Shadow of a school, once vibrant

LN Dahiya

About 63 years ago, I was admitted to grade VI at Government Middle School in a village in Sonepat district. I fondly cherish the memory of my school and its teachers, particularly Balbir Singh, our science teacher and incharge of extracurricular activities. He was highly respected as well as much feared in the school. His pedagogy was focused, organised and engaging. He was also a  disciplinarian. In the morning assembly, he would rush to conduct the prayer. Later, he would inspect students for hygiene, carrying with him a flexible jaal stick that worked like a whip. He would first shout at the errant students and then corporal punishment came naturally to those found lacking in clean uniform and nails, and neat hair. Sometimes, he would call a barber to tonsure the heads of students with long hair. There was no restriction on harsh punishment in schools during those times. He firmly believed in the maxim: spare the rod and spoil the child.

One day, after nearly 37 years since my departure from school, he visited my residence in 1996 for some work. I was heading MD University as its Vice-Chancellor. Before welcoming him, I reassured myself that my clothes, teeth, thinning hair and nails were all in good form! Throughout the meeting, I remained conscious. It appeared to me as if he was closely inspecting me. Such was the lasting impression of the teachers of yore on students.

He died at the age of 82, in 2008. On learning of it, I became nostalgic and my eyes filled up. Indeed, he was not only a great teacher, but also an educator par excellence. To fulfil his wish, and my promise, I visited my old school at Bidhlan, incognito. At first glance, I found the school altogether different, disarranged and in a total mess. Classrooms were empty, there was no sign of extracurricular activities, and no tree left under whose leafy canopy we used to relish our traditional lunch during recess. All I could see was a group of four-five teachers stretching their legs on a table and few students, oblivious of their surroundings, engaged in playing ‘pilo-goli’ in the school courtyard. 

The good old days of my school, which once excelled in academics and sports, flashed before my eyes. Engrossed in my thoughts and completely submerged in nostalgic memory, the feeling that overwhelmed me was akin to a child being orphaned. Shockingly, there are only 230 students on its rolls, against over 700 during the 1950s. Alas! teachers like Balbir Singh have become extinct today, and a majority of them are like a round peg in a square hole. My old school has come full circle, only to confront the real threat of survival in the times ahead. I quickly made my way out, bidding adieu to my alma mater, quite dispirited,  and with moist eyes.