Probity begins at home

I still vividly remember this episode from my schooldays, because of the impression it left on me; impression that has been lasting as well as motivating my action. The experience was linked up with my being the class prefect and it began in a rather routine way.

It was mid-afternoon as we awaited the arrival of the “drill master”, that is the teacher who engaged us in physical training. Being the last period in the day’s schedule this was most appropriate in the sense that it provided relaxation to the mind while making the body exert itself. Moreover, the drill class was held out in the open air and so took us away from our constrained seating positions of five hours.

Welcome though the drill class was, there was another alternative which was all the more welcome, namely the option of no class. And that option seemed more probable as the drill master did not show up for the first five minutes. Some impatient boys started insisting that as prefect I should find out if the drill-class was taking place at all. Of course, they had a hidden agenda which was only too clear to me. Nevertheless, as they became more persistent, I sent one boy to the teachers’ common room to find out.

The emissary came back excited, with the information that the drill master was not going to show up as he was on leave. That brought the hidden agenda to the fore. The lobby supporting it began to argue: This is the last period and it will be wasted anyway, so why not go home now and make good use of this extra time? Again as the prefect, I was regarded by the class as the right person to take that decision. Like a swarm of bees they began to buzz around me asking if they could go home. As nearly 15 minutes had elapsed and nothing had happened, I gave in and allowed them to go home. As they left, I too followed, trying to justify my action by arguing that in any case it did not come in the way of the school time table.

Because everybody lived within walking distance from the school there was no question of waiting for the school bus. As we went home, all of us were smug with satisfaction that we had half an hour extra for play. For that is what making good use of extra time meant.

But the day of reckoning was not far! In fact, it was the very next morning, when in the first period after the prayers, we saw the headmaster seated in the teacher’s chair. Referring to the previous afternoon’s episode, he supplied a post-script. He had shown up to take our class in the last period, but when he arrived he had found the classroom empty. The school peon who was around (and whom we boys had looked upon as the headmaster’s spy) had filled him in on the details. So he did not bother to ask us the details but prescribed extra homework for us all. However, while leaving, he motioned for me to follow him.

As I entered his den, I wondered what special punishment he had in mind for me. But all that he said to me was, “Jayant, prefect-hood is an honour and you fully deserve it.

But remember, while this honour makes things easier for you, it also comes with more responsibilities. Although as a prefect you can exercise authority over the class, maintain discipline and order the rest of the boys to work, you do not have the authority to give them leave to go home. You should have consulted me or your class teacher before taking that step yesterday. So letting the class go on your authority was bad enough. What was worse was that you yourself followed them. So, as a prefect you behaved more irresponsibly that your classmates. Henceforth, your behaviour should be such as to set an example for others to emulate.”

“Are you not going to give me extra punishment?” I asked. He smiled and said, “What I said to you just now is punishment enough!” He was right. I was smarting under the criticism I had received and it hurt more because it was justified. As I came out of his cabin looking wan, some of my classmates, those with hidden agendas, were waiting anxiously to know how I had fared. For by now, they too were feeling responsible for my irresponsible behavior. “What did he do?” they asked. I replied: “Nothing. He only spoke to me.” But, as I could have added, sometimes words can hurt too.

I often think of that episode whenever I read of cases of corruption, nepotism and other ways of misusing authority. People like to enjoy the perks of their position but turn a blind eye when they need to be alert.

Charity should begin at home, but often it does not! So here is an episode I was witness to when I was on a visit to Sajjangarh, near Satara, in Maharashtra. There were several holidaymakers out to see the abode of Samarth Ramdas Swami, a saint who lived around this area in the late 17th century. As I sat on a low wall for rest, I noticed a boy of 12 or so using a knife to carve his name on the big doorway in the ramparts. His father was occupied chatting with some others in their group when he happened to see his son and heir defiling an item of archeological importance. What did he have to say? “Hey Sonny! Do not waste your energy here” he shouted, adding for good measure: “Reserve it for when you are visiting the Taj Mahal”.

In fact, we as a nation started becoming culpable as soon as the British left our shores. The immediate feeling was: “We are free! Now no one is there to punish us for our anti-social acts.” But we did not realise then that these acts are against our own India, that is, against ourselves!

and Astrophysics, Pune University Campus.