Geetanjali Krishna: The exam drops out

PEOPLE LIKE THEM

It's only an exam," said my friend Mahima consolingly, "don't get so tense!" She was talking to 18-year-old Suresh, who was cramming for his Class ten boards through the National Open School.

"I can't help it, didi," said he despairingly, "with a full time job, I've not been able to study at all throughout the year! Now I've taken ten days off, and have to complete my English, Hindi and Business Studies books in that time! You've got to help me!"

Some years ago, Suresh had been rescued from the streets of Delhi by an NGO, penniless and underage. He was now hell-bent on completing his studies, because he said he wanted to be able to talk in English, learn computers and generally further his job prospects. Touched by his ambition, Mahima told him to come everyday to her office, so that he could study undisturbed everyday, and she could be around to clear his doubts.

The first day he came, it was Mahima who was having doubts "" she was sure that there was no way he could pass his exams. Even though Suresh had cleared his Class 8 board exams (also through Open School) he could not even solve the Class Four English workbook.

She realised, to her consternation, that he could not speak English, and could barely write and read. He was only marginally better off in Hindi, and Business Studies was a mystery to them all. So her entire office was roped in to help Suresh somehow pass his exams. He studied from 9.30 am to 6.30pm everyday, with one employee teaching him Hindi, and another one, a Bihari, giving him tips on how to buy a college degree instead of wasting his time studying for exams.

"I'm so grateful to be able to study without children screaming over my head," Suresh told Mahima after a few days, "the NGO that took me off the streets has now employed me as a coordinator of vocational training. It's a good job, but leaves me with little time to study peacefully!" She could see that his hard work was showing some positive results, and urged him to work harder and harder as the exam approached.

The final two days of preparation were tense and work-filled, as every regular office activity took a backseat to helping Suresh. The day of the exam dawned, and Mahima was the one with butterflies in her stomach. She anxiously made Suresh promise that he'd report how he'd performed as soon as the paper was over. But he landed up long before that.

"What happened?" she asked, "why have you returned so early? Was the paper so tough?" He looked downcast and shook his head, "the exam was cancelled. Apparently the paper had leaked." All his pep seemed to have vanished, "we don't even know when the exam is scheduled for. I've exhausted all my leave as well as my will to study any further," said he.

Even though the exam authorities had decided to cancel the exam two days before, they had not bothered to inform the candidates. "I'm really surprised that the newspapers, who always report leaked exam papers "" be they of medical entrance tests or of university exams "" overlooked this news!" said my friend, feeling desperately sorry for Suresh. "I guess open school is not important enough," said he sadly, "after all, it's only people like me who are enrolled in it "" and whether we actually manage to take the exam, let alone pass or fail, is of no interest at all to anyone else!"