Everyone hated exams in school or college, and Anandpur was no exception. The board exams were held annually, as the district’s subdivisional headquarters was in that area. Students from across the country came to take the essential board exams of their lives in Anandpur. Students from nearby Kendujhar, Champua, and Bhadrak would typically take their 10th-grade board exams.
Exam pressure was enormous among the students. The hard work, endless sleepless nights, and scrambling one night before the exam were all worth it for D-Day. The teachers and parents were quite supportive back then. There was pressure to do well in the exams, but a more liberal approach to the results was also considered. The suicide rate was relatively lower in the 1970s than it is today. If the result was unsatisfactory, students were still admitted to the college level for academic purposes.
Over a cup of tea, Maa described exam day as an intensive preparation period. Hundreds of students frantically munch through the notes. This happens in the last hours before the exam. They travel to the exam center by auto, bike, or rickshaw. It’s as if their lives depended on that boring piece of information. Parents, siblings, and teachers gave last-minute motivational speeches to boost the kids. The line to find the room number on the notice board was part of the experience, too. All of these were part of the rigorous high school experience that kids used to have.
Honest exam practices were prevalent among deserving, bright kids in those days. Nevertheless, poor academic students were given unfair chances. Cheating was quite widespread then. Students used to bring sheets of paper to the exam hall to copy during the exam. They concealed these items by hiding them in many inconspicuous positions within the dress. Many students’ relatives came to the exam hall to hand in copies of their wards’ work. It was a routine then. The teachers or invigilators were merely passive observers of the entire drama.
Maa remembered a particular incident from her board exams. It was an actual incident. One academically struggling student once came to the exam hall with many scraps of paper and a knife. He placed the chits on the desk and the knife alongside them. When the invigilator came to his desk to warn him about the malpractice, the student threatened him, brandishing a knife. The teacher backed out, and he continued his malpractice.
Anandpur had its charm, and the exam shenanigans made it more beautiful. The exam papers were unimportant in this life stage, but the experience mattered. Those little unforgettable incidents made life more entertaining and lively. Maa, in her 60s, still remembers the charm of those days. The joy of completing one chapter in life and entering a new experience—that’s what matters the most. Those small peaks in life and little downs in memory make life more impactful.
The Anandpur Chronicles captured the 1970s. They depicted the living standards of that era in the small town of Anandpur. It’s not a famous town compared to others. But it’s the best one because it’s closest to my mother’s heart. Her memories, perceptions, and life ideas are tied to it. With this article, I am bringing the Anandpur Chronicles to a close. I hope I do justice to my mother’s stories.
The Witty Stride 