10 Classic ways of earning a TC

Should I type a TC for you? (Transfer certificate), growled the balding principle donning his green uniform.
I looked down, and the threat subsided and he agreed to offer me a week’s extra drill instead of handing me a TC.
There are very few, who won’t have heard it at least once during their life in Sainik School Goalpara (during my tenure between 1994-2001 as a student). The studious gets it and so do the ruffians, the gentle as well as the unruly ones. I survived many such threats during my seven years stay and always managed to come out safe writing a letter of apology or getting an extra drill at the most or at times getting a pat on my back, for being nice overall.
Here are 10 classic ways of getting to see a TC in Sainik School Goalpara:

1. Go to the out of bound PWD canteen during the prep time hours and wish the nomadic principle, ‘good evening’ on your way back from PWD.
2. Use the short cut through the athletic ground during the PT run, when the principal is performing push ups, in the middle of the athletic ground.
3. Run away to Goalpara without permission, and share a seat with a teacher in the bus.
4. Enter the House through a secret passage (like a broken window) after a late night expedition and find the principal lending you a helping hand, in entering through it.
5. Hit a junior and don’t bother to threaten him with dire consequences, if he takes up the matter with authorities.
6. Steal cattle that roam in the campus, eat it and forget to conceal the left over.
7. Be a topper for a year and then flunk in the exams.
8. Earn an EPD (exempted from PT & Drill) from the doctor, after pretending to be sick & then get spotted by the principal playing cricket in the quadrangle.
9. Explode a cracker 3 months before Diwali or splash colour days ahead of Holi or both.
10. Find a junior coming towards you as you are speaking to the principal. You find the junior very familiar, but can only recall once he comes and says, ‘Da you gave me a meet’.

Glimpses of SSG trip: Delhi-Jaipur

In the Top 10!

Just click on the image!

House Day: Dancing Goes Wrong

Disclaimer: Names have been changed to protect identities. And if the people involved in the story gets a mild to severe heart attack in seeing their little secret being revealed, they can pick their options of abusing me over SMS, phone, email or even in person.

The Basics: We were in IXth standard. We formed the ‘labour force’ in all the senior houses. There are many more basic facts about being a IXth standard cadet in Sainik School Goalpara and I’ll not be dealing with them in the current story. The other fact that I would want to talk about is about cultural activities presented by senior Houses. Such performances would be a mix bag of croaking seniors, who would croak and juniors would praise and then some juniors who were actual artists and then some more juniors who were forced to dance or sing, to act as fillers during the show. I know one such story…

Mr. NF was in IXth standard and he happened to join Sainik School Goalpara in IXth unlike most of us who joined in VIth. After initial ‘sweet to all’ attitude he quickly found himself a slot in the ‘gang of Lohit House’ that mostly comprised of ‘old nine guys’ (they are the hardcore ones, who reach senior houses in their VIIIth standard unlike the average ones who reach senior Houses in IXth). So this group would do things differently…well almost everything.

They would go to Goalpara, when the rest of us would work for the seniors and they would relax in the room as we run around to answer the dreaded shouts ‘Reading room’ ‘Common Room’….Yes Da. They would wake up when we would sleep at night. (Do read Rajib’s story in this context). So this is the group where Mr. NF found himself a berth. Although he wasn’t exempted from his basic duties of being a IXth student, like serving the seniors, he did enjoy the superstar status of being a ‘gangster’.

The date for the House day was slowly approaching and the preparation gained momentum, as I managed the list of programs (being the junior prefect). Like most other cultural events in Sainik School Goalpara, the list I managed had an endless list of ‘singers’ that can kill audience with boredom. So I was given the task of finding some potential dancers. I do not remember now, if Mr. Dutta (an old ninth gangster & my classmate) agreed to dance out of will or because some senior threatened him to do one. But he did agree to dance and his partner was to be Mr. NF. His new uniforms had gathered those stains by now that we had seen from our VIth standard and he was well versed with the said and unsaid rules of Sainik School Goalpara by now.

