The chemist was half asleep, and took an unconscionable time in dispensing the medicine, with the result that when I reached the station, the train had just started.
When I was in class 11th, my English teacher came up with the generous idea of helping her "not-interested-in-English Science students" achieve the perfect SAT scores by providing a daily list of five "difficult vocabulary" words. She'd assign the task to one student everyday who would come up with the list of five words, their meanings, obviously, and an example sentence for each.
Naturally, I was pretty excited about my turn. I had been in the habit of "collecting" favourite "difficult" words since a couple of years at least, on the advice of previous English teachers, in a tiny notebook that I still possess but sadly don't update. In any case I was (and still am, sort of) a voracious reader, and the dictionary was much loved friend. In fact, I'd deviate from my usually modest ways and claim, that at the of sixteen, my vocabulary was probably better, much better, than 90% of my peers. If not use with ease, I could identify with ease, most of the "difficult" words. And I couldn't wait to show off.
By the time we finally got round to my turn, I was reading My Experiments with Truth by MK Gandhi. The same copy, in fact, which we had as part of our English syllabus in class 7, a few years ago. We had to read only a few chapters for the class, which was a relief, honestly, because even I, with my prodigious reading skills, was unable to plough through the unbelievably ponderous book. Well, here I was, at sixteen, giving it another go. In fact, it was turning out to be mighty interesting and I'd even found several nice new words to add to my notebook. I wanted to use at least one of them in my little class assignment. Yes, you guessed right, I picked the word "unconscionable" (adj.: unreasonably excessive), and pretty much the exact same sentence "The chemist took an unconscionable time in dispensing the medicine." I was rather proud of having found such an unusual word, and I was certain that not many, except the teacher, would have heard it before.
The other four words I don't quite remember, but they were two words each from two 'root' families. Unusual words, of course. I'm certain piquant and pique were two.
I knew I was taking a risk with having basically three words on my list, but they were good, honest, hardworking words that I'd just met and become rather friendly with. About unconscionable I had no worries. That was a word I'd found in an Indian, almost popular context. Unconscionable was my trump card, there was no doubt it would steal the show.
Obviously, it didn't. The teacher was unimpressed, the classmates wore their customary blank expressions, and finally after debates about the usages of previous four words ("They're too similar."), unconscionable just...failed to make the mark. The sentence was, and I quote (I still hear the words in my head some times) "too simple for such a huge word". It elicited more debates and in a class where I wasn't exactly popular, the blank faces quickly animated up to decry the word.
When the bell finally rang, I slunk to the back of the class, next to the nice large windows, my usual place in that room. To my surprise, and much gratitude, some of the second-to-last-benchers told me they really liked my words, and that they agreed with my usage of them. They didn't go so far as to criticize the teacher, as a 'friend' would do, but their words were balm to a wounded soul.
I didn't dwell much on it at that time, I merely returned to the book. Later, I would find many more reasons to hate the teacher, the classmates, and basically the entire Education system. Regarding the teacher specifically, the next year she would strike off my name in front of my eyes from a list of selections to a prestigious board, on the ground that the principal "did not like the fact that most selections were from one section only" (then fucking don't make "superability" sections, no?). In fact, she carefully went over it with a whitener and wrote my best friend's name in a very neat handwriting. My best friend was in a different section, and I was extremely happy for her. But the whole thing hurt. Back then, it really did.
Part of growing up is the realization that there are things that are simply beyond your control, and all you can do is make the best of what you have. Looking back, the choices I eventually made had very little to do with the English Language, the SAT's or MUN's. There was a time I really wanted to take up English Literature as my major. I ended up taking Physics, flunked twice, and today the only situation I can imagine having any use for my University degree is if I were to be stuck on a deserted island with it and needed something to burn. Yet,given the choice (or a time machine) I would not take the SAT's again, the English major or participate in that many MUN's. What I would do is go back with the realisation that college professors are still not going to teach me anything, and the only reason I'm there in that college, in that course, in that lab, is because I want to be there, because I love Physics. Instead of wanting to run away, I would want to be there, I would participate.
Why am I writing all this today? After all these years? The simple reason is that I attended an English class today. To make a long story short, I have the following observations:
1. English teachers are, in general, a depraved species. You tell them the correct answers, they disregard you, screw with yours and everybody else's mind till you give another answer, and then finally tell you that your original answer was correct, except that you should have used fancier words like past participle.
2. It is probably easier to learn a foreign language from scratch than your own mother tongue again.
3. Language gives you wings. I firmly believe that every single person on this planet should master at least one language completely. It wouldn't matter what your IQ or EQ or noble ideas are if you can't understand or be understood. You learn that one language in school, learn it with all your heart, become a grammar nazi, and everything in this world will be yours, my son.
4. In that respect, CBSE disappoints. If I were to, er, be responsible for a child's education, I'd send them to an ICSE school, on top of a hill preferably. I have a lot of other ideas with regard to this imaginary child's education.
5. Which brings us to the fact, oft repeated, that our education system, to put it rather simplistically, sucks.
6. Sitting in class today, recalling every occasion I'd had an argument with an English teacher, I couldn't but help notice a pattern. That day, in class 11th, I'd deviated from the acceptable and almost standard list of "difficult" SAT words. I'd gone a little off the path, probably not come up with words that would be of much use in a certain exam. Another incident I recalled was in class 10th, much to my amusement, I got an English answer wrong. Yes, there was a cross mark there, in my English notebook. This incident, however, I look back with fondness. The question was about the appearance of the ghost of Jacob Marley. If you remember, he had a chain around him and the chain, made of cash boxes and such, would clang about. The answer required from me was that it was a metaphor for greed or something or the other. However, I had loved the imagery that Dickens had evoked so much, that I analysed everything quite literally, without mentioning any metaphors at all. While writing the answer, I knew my teacher would hate it, since she had already discussed it in class, but I didn't quite expect an "x" in my notebook. In both the cases, all I had done was deviate from the already decided pattern. We, the students of English language, are fatalists, yes.
7. I am terribly glad that I have a degree in Science, even if it took me five years to get it. I'm not saying that there wasn't a certain fatalism even in this course (predictable question papers that I would almost deliberately and sadistically flunk in), but at least my mind is free from the shackles of ideologies and theories and a certain, I don't know how to put this, a certain smugness or nobleness or I-know-it-all-ness that I observe in people who studied Humanities subjects. My mind, is in fact, quite a free and empty place overall. XD
8. Patience is a virtue. You have finally reached the end of this post. Congratulations. I love you.
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