A summer school day in a tropical city can be fascinating to watch. The school session has different players at work, each dealing with stress their own way and yet having fun with the more ordinary things in life. The actors are deployed on stage and, at the end of the day, are returned to where they came from.
The sun beat down mercilessly on the tropical city. It was midsummer. The fiery red-hot disc was fixed at the twelve o’clock position in an azure blue sky. Puffs of white cloud lay scattered across the horizon, too few and too scattered to make a difference to anything alive. The earth burned with the heat of the midday sun. It was not yet the rainy season. For both man and beast, it was a challenge to seek relief from the sun’s glare from whatever shade was available.
The dark patches of shelter under the trees were luxuries and very expensive. As soon as the space below one was available, it would be immediately taken advantage of and shared by people and stray animals. While deeply grateful for nature’s mercy, the occupants became good at each other’s company. The heat had managed to suck the energy out of everyone seeking shelter, putting them into a drunken stupor.
Life was also difficult for the children trapped as they were in the fifty-odd classrooms. The school was an H-shaped building painted yellow. The open quadrangle at the front of the building was large enough to accommodate about twenty double-decker buses and was about one-fifth the size of the playground at the rear. It was one of the best schools in the city with an enviably sized playground, with a railway line running through the outer walls at the other end.
A large public park was in front of the school, across the street. Perhaps because of the weather, the building was designed with huge windows that were covered with ash-colored iron bars on the outside. Inside were folding wooden panels with glass, which were always rolled back for ventilation. The open space in the front and back of the building made it possible for Mother Nature to wash the classrooms with cool air and dissipate the body heat generated by the forty-odd students who occupied each one.
Although it defied common sense, school authorities designed the summer schedule to start the session earlier than normal and go more than an hour after noon. The idea was to let students get out early so they could beat the heat by going home and staying put. But releasing the children when the sun was at its highest was not exactly the best idea and, in fact, it was counterproductive. From early in the morning, the students began to arrive. The wealthy among them were left in their chauffeur-driven cars, while the less fortunate had to make do with a ride on public transport followed by a short walk.
Interestingly, a percentage of the students were accompanied by highly possessive parents, especially mothers who refused to part with their children, even for the duration of the school session. As soon as their children came running past the silver folding doors, the women hurried to join other mothers’ women’s club. On the long staircase in front of the main entrance, they hung like birds on a transmission line, equally divided on both sides of the door. Yes, they were so colorful and just as talkative. Safe under a roof and in good company, they began their lively conversation bragging about the things they did or didn’t do, which lasted until the end of the school day.
The students were on the receiving end: they had to deal with extreme heat on the one hand and the threat of being gored by textbooks, math, class monitors and teachers on the other. The pursuit of knowledge was damning. Then there was that all-season class bully to contend with. The situation could be overwhelming. The school uniform with the suffocating tie didn’t help either. In high humidity and heat, the buttoned and laced uniform had meandering rivulets of sweat. It wetted the collar first and, in extreme cases, had the backs of the shirts plastered against the bodies wearing them.
Inside the classrooms, relief was available in the form of mechanical contraptions that hummed from the ceiling. The flat metal arms lazily tried to circulate the air in the rooms, in a vain effort to keep tempers calm. Removing the thick blue curtains that covered the windows helped reduce the glare from the sun, which was welcome. However, the fact that teachers constantly spouted complex theories and explanations about an otherwise simple life did not make matters any easier. The only way to accentuate the agony was to ask for a time out to go to the bathroom and hope that recess time would come soon.
A shorter school day meant a shorter lunch break of about half an hour. Most of the students preferred to hang out in the shaded gathering area and eat lunch. Maybe play chess or enjoy a game or two of carrom. But not so for a handful whose sanity and testosterone were severely at the wrong end of the scale. That wild bunch still preferred to play ball in the sun, only to return to class soaking wet as if they’d just been ordered out of the pool.
Two periods after lunch was all it took to finish the day. The electric bell that rang after each period was given a little extra time with two short bursts at the end to signal the death of another school day. That sent the students running out the front door like a marauding army, like angry fire ants emerging from a disturbed anthill. For boys, the weapon of choice would invariably be the ubiquitous wooden ruler, with which they clashed in fencing. Reincarnating the knights of old, they proudly fought for the honor of an unknown beautiful maiden.
The prolonged shriek of the electric bell drew a Pavlovian response from the ladies’ club. They simply jumped to their feet coaxing their limbs to be ready for action. Then, spread out like seasoned cowboys on imaginary saddles, they concentrated on lassoing the foaling colts. Orderly chaos erupted. Although each of the boys scrambled, as a group, they meshed nicely towards the exit, of course pushing and shoving each other on their way out. The collective chatter rips through the air with a deafening roar. The boys are making their presence felt.
Once trapped, the foals were pulled away from the running herd. Bottles of liquid and snacks materialized out of nowhere, to be forced into unpleasantly fighting mouths. The foals were being hydrated for the Calcutta Derby. Then the straw and cloth hats are beaten on their little heads. Until now, the efficiency and economy of movement would put any Army drill sergeant to shame. Now it’s time to race to the finish line, or rather the bus stop, dodging umbrella canopies and bare wooden scimitars along the way.
Grabbing a hand, the mother leads the way with her son in tow. As usual, Junior would be looking in the wrong direction with no apparent intention of keeping up with Mom’s pace or direction. A quick flick of the arm holding the boy’s hand was all it took for her to correct course in this sea of human traffic. His goal now was to board the first bus. Her main concern was not to step on the tar that melts on the road in the summer sun, lest she be forced to leave the printed shoe behind.
The uniformed doorman has the unenviable task of monitoring and matching students with their parents or chaperones to ensure their safe return home. He takes a look at those around the shaved ice cart vendor to realize that they are the arrogant type who regularly come home alone. The crowd has thinned out considerably by then. He waits patiently for the last of the stragglers to leave the front compound before closing the double iron gates and calling it a day.
The cacophony subsides as an eerie silence makes a soft landing.