My Old School

"Dad, shall I go for today's newspaper?"
"No, it is not necessary. These days the papers do not contain any important news."

"What! Do you mean to say that there is no news even in independent India?" asked Keshav.

"Shut up! Who do you think you are talking to? You seem to forget yourself. Don't speak to me as if you were speaking to some school friend of yours. I shall have to improve your behaviour for you!" roared the old man angrily. "Yes, what about your studies?" he bellowed. "How have you done in this year's examinations? Where is your progress report?"

This sudden outburst frightened Keshav. " I received it only yesterday, Dad", he replied in a timid voice.

The mention of this progress report reminded old Makardhoj about his school days. Suddenly he felt excited and started prating: "Yes, I too studied in the same Government High School and use to get progress report. So many days have passed since my school days, but I feel it was just like yesterday. You must consider yourself very fortunate studying in the same school where your father studied. I hope that you have been able to keep up the honour of my name and fame in that school by attaining merits and making a good name of yourself. Do you understand! Even today there are still many teachers in that school who taught me. All right."

"Yes Dad, you have told me about this before."
"Silence! Don't interrupt me. This habit of interrupting me when I am talking is a very bad habit of yours. Yes,….. not what way I saying? Oh yes,…I was saying that my son should consider himself most fortunate to be able to study in the school where I studied…It is a great honour. What was I like in that school? Whether in studies or in games,
in any field, I was as good as the best. I remember that final match; how all alone I took the ball from the centre-field and dribbling all my opponents down the field shot the ball like greased lightning straight into the goal. Oh, that great day! How everybody applauded me! How they all shouted Bravo! Bravo!! As a matter of fact, had it not been for me that day, in our school would not have won the shield. But… Along with this great performance, that year I gave as much attention to my studies; do you understand? I stood first in four subjects, understand! In four subjects1" said the old man stroking his moustache in pride.

"Was this in the weekly class test, Dad? Asked Keshav innocently.

Old Makardhoj was outraged and shouted angrily, "No, you fool! In the final examination, the yearly examination. That is why all the teachers praised me affectionately. The Headmaster wrote on my progress report, "a noteworthy progress". Ah! gone are those School days! My old school………….Yes, let me see your report. I hope you have kept up the name and reputation of your father and grand father."

"Yes dad, it is better than the last one", said Keshav, taking out a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket and handing it to his father.

Opening the report the old man said, " Yes, it must be better; it must be much better. Ah! The same form; the seal of Government High School. I too, used to get exactly the same kind of progress report in my time."

Suddenly the old man's face changed. It turned fiery red with anger and he looked terrifying.

"What is this?" he roared. "Failed in Nepali! Zero in Maths. I don't understand. What is the meaning of this? Was it for such results that I spent my hard earned money on your education?"……….

"But Dad…"

"Shut up! You have dashed all my hope to the ground. You have sold my good name," said the old man shaking his walking stick in front of keshav's face. " Again, what is this? Failed in History, too! You dunderhead! Ass! You are going to ruin me. I can't stand it any longer… I cannot keep you with me. What a good name I had left behind at that school. How I not done so people would never have recognised me today as Sri Makardhoj Karki. But the son of such a famous person… a dunderhead!! I shall die of shame because of you."

"But Dad, there is a mistake…"

"Silence! Teachers do not make mistakes. Government does not pay them in order to make mistakes. And what is this? You did not sit for your Science examination? Where did you go that day? Why didn't you give the exam? you rascal! You have blackened my face with shame. Now I will be ashamed to meet any of my old teachers. And your conduct!! You are found fighting with some classmate or other everyday; your Class teacher has given a bad report against you about this. This is unbecoming! Most unbecoming!! It is despicable; it is base, vulgar. Go! Leave my house and go at once. Go, get out of my sight at once. Have your name struck off the school register today. Your schooling is finished as far as I am concerned. Earn your own living. Carry a bamboo basket… become a coolie!' he fumed.

Looking at the progress report the old man moved forward angrily with stick in hand to beat his son.

"Dad, dad, give me a chance to speak… le me explain…." Pleaded Keshav in a subdued voice.

"What will you say? What will you explain? What is there to explain?" Shouted the old man angrily. "My mind is completely shattered. I shall not stay in this place any longer. No more! I shall go to the farthest corner of the world and start a new life all alone. You are evil. You have destroyed me," said the old man as he sorrowfully turned his face away.

"But Dad, this report is not mine. At least give me a chance to speak, too," pleaded Keshav.

"Not yours? If it is not yours then which damn father of yours does it belong to?" he fumed, "Now you are telling lies? Whose name is this on the report?"

The old man turned angrily towards his son and started to read the report out aloud:

"Darjeeling Government High School. Class VI. Makardhoj Karki… What!! Makardhoj Ka…r…ki……".

Like a gramophone whose winding (key) was all but spent, old Makardhoj's voice faded away. The progress report slipped from his fingers and fluttered slowly to the ground. The old man trembled a while and then sat heavily with a thump on the ground. He emitted one long painful sigh.

Keshav, frightened, picked up the report and said quietly "Dad, this progress report is what you got he year you left school in 1925. I found it inside one of your old books only yesterday."
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An Anthology of Nepali Short Stories in English