The unsung Hero : A short Story - Avtar S. Sangha

Prof. Pratap Singh, a septuagenarian, was now settled in Chandigarh. He had done his post-graduation in English from a University of Punjab in 1974. His son Sumit has just completed his B.Tech from a reputed Institute of Mohali. Today was the day of convocation in the institute of Sumit and he had brought home three prizes by standing first in two individual subjects and also standing first in aggregate in his class. Both the son and the father were overjoyed and the other family members were also sharing the joy with gusto. After the celebrations both the son and the father embarked upon traversing the past. Actually, it so happened that Sumit could not refrain from putting some questions to his father.
"Dad, when had you done your graduation?"
"You mean, year?"
"Yes."
"In 1972"
"Where are your prizes? I had heard you many times talking loud and boistrous about your distinct academic career."
"My dear son, do you think I have been vainglorious and pompous about my career?"
"No, no dad but I never saw any prizes or mementoes in the house---the ones which you might have won at the prize distribution functions and convocations. After all, as per your loud admonishment, you had completed your graduation and post-graduation with flying colours. The Institutions do bestow awards upon the distinct and brilliant students. Some colleges give away the books, some give the mementoes. Then these mementoes and trophies stay in the house as decoration and memorial pieces for a long time. When I visit my friends, I see such trophies in plenty as their dads and elder brothers had won them through their distinction in different fields. These mementoes act as a source of inspiration to their siblings. Dad, I never saw anything here which could corroborate your academic brilliance. I have seen some parents expecting extraordinary achievements from their progeny, through they themselves were mediocre during the formative period of their age."
"Sumit, during my graduation I stood first subjective wise and in aggregate in my class all through these three years. If you are really eager to know, then listen my story carefully."
"Okay, dad."
"The schools in our times were only government schools. There were no model schools in rural areas. The government schools hardly held any prize distribution functions. The college I joined for my graduation had started in 1969 --- the year of the 500th birth anniversary of Shri Guru Nanak Dev Ji. It was a purely private college in the first two years. Then it got affiliation with the university. The classes in the beginning were only two -- Pre-University class and B. A. part 1 class. I had done my schooling with a distinction in the university (there was no education board at the time). Matriculation was also done from the university. When I joined the college, I worked so hard that the principal of this college (our English teacher too) awarded me 90% marks in English in the September home test. When the answer books were distributed in the first period, I was by chance absent due to heavy rains. The pathway to my village was water water everywhere. However, I did reach the college till noon and did attend the 2nd period, that too was English grammar period. When I reached the class, the principal gave my answer book to me and also spoke emphatically about my brilliance for five minutes in the class. He appreciated and acclaimed my score that was 90%. Meanwhile, I thumbed through my answer book and had a thorough look at the error or mistake, if any. Then i counted the marks question wise, recounted them and came to the conclusion that the score was actually 84 marks. When i was sure about my counting, then I called the principal sir and told him that the total was wrong and that inadvertence needed to be looked into. Principal sir took the sheet from me and counted the marks carefully. I was correct and principal sir then spoke a couple of minutes about my honesty. After that I became a hero in that small college of two classes. I may tell you one more instance. We had read in the 'Paradise lost' of Milton: better to reign in hell than to serve in Heaven. Having been declared a hero in a small college is better than having been a back bencher and laggard in a big college. I got so much inspiration and eulogy from my first position in a class of 80 students that I did not lag behind up to B. A. final year. Another feather to the cap proved. B.A. Hons. in English. The principal wanted to win laurels in the area by introducing Hons. English class in a college that consisted of only four class rooms, one small library and one small principal’s office and dilappidated toilets. Taking advantages of the situation he lauded my brilliance and started the Hons. class. Three more students --- one female and two mediocre male ones --- also joined this class. In this tiny college the politics had not yet entered at that time. The high voltage academic environs worked wonders. During the first year of Hons. I got 66% marks and stood second in the university. One who stood first was a guy from Jat college Hissar."
"Dad, what Hissar? Please come back to Punjab. You have gone into Haryana. This way, you cannot prove that you were a real hero like me," Sumit tried to joke away the serious situation.
"My dear son, Do not be over clever. I know, Hissar is Haryana. You were born to me. I was not born to you. At that time the university used to engulf almost all the colleges of Haryana. Haryana had just came into existence in 1966 and the state was still planning to start universities."
"Oh, I see. Dad, you are correct. What next?"
"The second year of honours class also proved almost similar for me. This time I scored 65%. The college received the merit list and I was second in the whole University in B. A. Hons. in English and pass course English."
"Where are the prizes? I never saw any prize in this house."
"Sumit, you people have not seen the days which we have seen. I was subject wise first in all the three classes of B. A. and I stood second in the whole university in Hons. Eng. You will be surprised to know that the poor college which came into existence with the donations of the local area people did not hold any convocation during the first five years. Not even college magazine was brought out during the first three years. Yes, my name did appear on the Honour Board of the college due to my distinction in Honours and that is still there. Go to my college and have a look at it. My name is at No 1. I on the Honour Board. So far as the prizes and mementoes are concerned. I am unsung and unhonoured hero. Otherwise, I had won so many prizes that I could easily overshadow what you are doing now. Don't feel conceited and pompous. Keep on working hand."
"Sorry dad. But what about your post-graduation? They say you had good score in M. A. too."
"Listen, boy. Same thing happened with my post-graduation. The university that I joined for my M. A. came into existence in 1972. During the first two years the university had thin number of students. In M. A. first year we were only 40 students and in M. A. final we were hardly 30 students. Very few people opted to do M. A. in English at that time in the rural areas. Chandigarh did have good number of students. I again had a very good score in M. A. I stood first in poetry and novel too. But the university started holding convocation in 1975. During the first 3 years the certificates were delivered to the students without any convocation. My dear son, the rural Punjab was very poor many years even after independence. The educational institutions took time for becoming prosperous. I remained an unsung hero during my graduation and post-graduation. We were still far better. You can imagine the fate of the people who could not even get a chance to show their talent. They died illiterate, unsung and unhonoured. I have been teaching Thomas Gray's ‘Elegy’ all through my teaching career. The poem is really wonderful. It states:
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
 the dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
and waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Sumit, you were born, in a way, with a silver spoon in your mouth. You have not seen the hard times. You had motorbike with you since the days of your schooling. We did not even have a bicycle with us. The rural roads were not metalled at all. They were dusty, bumpy and muddy. I am happy that you have won some prizes. But never underestimate and degrade the old people. Your grandparents were totally illiterate. They had lost everything during the partition. Imagine their life. The second generation we did best in our own way. Now you are doing your best. Life goes like this."
"You are correct, dad. Your lengthy and inquisitive sermonisation has opened my eyes. You are really great, dad. You reached the pinnacle without any facilities. We did it by enjoying all facilities. You are really great, dad. You were the victim of circumstances. You are not unsung at all. Being prey to environments does not mean having been unsung and unhonoured. Your testimonials speak volumes of your brilliance. Salute to your brilliance, dad.”
Then both the father and the son seemed quite serene and stolid.