Common room (room number 6) was their place of practice for the next few days culminating with the final performance. They would practice at night, and collect stuff during the day. By stuff I mean, shoes from some, torn jeans from others, bandana from some etc. Oh the song! It was O o jaane jana, dhunde tujhe deewana. A good song, given our limited taste and seclusion from the rest of the human civilization.

The D day arrived and being the junior prefect, I cleverly placed the dance between equal number of songs, before and after the dance to bring about a sense of variety. And the dance was to be the ‘item’ of the day, that would provide visual treat as well, unlike the songs. The cassette player rolled and the song started with a squeak. Mr. Dutta, donning torn jeans, a red bandana and a body hugging T-shirt started shaking his legs as Mr. NF followed suit. Unlike the rehearsals, there was something missing, as NF kept staring at Mr. Dutta and followed him. After a few minutes of suppressed anger Mr. Dutta nodded his head towards NF asking ‘whats wrong?’
NF flapped his hands on his ear, meaning, ‘I can’t hear anything’.
Now Dutta knew the song by hard and it didn’t matter to him if it was audible to him or otherwise. But for NF, it was a different story altogether. Dutta finally couldn’t take it anymore and he stamped his feet on the stage and left, ‘To hell with dancing’. And with that, the ‘item’ of the evening drowned into nothing. Some eager singers quickly replaced the dancers, as the audience laughed, jeered and the principal wore a stern look, suppressing his internal laughter. The evening was criminally boring and NF and Dutta didn’t speak for a while after that incident. I would love to see both dancing once again & I promise I’d place a speaker facing the dancers as well. ‘O o Jaane Jana’

SSGians: The Proud Breed!

A source of motivation. A source of pride. And most importantly a reason to work harder to reach where we want to.

The ringing of the bell redefines the meaning of morning as we scrub our sleepy eyes and put on our shorts and run in the dark, with daylight still away for sometime. I have heard many a times, teachers saying and asking us to study harder, as we had sacrificed our childhood staying away from our parents and more importantly, as we had come out successful in the interview and succeeded in getting an admission in Sainik School Goalpara.

We passed our routine exams with the little time we had to study in the midst of games, House activities, punishments, parades and functions. Its 8 years now since I left the school. It will vary for many of you who might be reading. However, the definition of professional success isn’t a static or pre defined one. One can be called a success even if he owns a shop and excels in it as compared to an unsuccessful or half hearted attempt to do something else.

Over a dinner, I was chatting with an ex classmate of mine from school days. He was saying that of the many truths about the people of Assam, one was their lack of strength to undergo sacrifice to achieve something. And one need not look far for example. He pointed toward himself and me and said, “Look at you and look at me and whatever we are doing today; our achievement is NIL when we see our past and our education.”

I am not saying this to offend, but rather to inspire several of those who have embarked upon their journey towards their goal, which is going to be tough undoubtedly. And when the going gets tough, the tough keeps going. Its time we gave befitting SALAMI to our school days, to the bruises, to the sleepless mornings and the suffocating Khaki uniform during hot summer days. Keep working and don’t forget to go back to the school when you are proud of yourself…sooner or later. Sarv Mein Saddham

Holi in Sainik School

Holi for every body is the festival of colours, but for students of Sainik School, it is more than that. It’s a HOLIDAY in the real sense...School is off, sweets are distributed, special lunch is served and we get to play or sleep according to our wish during the afternoon.

Holi in our school was celebrated in a great style; we used to assemble in the basket ball ground in civil dress with sweets placed in the table towards one pole of the ground. There were also colours (gulal) placed in plates for each house, all the teachers were also
present.

Our Principal used to distribute the sweets and colours house wise. Students would then proceed with the formalities by applying colour on the Principal’s face and the teachers. After a small sing song with dholak, the actual Sainik School holi unfolds inside the houses!

I remember how pits were dug inside the quadrangle of the houses and filled with water from the water tank used for Toilet. Volunteers for the pit digging weren’t spared, but their clothes certainly were from being torn, unlike the others. Very few students could manage to successfully evade from being thrown into the pit or the water tank itself, in spite of trying hard to hide. But it was fun; especially hunting for the ones who would be hiding and then chasing and dragging them to the pits.

