Alvin squirmed like a worm on a hook. His whole body wished to escape from the impending doom. The image of M.S. Dhoni rose in his mind. But Alvin, though a Dhoni fan, was not quite as cool as his hero. As the Std. IX A parent-teacher meeting queue dwindled, Alvin felt that he was batting bat-less in the final over of a Twenty20 match. Yet he was not ready to retire hurt. Not yet.
Alvin had an idea. Necessity, as he had heard Mrs. Indira, his English teacher say, is the mother of invention. Even he paid attention in class every now and then.
An angry father
“Dad, you are such an important man,” said Alvin, “Don’t waste your precious time on this meeting. I will manage this”.
Unfortunately, Alvin’s googly was spotted early. Dad’s eyes blazed fire.
“You score in single digits. I will change your school,” said Dad.
“But my school is the best in town,” said Alvin
“Don’t you understand? I will get a TC from this school and admit you to a school with the state syllabus. Actually a play school would be the best for you. No point in spoiling this school’s name. And mine”
“But this is my school. I love my school. You can’t change it just like that” said Alvin in the heat of the moment.
Then he wondered if he had gone too far. Dad was silent for a space. “Well, I have almost decided. Anyway let me hear what your teacher has to say”
Alvin’s heart sank. Mrs. Indira would have her say. She had been waiting for this parent teacher meeting. Mrs. Indira was the teacher who had famously said “All will win except Alvin” when Alvin had come up with a particularly silly answer. The entire class had laughed uproariously. Even his friends, the backbenchers.
From then on Alvin heard “All will win except Alvin” so often that it became the unofficial slogan of IX A. Alvin sincerely believed that it was not his fault. The fault lay in the syllabus, at least according to Alvin. Geography should be about cricket grounds like the Lord’s or the Melbourne cricket ground. History should focus on the deeds of masters like Bradman and Gavaskar. Maths should be all about bowling and batting averages, which are the figures that make cricket. Dad had not heard the slogan of IX A so far but that looked set to change. Sweat ran down Alvin’s face like a fielder after a ball.
Sohail’s mother, who stood behind them, said, “ Sohail didn’t get A+ in Maths. What a tragedy!”
Dad came dangerously close to snorting. “A tragedy,” he said, “I will tell you about a real tragedy.” He glanced at Alvin.
Mrs. Indira’s googly
At that critical moment, Mrs. Indira rapped the table with her duster. Their turn had come. Alvin moved towards Mrs. Indira and his fate, like a defeated captain, with halting steps. Her eyes were as cold as a cricket ground in winter, as she looked at him. She pointed to a chair. Dad sat like a batsman in the pavilion chair after scoring a duck.
Mrs. Indira said, “All will win.” Alvin’s head spun, as if he had been hit by a bouncer. There was more to come.
“Eh” said Dad.
“All will win. So will Alvin,” said Mrs. Indira. Alvin’s heart jumped for joy. Dad staggered back in his chair. This had clearly come as a shock to him.
“You must be talking about some other Alvin,” said Dad, shaking his head. Surely, there must be another Alvin in Std. IX A.
“There is only one Alvin,” she replied.
Alvin thought that she would add “and that is more than enough” but she didn’t. Dad looked at Alvin with wild hope. For a moment, Alvin wondered if he was dreaming. He pinched himself. No, he wasn’t dreaming. Dad, however, didn’t give up.
“His marks are in the red,” said Dad.
“The boy has potential. Marks don’t show everything. Yes, I have high hopes of him. I expect him to shine in the final exams”.
Mrs. Indira nodded to indicate that the meeting was at an end. Dad had a dazed expression on his face. At that moment, Alvin felt great admiration for the faith Mrs. Indira had placed in him. Then and there, he vowed to put his heart and soul into his studies.
But would he? Only time would tell.
_
