Half Girlfriend (17 page)

school. Even I turned down job offers to come here,’

‘Great.You can make a pitch tor that, too.’

’Pitch?’

'The grants programme is highly competitive. We get a lot of

wonderful proposals, but give funding to only a few.'

‘What do I need to do?’

‘Ideally, you need to submit a proposal and make a presentation to

the selection panel. However, there’s no panel meeting expected

anytime in the near future.’

‘Then?’

Samantha paused to think.

‘Please, Miss Samantha, I realty need money tor my school. You

have seen the condition it is in’

Samantha finally spoke. ‘Here's what I suggest. Make a good

speech to the visiting delegation. Mr Gates himself will be present. If

he and the delegation like what you say, they may grant you something

on the spot.’

Really?’

’If you can say something inspiring, a pitch that comes across as

genuine, a small grant might be possible.’

What's a small grant?’

‘Twenty thousand dollars. Maybe more. But like I said, it may not

work.’

I let out a huge breath. Eight lakhs could transform my school.

‘A speech, eh?’ I said.

‘Yes, not too preachy, not salesy. just from the heart.’

‘How long?’

‘Five to ten minutes. In English, of course.’

‘ What?’ I said and jumped up from my chair. My sudden

movement caused her to spill her tea.

‘Sorry? Everything okay?’ Samantha said.

I sat back down.

‘English?’

‘Yes. But we are speaking in English.’

‘I can barely talk to you. Addressing a US delegation in English in

front of an audience? I can’t.'

‘Well, we could have translators. But I’m afraid that just doesn’t

have the same effect.’

We finished tea. She called her driver. Kids continued to stare from

the classroom windows at the white princess in her white Innova.

‘My English is terrible,’ I said to her. She got into the car.

‘It’s completely your choice.’

The driver started the car. I continued to stare into Samantha’s grey

eyes.

‘So?’ she said.

‘I’ll do it,’ I said and inhaled deeply. ‘I will make a speech in

English.’

My heartbeat was louder than the car’s engine.

‘Nice. Look forward to it. See you in April,’ she said coolly.

The car zoomed off. I stood still, wondering why on earth I had

agreed to give a speech to the richest man on the planet.

20

'Speech?’ my mother said. 'In English? To goras? Have you gone

mad?'

’The state of the school has driven me mad.’

She sat up on her rickety chair, her eyebrows high. She rested her

elbows on the table, her fingers entwined.

‘Whatever it is, it is my school, If you don’t like it, leave.’

‘Don’t be dramatic, Ma. I like it, so I'm doing all this.’

‘First, I have no idea who this Gates is or what he does to make so

much money. Next, he is coming to my school with a paltan, Now you

have to give a speech.’

‘He makes software,’

‘Soft wear? Like soft clothes? So much money from that?'

‘No, computer software. Like Windows,’

‘Windows. Gates. What is he? A furniture dealer?'

‘Forget it, Ma, I have to practise my English speech,’

‘Good luck,’

She slid a stack of students' notebooks towards herself, She

opened one and started to correct it.

'I want you to help me.’

She looked up,

‘How? I don't speak English. Barely understand it.’

‘Please let me know if I sound okay,’

I stood up straight, I pretended I had a mic in my hand.

‘How will I know if you said it right?' Ma said, ‘Imagine yourself

in the audience. See if I come across as confident and intelligent,'

She giggled, l shushed her and began my speech. As I didn't know

English well then, this is what I came up with.

'Good morning, Mr Bill Gates, Miss Samantha and guests. I,

Madhav, welcoming you all to the Bihar, My school doing excellent

coaching of children, farmer’s children, poor children, small

children...' I couldn't think of what to say next so I referred to various kinds of children, I continued, '...boy children, girl children, and many, many children,’

I heard my mother snigger.

‘What?’ I said,

‘Who are all these children?’ if scratched my head.

‘Anyway,’ I continued.‘My school needing toilet as nobody able to

toileting when toilet time corning,’

My mother burst out laughing.

‘Now it’s toilet,' she said. I gave her a dirty look.

‘Please go on.,’ she said, enjoying herself. I threw up my hands in

the air.

‘I’m useless. What have I taken on?’ I went into panic mode. I was

going to turn myself into a joke.

‘Can you say no?’ my mother said.

‘I can. Maybe I should. Should I?’

My mother shrugged. I sat down next to her.

‘I will tell them I can’t do it. They can take me off the grants

programme.’

'Quitting, eh?’ she said.

‘You laughed at me. Now you are calling me a quitter.’

‘I only laughed at your current speech. You can learn to give a

better one.’

‘How?’

‘How much time do you have?’

‘Two months.’

‘So learn English’

‘I didn’t learn it properly in three years at St. Stephen’s. How can I

do it in two months?’

‘We don’t quit, Madhav. It’s not in the Jha family’s genes.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning we may lose everything, but we don’t quit. That’s what

your uncles did, at the gambling table or in business. Being bankrupt is

okay, but quitting is not.’

‘So what do I do?’

‘You work that out. I have to take a class.’

My mother collected her notebooks and left.

Half an hour later, I stomped into her classroom. The students

looked up at me.

‘Don’t barge in when class is on.Wait outside,’ she said and shooed

me out.

She came out when the period ended.

‘I’m going for it,’ I said.

‘Good,’ my mother said. ‘But next time, knock.’

‘I want to join English classes. In Patna.’

‘Patna?’

‘There’s nothing good in Dumraon.’

‘That’s true. But how?’