There was also inter house attacks where the chasing and running took place in the roads covering the road in front of senior and junior houses, teachers quarters and near the pond. Few students were unlucky enough to be thrown in the school pond (fishery).This idea of throwing into the pond, pit or the tank was like a chain reaction, as the one
who was resisting, would then take the charge to find another, in a way of seeking revenge with fun. That was real fun which continued to last for the entire afternoon and ended with a community bathing followed by special food in the PWD or western canteen. Of course there were few who could manage to save themselves from all these by hiding in the areas of dhobi ghat, PWD and many such places untraceable by others. Although they could save themselves from the cow dung and mud but they could not save themselves from the buckets of water from the toilet tank which greeted them in their beds once they returned!

It was really great with all the friends, seniors and juniors. I miss that a lot.

Wish u all a very happy Holi…

Interviews: Sainik School Goalpara

I scrolled my eyes through the list of candidates who cleared the written exams, in the small fonts of the copy of ‘The Assam Tribune’. I finally rested my eyes on a particular number and a sense of joy erupted. I had cracked the written test for admission in ‘Sainik School Goalpara’. Like most other kids of my age, the sense of joy sprung from two factors; first for being able to relate myself with the reputed Sainik School Goalpara and second for seeing my name appear on the newspaper. Ha!

The postman finally turned up one fine morning and brought the call letter for the oral and medical examination. I reached Goalpara on the decided date with my mom and my uncle. Some ambassadors, jeeps and FIAT Padminis, stood littered in the grass courtyard of the venue and a black board stood on an aisle that read, ‘Medical and Oral tests, Sainik School Goalpara’. A mixed sense of achievement and awe ran through me, as I heard guardians, prompting information to their wards.

The full form of DC is Deputy Commissioner, while another old man asked the height of the Everest to his ward. Waiting for my turn, I saw going to be ‘SSGians’ coming out of a half opened door, tugging in their Shirts. Parents hurried to them, as they breathlessly asked questions about the interview. By the time my turn came, I was aware that I might have to walk in my underwear, if they suspected of ‘knocking knees’. A panel of three middle aged men sitting across a table greeted me as I went inside. A candidate was walking to and fro across the two walls, in his underwear.

They shot some general questions and after being satisfied, one of them said, ‘So you are from Dhubri.’
I could detect a glint of mischief in his eyes. He was wearing a uniform with some stars, out of which I couldn’t figure out his rank. So he continued, after hearing a meek ‘yes’ from me. ‘Suppose you are strolling on park beside the Brahmaputra, and you know the DC and the SP’s bungalows are located there. You suddenly see a group of children falling into the river. Who will you go to?’

I projected a thoughtful image on my face and said, ‘the SP’.

The balding man in white shirt asked me to read some alphabets to test my eye sight and I saw the daylight once again as my Mom and uncle asked me how it went. The postman came to my house after a month or so, bringing the admission letter for me. The round semi-distinguishable postal stamp read ‘Sainik School Goalpara, P.O. Rajapara, 783133’

The Mid Night Cat:Ghosts in Sainik School Goalpara

The ‘Ghost Week’ seems quite an interesting prospect to me and would like to thank Shisir for giving us the platform to share our school memories. Whenever I recall the ghostly incidents in Sainik School Goalpara, a chilling coldness runs down my spine.
I was allotted Udaygiri House and I did the shifting in my IXth standard. A sense of haunted-ness hung in the air, from day one. Seniors took our introductory rounds, while telling us stories about the ghosts that appeared in the House often. I never believed them until that fateful night in December.

I was in my XIIth standard and was preparing for my Board Exams. I used to stay up till late in the night studying. I was in room number 1 and on the other end of the house stood the rows of bathrooms and lavatories. None of the bathing rooms had doors except the one in the extreme corner. It was said that a student had committed suicide in that bathroom, unable to handle the pressure of the sainik school life. It was also said that blood came out from the tape in that bathroom for sometime (I am sure that was just a rumour). Nonetheless, the fact remains that, no one used that bathroom except to wash clothes during the day.

