<p class="bodytext">We listened to the history lecture by our favourite teacher. Our SSLC exam was only a month away. Just when the class was getting more engaging, the burly head peon of our school interrupted the class with summonses for me from the headmaster. Though we feared the peon more than we feared the headmaster for his sternness, fear gripped me, knowing fully well that the headmaster was also a strict disciplinarian. </p>.<p class="bodytext">I imagined there could be some punishment waiting for me. There were a few backbenchers in my class who often misbehaved with girls and were severely punished. On a few occasions, some innocent boys also got punished just because they were in the company of the offenders. But I had done nothing. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Dragging my feet slowly towards the chambers of the headmaster, I cautiously stepped inside. I stood in silence at a distance as he was busy, afraid of even saying “Sir” to draw his attention. When he finally looked up, I was relieved to find no anger on his face. He asked me, “Don’t you know the last date for payment of fees for appearing in the SSLC examination is drawing to a close shortly? If you don’t pay before the due date, you will not be allowed to appear for the exam. Now you can go.” </p>.<p class="bodytext">My father had passed away only a week ago of heart failure. His untimely death had devastated us both mentally and financially. When I was reminded of the fees, I could not control my sobbing. Hearing my loud crying, the peon whispered something to the headmaster, who paused and promised to help me. I was too embarrassed to seek donations from my classmates. Two days passed, and I was still undecided about seeking donations. On the third day, I was again summoned out of my class, but this time by a postman wanting to deliver a money order to me. Money order? For me? I could not believe it. The postman handed over Rs 15, the exact amount for the examination fees! It was from my brother-in-law in Shivamogga. But how he learned of my inability to pay exam fees, I didn’t know. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Twelve years after I passed SSLC, I was serving in a bank at Yadgir in 1976. I came across an advertisement for the allotment of houses in Shivamogga by the Karnataka Housing Board (KHB) in the Kannada daily, <span class="italic">Prajavani</span>. I immediately filled out an application in my brother-in-law’s name and mailed it to KHB along with a bank demand draft towards the initial deposit.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Six months later, my brother-in-law wrote to me about getting a house allotted to him and wondered how it happened!</p>.<p class="bodytext">I replied, “The same way I got that money order 12 years ago!” </p>
<p class="bodytext">We listened to the history lecture by our favourite teacher. Our SSLC exam was only a month away. Just when the class was getting more engaging, the burly head peon of our school interrupted the class with summonses for me from the headmaster. Though we feared the peon more than we feared the headmaster for his sternness, fear gripped me, knowing fully well that the headmaster was also a strict disciplinarian. </p>.<p class="bodytext">I imagined there could be some punishment waiting for me. There were a few backbenchers in my class who often misbehaved with girls and were severely punished. On a few occasions, some innocent boys also got punished just because they were in the company of the offenders. But I had done nothing. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Dragging my feet slowly towards the chambers of the headmaster, I cautiously stepped inside. I stood in silence at a distance as he was busy, afraid of even saying “Sir” to draw his attention. When he finally looked up, I was relieved to find no anger on his face. He asked me, “Don’t you know the last date for payment of fees for appearing in the SSLC examination is drawing to a close shortly? If you don’t pay before the due date, you will not be allowed to appear for the exam. Now you can go.” </p>.<p class="bodytext">My father had passed away only a week ago of heart failure. His untimely death had devastated us both mentally and financially. When I was reminded of the fees, I could not control my sobbing. Hearing my loud crying, the peon whispered something to the headmaster, who paused and promised to help me. I was too embarrassed to seek donations from my classmates. Two days passed, and I was still undecided about seeking donations. On the third day, I was again summoned out of my class, but this time by a postman wanting to deliver a money order to me. Money order? For me? I could not believe it. The postman handed over Rs 15, the exact amount for the examination fees! It was from my brother-in-law in Shivamogga. But how he learned of my inability to pay exam fees, I didn’t know. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Twelve years after I passed SSLC, I was serving in a bank at Yadgir in 1976. I came across an advertisement for the allotment of houses in Shivamogga by the Karnataka Housing Board (KHB) in the Kannada daily, <span class="italic">Prajavani</span>. I immediately filled out an application in my brother-in-law’s name and mailed it to KHB along with a bank demand draft towards the initial deposit.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Six months later, my brother-in-law wrote to me about getting a house allotted to him and wondered how it happened!</p>.<p class="bodytext">I replied, “The same way I got that money order 12 years ago!” </p>
