By Savitri Narayanan
It was warm in the classroom even though the blades of the ceiling fan relentlessly went round and round.
The school bell chimed five times. Madhu madam picked up her science books and went out but no teacher came in for a while.
The Class V students grew restless and began chatting with each other.
‘Today is Tuesday, it’s Hindi period!’
‘I don’t like Hindi, can’t understand the grammar at all!’
‘I like Hindi but I don’t like Gupta sir; he gets angry and shouts for no reason!’
‘Gupta sir is absent today, his father passed away last night, so said my father!’
‘Hope Meena madam comes for substitution, she’s so much fun!’
As if listening to their conversation, in walked Meena madam! Middle-aged, chubby and cheerful, she was a much-loved and respected teacher.
“So, what shall we do today, children?” she asked with a smile and continued, “I know you’re all happy when a subject teacher is absent and get a break from the regular lessons!”
Everyone agreed with her secretly so relaxed and joined her smile.
“We’ve forty minutes, what shall we do?” asked madam, “I’m open to suggestions!”
There was no dearth of ideas.
‘Ma’am, tell us a story!’
‘Let’s read a book!’
‘Let’s play ‘antakshari’!’
‘Let’s ask riddles!’
“All these suggestions show how talented you are!” said Meena madam. “Each one’s talent is different – singing, dancing, acting, mimicry, miming so on and so forth. Why don’t you take turns, come here in front of the class and do whatever you’re good at.”
There was silence for a while as they thought over madam’s suggestion, figured out what they were good at and decided exactly what to do.
“Two more minutes’ thinking time,” said madam. “Who’s ready to come up here, raise your hand, please!”
Arun walked up first and sang a song. Neha and Kunal sang too.
“As you know, India is a country of many languages,” said madam. “You can sing songs in your mother tongue too; let me also sing a Bengali song!”
The classroom became more enthusiastic as more songs in Bengali, Marathi, Tamil and, then, an English rhyme followed.
“Sumera, why are you so quiet today?” asked Meena madam, noticing the girl in the back bench. There she was in her faded uniform, looking lost, with a book open and a pencil in hand.
“Sorry ma’am, I can’t sing!’ her head was bent.
“Maybe share a joke?”
“I don’t know any jokes!”
“Tell us about something funny that happened!”
“Nothing funny happened!”
“Ask a riddle, may be!”
“Sorry ma’am, I can’t think of any!”
Sumera sat down quietly, bent over the book.
‘I have a joke, madam!’ Anil took the stage.
He told not one but many jokes at which the class roared with laughter.
Meena madam got up from her chair and paced around the classroom. After a while she went back to her chair.
“In another few minutes, the bell will chime for lunch recess,” she said. “Before that, I’ve good news to share!”
The class quietened down and tried to figure out what it could be.
“Have you heard of the phrase ‘hidden talent’?” she asked.
It sounded familiar, they sort of knew what it meant, thought hard how to explain it.
After a while, Meena madam herself spoke, “Some of you have skills that you never knew you had, rather took it for granted without realising it’s a talent!” said madam, “I notice a ‘hidden talent’ in this class!”
There was pin-drop silence as each one looked around looking for signs of the ‘hidden talent’.
“Sumera, please will you come up here”, said madam. “Bring along the book too, please!”
Apologetically, Sumera walked up with her drawing book. Meena madam put her arms around her shoulders as Sumera held up the book. The class looked at her drawing.
“Note the colours, the lines and the ideas! Definitely shows potential, could be inherent too!” said madam and turned to Sumera. “Was there any artist in your family, do you know?”
“I think my nanaji was part of some painting organisation; he won awards and was often invited to be the judge at art competitions!” said Sumera, a new confidence in her voice. “Mummiji often talks about him and there’re quite a few of nanaji’s paintings on the walls at home!”
The bell chimed for lunch recess. The class followed Meena madam as she walked out with the words, “Looks like we’ve discovered a ‘hidden talent’ right here; Sumera, some day you may turn into a famous artist, remember to give us a treat!”
(Savitri Narayanan is a retired educationist at present in Bangaluru. A mother and grandmother, loves readig, writing and
travelling.)