Habitually I always went to the urinal, before going off to sleep during the 1.30-2.00 am time period. During one such nights, I saw a black furred cat staring at me with its eyes glowing in the dark. It would lead me to the bathrooms everyday. This went on for sometime, until on that fateful night, when curiosity got the better of me. I came out of my room and found the cat glowing towards me as usual. I followed it and kept following until it went inside that locked bathroom. Brushing aside the faint fear, I opened the door slowly into that bathroom. The bathroom was dry and empty. The high walls didn’t have any openings for the cat to escape. The cat never appeared again and curiously no one ever spotted the cat in the House again.

There are many such incidents that hang between the real and the unexplainable; will certainly share them some other day.

Ghosts in Sainik School Goalpara 2

The campus of Sainik School Goalpara is a huge area consisting of thousands of acres of land, mostly unoccupied. Shrubs, animals, darkness and legends came to occupy those unused mass of lands. If gossips were to be considered true, the present campus was built upon an old burial site. Such gossips never mattered to me, until one day…

I had heard several stories about ‘ghost sightings’ in Udaygiri house, which happened to be our neighbours. Of the several such stories, the story about this particular cat was probably the most circulated one - A cat that appeared at a particular time of the night and went into a particular bathroom and then vanish. (I will wait to hear this story from someone from Udaygiri House).

I was in my IXth standard, and a day of hard labour put me off to sleep in the early hours of the night, at around 10pm. The sounds from my neighbours in the room finally subsided and the lights went out within sometime, probably half an hour. It was summer and most of us preferred to wear shorts over our sleeping night dresses, flouting the prescribed rules. With no exams in the next few weeks, the lights went out in quick succession across all the rooms, putting the entire house into a silent sleep.

It was strange how the dew drops used to fall even in the warmest of summers, finely putting dotted lines on the grass below the tin roofs. The night was filled with the lethargic moaning of the ceiling fans, in the room, amplified by the hollowness of the asbestos ceiling. The heat of the night gave way to slight chillness during the late night and early morning hours. I felt an urge to take a leak and woke up as I had to walk to the other side of the hostel, where the pungent smelling bathrooms were located.

Bathrooms in Sainik School Goalpara consisted of rows of Lavatories, a water tank, rows of bathing rooms, with doors at various stages of decay, some open and some closed and some missing, and then came the high walled urinals and then finally ending in an open bathroom. The open bathroom was a bare space, surrounded by high walls, with a steel pipe dangling from the top. It was meant to have wash basins, which probably existed for a few years, when the school was established. Nonetheless, it was a space meant exclusively for the seniors to bathe and shout sing.

So I slipped into my pair of slippers and opened the door. A gust of moist air rushed in, leaving me cold and numb. The stairs were moist and gleaming with the dew. It was dark all around as I walked towards the bathrooms and my footsteps echoed in the silence. I looked away from the doors of the lavatories, as I hurried towards the urinal. I hurriedly released myself and paced towards my room. I kept turning my eye balls to inspect if I was being followed. As I stepped on the corridor, I saw someone in shorts going to my room. My half sleepy eyes couldn’t recognize who it was. He was walking slowly, in fact very slowly. He entered the room, as I reached the door, and as I went inside, I saw him walking to the end of the room, to the window in the end and then pass through it. I walked up to the window and looked outside. There stood a cat staring at me! The curled body suggesting that it just landed.
A later enquiry revealed, no one else had woken up on that night, other than me.

Ghosts in Sainik School Goalpara

Daytime and nighttime in Sainik School Goalpara are very different and contrasting. The activities of the students die down as lights go out and the grumbling of the generator dies down by 10 pm. The only audible sound that rings are the howling of the jackals and the foxes that inhabits in the shrubs and forest that surrounded the campus. Many stories made rounds about ghosts being sighted here and sometimes there. I haven’t seen any, but let me tell you, have felt many.

Unlike the senior houses, where seniors took the illegal liberty to keep awake for several reasons, junior houses didn’t enjoy such liberties and hence were always eerily silent after 10 pm. It was my first year in school and I was in my VIth standard.

