Examination in a palace
MY alma mater is a school founded by Yadavindra Singh, then Maharaja of Patiala, which was the largest princely state in Punjab at the time of Independence. As the chancellor of the Chamber of Princes comprising 565 states, the Maharaja was the first among the rulers to sign the instrument of accession of his erstwhile state to the newly independent Union of India.
The cataclysmic happenings at the time of the Partition led to a massive displacement of the population of the three major communities across a new international border. Millions of Sikhs and Hindus were forced to migrate from the western part of Punjab, which became a part of Pakistan, to the east, which constituted India. The visionary Maharaja endowed a huge campus, consisting of a world-class sports stadium, to a new school in Patiala for Sikh and Hindu boys from Lahore, which had become the capital of Pakistan’s Punjab province.
In November 1957, our batch of about 15 boys was to appear in the high school examination called Senior Cambridge. The school faced a piquant problem. The sports stadium, then the best in the region, had been requisitioned for conducting the National Games, which coincided with our exams. To keep us away from the hustle and bustle of the games, the Maharaja of Patiala graciously offered the premises of his palace for our batch to write our papers. He greeted us and wished us success in the crucial examination. His was an imposing personality, his elegant 6-ft, 4-inch frame towering over us all. He was attired in a high-necked, buttoned-up long coat, truly a regal figure, every inch a prince.
Being welcomed by the royalty was a unique experience for us; we were overwhelmed at being seated on plush leather-cushioned chairs in the royal library, so different from our customary spartan, hard benches. If the school’s founder, our beloved Maharaja, fondly hoped that the opulent milieu would inspire excellence in performance, he would have been dismayed to learn of the results. It was on April 1, 1958, that the headmaster read out the results in the classroom. I thought he was subjecting us to an April fool’s joke when he announced that there was more red ink than black on the result sheet, implying that many examinees had flunked in several subjects. It was the sad truth. Clearly, the ambience of the palace had proved inadequate to inspire the boys. Fortunately, by an acute foresight, the headmaster had registered many in our batch additionally for the matriculation examination of Punjab, which was held in March 1958 after the Senior Cambridge exam.
The story had a happy ending after all. Many of us who failed to benefit from the luxury of a palace easily cleared the matriculation exam on humble, rough-hewn desks. The school had trained us in life’s lessons outside the palace walls.
