Grammar of cricket

Few academic books have enjoyed the cult status of Wren and Martin. This tome was the unrivalled Bible of English grammar. It was your constant companion through school. No one saw a new copy of the book. It was like an heirloom, passed from generation to generation. That Wren and Martin referred to two authors was lost on the students. It was taken as one composite word, the mention of which reminded you of that unmistakable book with a red cover.

They say the roots of education are bitter. To a high-school student, as far as this book was concerned, the roots, shoots and fruits were equally bitter.

The problem began with the size of the book. Once you stuffed Wren and Martin into the school bag, it took up the entire space and refused to budge. It was like the proverbial camel, to whom you gave an inch, and he ended up taking the tent! Secondly, it weighed a ton. The student’s backbone was bent for life, carrying the load like a beast of burden.

Students tried innovative methods. They tore the book into multiple parts. The English teacher was aghast. To her, it was an act of sacrilege. The punishment was swift and severe.

English grammar was tedious. Active and passive voice, prepositions and gerunds were like balls of clay. They had a clear form in isolation, but when rolled together, they coalesced into an amorphous mass, with no distinction whatsoever.

Elders at home claimed to have committed the entire book to memory: ‘Mr so-and-so powdered and drank the entire Wren and Martin like a potion!’ You imagined the aftertaste and felt like asking: ‘Didn’t he have anything better to do?’ It seemed as purposeful as memorising a telephone directory, with the names and the corresponding numbers!

Students loved the book for a different reason. It was thick and best suited for an engaging game called ‘book cricket’. You opened a page at random and the last digit of the page number denoted the number of runs hit by a batsman. If it ended in a zero, the batsman was out.

When the teacher was absent, students played this game for hours. After a year of ‘book cricket’, Wren and Martin was totally worn out.

During the summer vacation, the book lay stacked on the bookshelf. My grandfather was an erudite man. He sifted through its pages. Elated, he said, ‘You have studied Wren and Martin very well. I can discern that from the tattered condition of the book. The knowledge will serve you well in life!’

It was tough to explain ‘book cricket’ to grandpa!