By Mohsin Maqbool Elahi
SOMETIMES we learn from our mistakes. Sometimes we learn from the mistakes of others by being a witness to some incident and we, thus, strive to become better human beings. I vividly recall that it was the late ’60s when I was studying in class six at the St Joseph’s College (a college that was later changed into a school but kept its former name), Calcutta. The boys’ school was run by the Irish Christian Brothers along with some lay teachers. The brothers wore white cassocks with a broad white sash.
Our school had a rich mix of students belonging to different communities, each with their own culture, language, cuisine and religion. There were Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Catholics, Jews, Zoroastrians, Jains, Sikhs and Mona Sikhs. Christians consisted of both Anglo-Indians and Goans (Portuguese). Besides the Irish fathers, the majority of teachers consisted of Anglo-Indians, Portuguese, Bengalis and South Indians. Up to class five, all teachers were females, including a Portuguese whom most of my classmates had a crush on and was referred to as Babita (Karisma and Kareena Kapoor’s mother), who happened to be their favourite actress. I was infatuated by a Sindhi teacher who mostly wore saris. Even though she did not resemble any of my favourite actresses – Meena Kumari, Waheeda Rehman and Sharmila Tagore – however, on a particular day, she could be all three rolled into one. I was devastated the day I came to learn that she was already married.
For senior classes, there were all male teachers. Our physical trainer was Japanese who held both indoor and outdoor classes. The indoor classes were held inside the hall where we were trained in gymnastics. My class teacher Joseph Kochupara was from Kerala and he inculcated the best in his students. The subjects included a class of moral science for our character formation. We even had a textbook on the subject. It was the beginning of December and we were appearing for our annual examinations held in the school hall, which also had a stage where plays were held and documentaries were shown on rainy days. I was appearing for my arithmetic examination, a subject which always gave me the shivers. Stuck on a mathematical problem, I asked a senior seated next to me for help who gladly obliged. Mr Kochupara, my class teacher, was watching all this from a distance.
After the examination was over, he confronted me outside the hall and bluntly told me that he did not expect me to cheat as I was a good student. I froze with embarrassment and could not even gather the guts to tender an apology. But he had made his point. Had he wanted, he could have snatched my paper and kicked me out of the hall, leaving me with no alternative but to repeat the class. However, he was generous and knew how to inculcate the right spirit in me. I never cheated after that as I had learnt from my mistake. A year later, at the same school, a Sikh student who was a year senior to me was expelled from school for cheating. He slipped out of the hall to take a peep into his textbook regarding a couple of geometrical theorems. However, he was caught red-handed while trying to re-enter the examination hall. His paper was immediately cancelled and he was sent home never to return. This was a lesson to other students who learnt that cheating never paid and they would be duly punished if they attempted to do so. I never witnessed another cheating incident as long as I studied at St Joseph’s College be it a class test or one of the quarterly or final examinations.
At the end of May 1971, several months before the Indo-Pakistan war, my family moved to Karachi where I studied in a couple of schools to complete my matriculation. With no “contacts”, I was unable to get admission in a reputed school. So I had to make do with a third-rate school in a not-so-posh locality. Several years earlier, the same thing happened to my elder brother as schools seemed more interested in giving admission on the basis of “contacts” rather than on one’s individual capacity and skills. When I appeared for my SSC examinations at a centre, I was shocked to witness that cheating was rampant in the hall and nobody felt the least bit ashamed in indulging in the act. It seemed to be the norm. And most of the students, I am sorry to say, seemed to be good at it. I went through the same experience during my intermediate examination. By now, I had also come to realise that most students had never studied their textbooks and were extremely poor in English along with being dependent on notes and test papers\guess papers, which they could get from Urdu Bazaar, to clear their examination.
I also learned from experience that a majority of invigilators were not good at their job as students would cheat right under their noses, but they either didn’t care or did not know how to catch the culprits. Aren’t invigilators there in the first place to make sure that cheating does not take place? Few students were punished if caught. Usually, the chit or scrap of paper they were cheating from was confiscated and they were allowed to continue with their examination. I could see students going scot-free, carrying on cheating with a smirk on their faces. The only precaution they were taking now was being extra cautious when the invigilator concerned was anywhere near.
Another thing which I have witnessed at all the centres where I happened to be appearing for an examination is that students go to the bathroom, some at least twice or thrice, during the entire duration of an examination lasting three hours. However, at school or college, a majority of these students hardly visited the loo even once where they stayed for at least five hours. Why the sudden change in everyday habits? Well, at the centres concerned, they could not put their hands in their pockets to search for the right answer. Each visit to the loo gave them the opportunity to come prepared to the hall. I think there should be a rule that students taking examinations should not to be allowed to leave the examination hall until they submit their papers.
During the early ’90s, when I was appearing for my MA in International Relations at a centre in North Nazimabad, I was not shocked in the least bit to find that things had not changed a bit, and students continued to cheat without suffering from guilt. I have even seen a lecturer at the same centre openly allowing the students to cheat by telling them that the invigilator had left and they were free to do as they liked. He probably thought he was doing them a favour, not realising that he was, in fact, damaging their future as well as that of many more deserving students.
I am truly lucky that my early education was built on a solid foundation at a reputed school in Calcutta. More than that, I was lucky in having met a teacher called Joseph Kochupara.
I am grateful to him as I find every second person in society is cheating the other person – be it for a seat in medical colleges/engineering universities, a job opportunity, a place in the national cricket team or a coveted position in a newspaper.
(The writer is a senior journalist with Dawn newspaper, Karachi)