cost.
In a jiffy, he put me on the small baby seat on the bar in the front of the cycle (between the handle and the rider’s seat), and off he went with me. My grandmother was just coming with a glass of water for my dad, but he didn’t wait to have it. From Mittanamallee to KV AFS Avadi, that was the fastest cycle ride ever that I had experienced, and it remains well etched in my memory. His legs did not rest or slow down one bit at any junction or steep point. Ringing the cycle bell continuously as we crossed the marketplace, we were almost flying on that cycle that day.
We reached the school just in time, as the exam was about to begin. The teacher in charge probably knew my dad but scolded him for coming at the last minute. Nevertheless, she allowed me to sit with the other children taking the admission test. My dad was ready to tolerate any high-handedness just to ensure that I got admitted to KV.
I did not let my dad down. When the results of the admission test were put on the notice board, my name was at the top of the list, having secured the highest marks in the test, despite not attending regular school for one whole year. I still remember how my dad proudly retold this story of me getting the highest marks in the admission test. But he never once mentioned how he rode the bicycle that day or how much struggle he underwent. That was my dad.
That cycle ride with him still remains unforgettable.