Was he a good teacher or a good human being?

Year 1992

“ATTENTION”, Mr. Jadhav, a six feet tall, heavily built man, wearing a safari suit, shouted at the top of his voice. The most feared person in the school, Mr. Jadhav, was the sports teacher, Social Studies teacher and also drawing teacher.

You must be surprised to know that in remote villages, a teacher takes almost all the subjects even today. There lies the tragedy of our education system.

National anthem started and the entire school went motionless. This scene can still be seen in rural parts of India. Personally I feel that patriotism is more in the blood of rural people than those of people living in metros. In metro cities, patriotism can be seen only on Independence Day and on Republic Day. In the presence of Mr. Jadhav, nobody would even dream to insult the school assembly in any way. That was my first day to school.

I was admitted to that school because of some family circumstances. Before that, I was in a convent school. As Shakespeare says in his sonnet ‘Not Marbles Nor the Gilded Monument’ the time is sluttish. The time acts as a slut who is not faithful to anyone. Time wasn’t faithful to my destiny as well. Let bygone be bygone.  On the first day of my new school, I learnt one thing that I should be very careful of this beast called Mr. Jadhav. My cousin Vishal had been in the same school since KG. That day at home he told me many things about Mr. Jadhav and the punishment he gave to students.

As I was new to that school, I didn’t have my school dress ready. My aunt, Vishal’s mother, gave me his old school dress. She nicely patched the torn shorts at the buttocks with some other piece of cloth. I never thought in my life till that time that I had to wear someone else’s clothes and that to of this condition. My mind wasn’t ready to wear those clothes and to accept that I had a bad time. But, I knew that I had no option left with me.

The school I was in before this municipal corporation school was a boy’s convent school. My school dress was always clean and nicely pressed. My school shoes were always shining and I always used to have tiffins for small break and long break. Really, the time was sluttish for me. But this school was co-ed. The school had both boys and girls. Boys and girls used to sit in the same class and study.

I was a bit conscious about girls as this was my first co-ed school. So, I was a bit hesitant so, I decided not to tuck my shirt so that it would cover the patch on my school’s short.

During the assembly, some other guy was giving the orders. Mr. Jadhav wasn’t there. National Anthem started and things went motionless as usual. National Anthem got over and someone from behind hit my naked legs with bamboo stick. I crashed down in pain. One, two, three and no stop rain of those bamboo sticks made me cry in front of all the girls and boys. It was Mr. Jadhav who hit me. Before I could understand what went wrong my face was red with blood and wet with tears. “Come and meet me in the staff-room”, shouted Mr. Jadhav.

I was made to stand outside the staff room. Mr. Jadhav was giggling with other teachers inside the staffroom. Thousand of thoughts were born in my mind and I was trying to kill each one of them. For a moment I thought to take the brick lying next to me and break Mr. Jadhav’s head. I looked at those marks on my legs. Those blood marks made me aware how much my parents love me as they had not even shouted at me.

“Hey you? Come inside.” The commanding voice of Mr. Jadhav dominated my anger and my thoughts. I went inside the staff room.

“What’s your name?

“Amit Kharat”, I replied with my head down and tears rolling down my face.

“Class?”

“Sixth A”

“New admission?”

“Yes.” I was still sobbing.

“From which school you came here?” The voice turned louder and angrier.

“Ornellas High School, Pune.”

“So, you are from a city school. But it doesn’t mean that this school will tolerate every nonsense thing you will do. Don’t you know the school rule that you have to tuck your shirts inside?”

“Yes sir, I know.”

“Then why didn’t you tuck your shirts? Answer me.” He shouted louder than last time.

I didn’t answer. He shouted but no answer from me.

“Because my short is torn at the buttock. I was feeling ashamed.” I cried loudly. I sobbed for a long time.

The entire staff room wore the grave yard silence. I couldn’t see in any of the teacher’s eyes but I could smell that silence.

“Go back to your class” are the only words I could hear from Mr. Jadhav.

I went to class. I didn’t wash my face. There were marks of tears on my face and marks on my legs. As well as I entered the class, everyone started staring at me. I was completely broken.

In the last period, school peon came and told me that Mr. Jadhav had called me. I went to the staff room with my head down.

“Tomorrow come early to school. Come around 10.30 in the morning”, said Mr Jadhav but this time in a milder tone.

I was too stubborn by this time. I thought to myself, “What more would you do Mr. Jadhav. You are not going to kill me here.” I was ready for the endless punishments.

The next day, I went to school at 10.30 in the morning. Mr. Jadhav was there waiting for me. He took me in the parking area, took his cycle and asked me to sit behind on the carriage. I did what he said. There was a fear I mind what would happen but I was too devastated to think of that.

Mr. Jadhav took me to the town market. The town market was around three kilometers from the school. He took me in a cloth shop, and bought a pair of school dress for me. “Now, wear this new school uniform from tomorrow onwards”, he said with the kindest voice I have ever heard from anyone. I sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed till we reached school.