Whimsical 16: Cutie Birdies

 On the way to school, he drew my attention to a flock of swallows in the sky while waiting at the traffic juncture. It was a sight to behold. A long horizantal zigzag line of swallows that adorned the air- a stream of tiny dots at the backdrop of a clear light blue sky, trying to form a kolam pattern..It was a mesmerising view. And there were so many of them forming several Vs. 

I was awestruck and commented, " Vow! How many of them in a single flock da!"  He started raving about them immediately - "Amma! You'll be surprised to know that they can form a flock of as big as 3 cars!". "IS IT?" I asked, and continued, "You mean the size of an aircraft?". "Yes Amma, the size of a A380. Can you imagine?", the modulation in his voice evoking enthusiasm and astonishment. 

Then he continued, "Do you know that actually starlings also use the airport runway to take off?" I laughed loud, "Deeeiii". "Real ma. True. True". The adoration for a supposed naughtiness still lingering in my voice,  I asked playfully, "Won't they be hit by aircrafts?". "They can see all around them and are intelligent to protect themselves", he claimed. "Oh! Are they able to turn their heads 360degrees?" "No ma! Their eyes are on the sides of their face. They can see on their front, back and either sides.", He replied rather enthusiastically.

And continued, "Actually birds with eyes on their sides are very cute. Like starlings and robins. They are unlike owls who have their big eyes on the front". He cupped his palm in admiration, "they are ssssoooo cuuuute".

There we reached school and it was time for his new experience.

As I molt.

 This happened so long ago, nobody can say how long ago. For I was a seventh standard student at my most favourite school at that time. A topper straight through my primary school, I was slipping in my academics from seventh grade. 

Well, let me share a secret: I was actually slipping in academics from my sixth grade, but my parents didn't know that as I was competing against a group of academics-slipping-kids, who were benchmarking against me. It was an avalanche: when I slipped, all my classmate's confidence slipped and they began to believe that academics was getting harder in high school. Yeah, I was an influential leader ever since primary (give me a sec. Yeah, I'm done lifting up my collar).

So, I was in seventh grade. Our school was like a guiding light on top of a hill- aloof and bright amidst a pool of similar looking, similar smelling schools with ancient teachers. Our guiding light was young and energetic, ripening with teachers who were passionately just starting their careers, trying hard to leave no room unturned to show the world that they were raising the world's most intelligent, most competitive, precious kids.

Ha ha, kidding! They were only trying hard. They didn't know the secrets of the wild world (themselves hailing from humble backgrounds, understandably, considering the locality and compensation) and hadn't yet figured out the formula for success and competitive exams. To top all their woes, we were the only CBSE school in the whole district- and the CBSE board had very optimistically blessed the school just a couple of years ago.

In this context, the management decided to offer its students a precious opportunity to attend the Indian Olympiad. As we were the only CBSE school in the township, they decided to register us at a school in the neighbouring district. The school bus would ferry us to the venue on the day of exam. Interested students can register and make a payment with their respective class teachers. We knew nothing about the value of an Olympiad. Neither were we briefed about the structure of the exam or the ranking process -we had absolutely zero idea about what the exam is about, except that it was a Science exam!

Considering the dearth of, rather lack of exposure to an outside world, the idea of a visit to the neighbouring district was enticing. So, a group of our friends decided to join the "excursion". We cajoled our parents - most of them working parents, but ofcourse were equally ignorant of what the exam was about. My parents (both teachers) were vehemently against the idea of me going to attend a "Quiz Competition". What?! How could I compromise my preparation for an upcoming midterm test, which is the one and only channel of my laurels. Well, I'm sure you get the misnomer!! 

I put up a blackmailing fight, consumed some maruthaani that was prepared for decorating the palms of the women in the household. It was very scary and so I ate only a pinch of it that was sticking to the coconut shell. I went straight to my dad, who was just snacking on the Diwali muruku and athirasam after returning from work and told him in a rather feeble voice, "I'm scared I'd die. I consumed maruthaani".

He had to forego his snack, poor man and hurried me to the doctor, who happened to be my maternal uncle. The uncle understood the folly and advised my father to budge to any requests I could have made, lest I make any more drama and waste his time. That's when my dad said- oh! She had asked to appear for some test in the neighbouring district and I denied it. The uncle immediately blurted, "it's only a test, let her go!". Not to mention, he was equally ignorant of the exam. 

So, with my blackmail a success, the bunch of us friends packed lunch and set off for the exam on a Sunday. It was a refreshing bus ride. Inside my exam hall, I was completely baffled by the structure of the exam, cowered due to incompetence and felt more so ashamed of my lack of expertise in Science. But I said a word not! We ate the puliyotharais and lemon rice with coconut thogaiyal and puli thogaiyal, boarded the bus back and returned back home.

A month later, I was rather ashamed when I received a letter telling that I secured 1089 rank all India in the test. 1089!!! So there are 1088 more competent students throughout the country. Alright! I'm surely a nothing in the country. However I was also super surprised because some of my better performing classmates hadn't received any letter- probably, their letters were missed in some postal track, I believed. 

The story was long forgotten. Today, as my son grows up as a citybred kid, I am running helter skelter to provide him opportunities to shine and show his light to the world. There is a "preparation" involved, with study materials and home based mock tests, briefing on the exam pattern, the answer sheet structure and me solving problems for him to show that if I can do it, he can certainly do it. Although I worry less about his ranking, I do keep him nudging about 

As I look back, I am rather proud of my Olympiad rank, given my circumstances. I'm sure a whole lot of the first few ranks had some kind of training, atleast knew what Olympiad was about. So, after a few decades of securing 1089 rank in Indian Science Olympiad, I molt- wearing down my garment of shame and holding my head up with a dazzling garment of pride.

Transformation

I assumed transformation is like
Jumping from one terrain to another
-Sullen grey to sunshiny yellow:
Through a few sudden, quick spins.

Until I recently realized
It is walking, sometimes even crawling,
As we wade through mundanities
- in spurts of miniscule drifts. 

Same outcome, different paths

Today I narrated the Rumi story about a talking parrot, oil and bald head. The story goes like this: A shopowner pets a talking parrot that talks a lot and increases businesses for the shopowner by being enticingly talkative. One day, when the shopowner goes for lunch leaving the shop in the responsibility of the parrot, the parrot is petrified by a black cat that visits the shop. Anxious and in an effort to save itself, it flies very disoriented and ends up breaking several pots of oil and drenches in the high density oil (increasing its wings weight and making it incapable of flying?). The shopowner, on his return, is very frustrated with the state of his shop and beats the bird blue, plucking most of its crown feather. The bird goes bald and silent as a result. The shopowner repents and tries to woo the parrot into talking again - all his efforts in vain. Until a day a bald man visits the shop, when the parrot asks the man, "Did you also pour oil on yourself, and became bald as a result?"

After narrating the story, I concluded with, "But, you see, although outcomes could be the same, the paths could be different". 

You suddenly spurted, "just like: 6+4 is also 10, 5+5 is also ten".