Eternal Wait For The Signature

Braving the hot evening sun beating mercilessly upon me, I started my long lonely walk towards my home back from school. Reminiscing the days happenings in my school,a big smile spread across my face and even the weighty school bag which hung from my shoulders felt light. Though the hunger pangs slowed down my pace, my anxiety to share the day's happenings with my family accelerated my sluggish walk.


Though that morning started just like any other day, my nightmares started the moment I saw my class teacher stepping in to the class room. Even as I admired my teacher looking graceful in her pink starched cotton saree,it was the big bunch of yellow report cards she carried along with the attendance register that created a severe panic attack in me.The reason?


Those red lines under the marks in the mark sheet denoting failure in the subjects along with the teacher's remark "incorrigible" not only marred the beauty of the card but also fetched heavy lashings, both verbal and physical from my teacher as well as my father.


Having had my initial education in English, the transfer of my father's job from Bombay to Chennai knocked out all my enthusiasm of going to a school, when I learnt that I would be studying in a Tamil medium school in Chennai.


Not fluent in Tamil I had great difficulty in mixing with class mates in my new school, but more than that the subjects that were taught in Tamil sounded Greek and Latin to me.Thus with single digit marks in all the subjects staring at me, I grew despondent, with nobody to help me. But my grandpa who used to visit us during weekends understood my problem and thus started my lessons in Tamil starting from alphabets. With his help I slowly picked up the nuances of the language and the report card started looking bright with marks minus the red under lines.


But still my anxiety continued since I was terribly scared of those merciless thrashings, endless sermons, barrage of questions, doubts, which came from all sides, along with the elegant mark sheet. So when the Teacher asked me to stand facing the entire Class I felt more like a sacrificial lamb, with a racing pulse and ashen face. Having handed the report card, she patted me affectionately and asked the entire class to give me a standing ovation for having stood first in the class and also one for progressing from an incorrigible student to a brilliant one through sheer hard work. I was utterly speechless but for once I could look at my classmates with less complex and more pride in my eyes. With racing thoughts I never knew how and when I reached home.


As I stepped in to my house I noticed the bike which my father rode to his office standing in the balcony with lots of shoes and slippers near the door, things which were quite unusual. I kept my bag in the drawing room and taking out my report card I rushed in to the room.


When I saw my dad lying on a cot with lots of his friends surrounding him,with an ice pack on his forehead, giving sermons about national issues in his impeccable English but not recognising me, I was totally devastated. I stood frozen with fear near him clutching my mark sheet tightly without realising that he was in a state of delirium.The same night he was admitted to a big hospital and when I saw him the next day he was attached to myriad tubes. Looking at his pathetic condition, tied as he was with tubes and wires, crying out in pain, me and my grandpa would cry our hearts out in the long corridors of the hospital.


After a few days when the tubes were removed I along with my grandpa went to see him at the hospital. He was cheerful and could recognise me. He called me near him, but trembling with fear I was reluctant to go near him. My grand pa took me close to him and then with some courage I told my dad how I had stood first in the class for the first time. He placed an affectionate kiss on my forehead and asked me to work hard in future and never be put off by hurdles. I bid him good bye and that was the last time I saw him alive.


My life went in for a tumble with the sudden demise of my young dad. It was a roller coaster ride all the way with no time to think of the future, shaking the basic foundations of our existence.There were centums, distinctions and laurels my future academics garnered, but nothing could match the emotional bond I had with the unsigned dog eared yellow report card, which still holds a special place in my heart.


Whenever I am disheartened I take the yellow report card out and think of my dad and recall his precious words. His warm hug and the untold miseries he had to undergo fighting a valiant battle with death gives me immense courage to face any challenge that comes in my way. As I close the card, tears rolling down my cheeks fill up the blank space in the card.