A warm summer night, and the whistle from outside the reading room (room number 5) went off, marking the lights-out time. We quickly tied our respective mosquito nets and lay there in darkness, silent, according to the ‘rules’. I don’t remember for how long did I lay there like that on my bed, until the sound of the creaking door brought me back to my senses. Those days, I dint have a mobile phone to inspect the sound and neither an indiglo watch to check the time. My flash light lay dead for want of battery replacements, which I couldn’t get done as the CSD canteen was always occupied, every time I went there on Sundays.

My bed was at a slight distance from the door and three beds stood between mine and the door. The darkness was absolute and not even a faint shade of light existed. All I could hear was the distinct sound of an unhurried dragging walk. It paused momentarily somewhere between the door and my bed. Scared I was and could never know if there was anyone else in the room, awake and listening to what I was. A sound of a match stick striking came from where it stood…and then a long drag…of what seemed like someone smoking a cigarette. But no lights emerged from it. The dragging of the feet resumed.

I could not gather the courage to scream, lest I attracted this invisible visitor’s attention without being able to wake my roommates. The sound crossed towards the other half of the room, away from the door. A sound of fluttering pages came out. I perspired and still I wished I had a blanket to cover myself and hide. The sound became indistinct and the next thing I saw was the morning light and the familiar sound of our matron…”Utha Utha” (get up, get up).

Many of my fellow friends experienced the same. Some say, it was a prank. Might be prank it was. But a lot many things happened during those seven years, to me and to many others. All of them couldn’t be prank.

SSG Ticklionary: A short list of ticklish definitions

For a more elaborate, but incomplete list of Sainik School Goalpara terms visit the story SSG terms.

EPD: Exempted from PT and drill. Ever had the fortune to watch others do the job of running around? Well, there are certain basic criteria to obtain an EPD. You need to be actually unwell enough to not be able to run around or be a good actor. And secondly, after obtaining an EPD make sure that you watch the activities around you with a ‘sick’ face, or else you never know, anyone might drag you to run, from seniors to whimsical Army Ofiicers.

SDA: I still do not know the formal meaning of SDA. However, what I know is that it’s a group started in the year 2000 that took pride in stealing fruits from the backyard gardens of teachers and exploding the black boots by placing explosives inside them, apart from many others. Group members can be identified by their black scarves and determined eyes. They were our Robin Hoods, who would feed the hungry students for free. The full form of SDA happens to be School Destruction Activists.

Extra Drill: If you ever see Khaki Uniform clad students standing or more possibly running in the afternoon sun, immediately after lunch, make no mistake. They are not practicing to join the army or rehearsing for the upcoming inter house drill. They were probably caught while running to Goalpara or the nearby, but out-of-bound areas like the Western or the PWD canteens. Stories often came up, about sympathetic army subedars, and how they said… “start jumping when the principal or the headmaster arrives”. Though a serious form of punishment, it was lesser in degree when compared to punishments by genuinely angry seniors! And we know of many such friends, who spent more afternoons jumping around than anything else.

Dingi: A subject of awe, that took to legendary proportions. ‘Dingi’ in Assamese translates into ‘neck’. Mr. R.M.Verma was known to thrash students on the back of their neck. The pain is inexplicable in words, even by those who had the misfortune of undergoing it. Do read Kingshuk’s story to know more.

Regimental Dinner: A fancy imitation of an actual formal lavish dinner, to mark an important occasion in the school calendar. It often succeeded in imitating the atmosphere, while failing miserably in the food aspect. A pair of Bagpipers walks around the mess, followed by a grace, and then the food. Hint: If the mess has been serving extraordinarily bad food for a while, its an indication that its doing ‘cost cutting’ to be able to offer a regimental dinner. If you are particularly addicted to bread crumbs with watery chicken soup, check the school calendar!

Time Bomb: It doesn’t tick away to an explosion. It’s a crude time bomb, that seems to go off everywhere around Diwali time. An agarbatti (incense stick) is lighted and is attached to the coil of the bomb. Hidden under the bushes, the louder ones even place under the chairs of Hit List teachers in the mess. BANG!

Old Nine: He walks like a don and acts as if he is one. What sets him apart is that he is packed off to senior houses in VIIIth standard unlike others who reach senior houses in their IXth standard. So by the time their fellow classmates reach senior houses, they are old and hence the term, ‘Old Nine’. Understandably he often considers himself pseudo senior to his own classmates!

