The earth shook... and held together

Col HP Singh (retd) 

IT was a bright autumn day. We were glued to a transistor, listening to the commentary of a cricket match between India and Pakistan being played at Sialkot. It had been a feat to sneak in the pocket-sized transistor into our boarding school to “hear” the match between the then world champion and its arch rival. We were taken aback when the broadcast of the enthralling match stopped abruptly, only to be followed by dreary news on All India Radio. 

We switched off the gadget, to conserve battery. It didn’t strike us then that it was not the normal hour for a news bulletin. It was when our 19th century school bell rang at that odd hour, indicating that the entire school must assemble at the chapel, did we sense that something was amiss. It was when our Headmaster addressed the gathering that we realised something very unfortunate had taken place. Our Prime Minister Indira Gandhi had been assassinated. 

All this while, we had been impervious to the ugly happenings in neighbouring Punjab that had been in turmoil for years. We could now no longer be oblivious of the prevailing situation when we heard horrendous tales of arson, loot and gruesome killings following the assassination. Our mathematics teacher lost a close relative in this mindless violence. I can’t forget the shock and grief on her face. With no cellphones or STD/PCO available those days, anxiety about the wellbeing of our parents and relatives only grew. Telegrams received at the school office were the only way of learning about the safety of our loved ones. 

We had always been taught that we were Indians first and anything else later. Overnight, the fault-lines of faith appeared on the horizon and there was a general atmosphere of anger, suspicion and gloom everywhere. What had happened, and what was happening, was unjustifiable, yet there were views and counterviews leading to unpalatable heated discussions. It was baffling at that impressionable age to differentiate which side was right. 

Those were the days when teachers often went beyond their call of duty. They handled the situation with tact and dexterity. They interacted with us frequently and kept a strict vigil on anyone who showed the slightest tendency of adolescent misadventure. With personal indulgence and mature handling, they were able to impress upon our young minds that “an eye for an eye or a tooth for a tooth” would only make the world a gloomier place. The scourge of communalism was thus nipped in the bud.

When the “big tree fell”, the earth under it did shake, but the tremors could not move the solid foundation laid by those selfless souls. While the whole region was covered with dust, it was our beautiful hilltop school that stood magnificently above this commotion. I salute those unsung heroes, who were institutions in themselves, for saving an entire generation from going astray.