A Brain Teaser

Last night I was having my dinner with 3347(Pranab) and 3272(Bhaskar), my roommates and discussing about our school as usual. Suddenly certain names of people (very important) came up in the discussion and I thought it would be a great memory brush-up for everyone:

So these are few questions which I want SSGians to answer.

1. What are the names of the assistants of Amiya (except foni)?
2. What was the name of the official photographer of our school (not S.Narayan)?
3. What was the name of our Tailor?
4. What was the name of our cobbler?
5. What was the name of our movie projector operator?
6. What was the name of our mess manager and his assistant?
7. What was the name of the K.G school inside our campus?
8. What were the names of our school bus drivers?
9. What is the name of our stationary store in charge?
10. What is the name of our accountant?

The Story of a Painter

If the shine of the shoulder badge dazzles you, and the spick and span of the boots and belts charm you, visit the SSG campus on the day of the inter house drill competition!

A week before the event, the smell of the burning candle and the ‘shoe polish’ pervades every House, and every room and spills over into the corridors. And a day before the event the smell of Brasso adds to the spice as we start polishing the metal parts of our uniform – the belt locks, the shoulder badges, the cap badge and the innumerable badges, some earned and mostly for the glitter.

And a month before the event, we hear the familiar noise of the commander, ‘Left right…Left right…Heel Dig, Shoulder tight, Left Right..Left Right…’ The digging of the hard heel of our boots would soften the dry earth beneath and bring out the water to the surface. Every house cherished for the ‘Drill Trophy’ and it was pretty natural to hear the familiar commands erupting from each house, and at times, even at odd hours of the night.

The point system in the Drill competition ensured that everything was looked into, starting from the turnout to the marching and from our haircut to the crispness of our uniforms. Udaygiri House had won it for several years in succession, until it was snatched away the previous year. Legend has it that ‘ghosts’ or ‘spirits’ used to come and guide the Udaygiri house team during the practice sessions. It seems funny to realize that we actually were ready to buy such ideas.

The previous year, Lachit House shocked us all by coming up with this unique surprise. On the day of the event, as we faced each other, their shining boots made our boots look pale, in spite of going through all the strict traditional process of smearing them with candle, and then with shoe polish, and then the adequate strokes from the hard brush and the soft brush. After the drill was over, news came that, Lachitians had painted their shoes with wood paints. I envied their boots, as the shine remained even days after the event. And then a time came, when the paint started to crack, and no shoe polish could fill those cracks and they started to look ridiculously old. The black paint nonetheless did its job, as Lachitians at least gave a stiff competition (I don’t remember if they won the trophy that year).

It so happens that we always practice for the drill in a different pair of shoe and keep a fresh one for the D-Day. Alongside the drill practice, I was also occupied with some paper works as I was the office bearer during that particular year. So, I finally took out my fresh pair on the night before the D-Day and tried them on and a sense of horror struck me! It was too small for my feet.

I summoned a junior and asked him to find a ‘fresh pair’ of boots for me. After a tense hour or so, he came back with an unused pair. Now anyone who knows leather understands how difficult it is polish an unused and never polished piece of leather and more so, if one had to wear it in the drill. I raced my mind and was struck with an idea. I managed to find a half filled container of black paint and splashed it generously on the boots and left it to dry over night. I kept checking its dryness, sometimes merely looking at it, or at times pressing my finger on it. So by the dawn of the morning, there were several finger prints on the shoes to my horror! And it was yet to dry. As I left for classes, the bright sun suddenly turned gloomy and ominous dark clouds came up from nowhere. After a tensed day of classes, I had a quick lunch and came running to check my boots only to put yet another impression of my finger on it. The mess bell went off marking the time to leave for the Drill competition. I slipped my feet carefully without bothering the half dried paint and joined my team outside the house, as some of us chanted house Slogans, and get countered by slogans from other houses. We started to move towards the ground.

Half way through towards the ground, I felt a sense of sponginess on my feet and I looked down and Oh my God, the half dried paint had befriended some dried twigs, loose grasses and pounds of dust clung around it.
I felt like screaming, ‘Lachitians you dint warn me about this!!!’