‘I’ll commute. Weekdays here and Patna on the weekends. Is that

okay?’

‘Where will you stay in Patna?’

‘I’ll find some place.’

‘We have relatives. Your chachi stays there. She is one weird

woman, though.’

‘I'll find a guest house. Let me look for good classes there.’

‘Come here.’ My mother gave me a tight hug.

‘Just stay happy, all right?’ she said. ‘Do what you have to, but

don’t be a grumpy man like your father.’

‘Thank you, Ma,’ I said.

‘Welcome, English boy.’

21

'Six thousand for three months.’ He pushed a brochure towards

me.

I had come to Patna’s Pride English Learning Centre on Boring

Road. M, Shaqif, the thin, almost malnourished owner of Patna’s

Pride, explained the various courses to me. He wore a purple shirt.

Sunglasses hung out of his front pocket.

'We teaching for five years.Good English.Personality development,

interview preparing, everything people learning here,’

I was no expert in English,but I could still tell there was something

wrong with what he had said, One too many ‘ings’, 'I have to give a

speech. To an important audience,' I spoke in Hindi, to explain my

situation better, ‘No problem. Speech okay,' Shaqif said. ‘What

qualification you having?’

‘Graduate.’

‘Good. Local?’

‘Delhi. St, Stephen's.’

The name didn’t register. He nodded out of courtesy. He rummaged

in a drawer, took out an admission form and handed it to me. I

wondered if l should pay up or check out other classes. He sensed my

hesitation.

‘Sir, we will make you top-class. Multinational-company English.'

‘I only have two months,’ I said. 'I need fast results,'

‘We arrange private classes for you. Extra five hundred per class.'

‘Five hundred?'

‘Okay, four hundred,'

I shook my head.

‘Three hundred. Please. Good deal,’ he said.

I filled up the form and paid him an advance for the first month. In

addition, I signed up for private classes every Saturday and Sunday, I

left Patna's Pride and took an auto to a road outside the railway station, full of guest houses. I finally struck a weekends-only deal with a small

hotel called Nest, provided I didn't ask for a receipt, *

Ten minutes into my first class at Patna Pride, I had a sinking

feeling.

This wouldn’t work. I shared the classroom with fifteen other

students, mostly around my age and all men. The teacher asked us to

call him 'Verma sir’.

‘Say “how”,’ Verma sir said, asking the class to repeat the word.

‘How.’ The response came in ten different accents. The word

sounded like ‘haw’ or ‘haau’ or ‘ho’.

‘Are.You.' Verma sir said, 'How are you?'

The class repeated the words with a Bihari twist.

‘Confidence,’ Verma sir said, ‘is the secret. It is the key difference

in coming across as high-class English or low class. You have to sound

right, too. This is a foreign language. Not Bhojpuri. So the sounds are

different.'

He turned to a student called Amit, ‘Why are you here, Amir?'

'To learn English, sir,' Amit said.

'What kind of English?'

‘Top-class English. With big vocabulary,'

'Relax,' Verma sir said. 'Forget big vocabulary in my class,’

'Sir?' Amit said, confused.

Verma sir turned and addressed the whole class, 'Students, all you

have to learn is simple, confident English. Don’t be scared of people

who use big words. These are elitists. They want to scare you with

their big words and deny you an entry into the world of English. Don’t

fall into their trap. Okay?’

Everyone nodded, irrespective of whether they understood Mr

Verma or not, ‘Anyway, let’s get back to “how are you",’ he said.

Verma sir explained the ‘au’ sound in the word ‘hew’ and that it did

not exist in Hindi.

‘Like cow, It is not ca-u, It is a mix of aa and o together. Try,'

The class struggled to utter the simple word. I bet the British would

have struggled just as hard if they tried to speak Bhojpuri. If the

Industrial Revolution had taken place here, there would be Indian ex-

colonies around the world. White men would have had to learn Hindi

to get a decent job. White teachers would tell white men how to say

cow in Hindi with a perfect accent.

Verma sir interrupted my desi-invasion daydream.

’Yes, what is your name?’

‘Madhav, Madhav Jha, sir.’

‘Okay, Madhav, repeat after me: “I am fine, thank you”.’

‘I am fine, thank you,’ I said.

‘Good,’ he said.

After three years at Stephen’s, l wasn’t that hopeless. I could repeat

simple phrases. I wanted him to teach me how to give a speech.

Meanwhile, he moved on and corrected another student.

‘Faa-in. Not fane. Please open your mouth more.’

*

I spent the weekend in Patna. Apart from attending the classes, I

bought a book on confident public speaking from the Patna Railway

Station. I ate puri-aloo from a platform stall. The book recommended

practising English with random strangers, so one would feel less

ashamed if one made a mistake.

‘Excuse me, sir. Would you be kind enough to tell me if this is the

platform for the Kolkata Rajdhani Express?’

I practised this sentence on the station platform ten times. In many

cases, the passengers didn’t understand me. I moved towards the AC

compartments. Rich people usually know English.

‘I’m not sure. I suggest you ask the TC,’ said one bespectacled

man.

‘Was my English correct?’ I said.

‘Huh?’ he looked at me, surprised.

I explained my attempts at English practice. He patted my back.

‘You did fine,’ he said.

‘I’m trying,’ I said.‘Your English is so good. What do you do?’

‘I’m in software sales. I’m Sudhir.’ He extended his hand.

‘I’m Madhav,’ I said.

‘All the best, Madhav,’ he said.

*

Private classes seemed much better at Patna’s Pride. I explained my

situation to Verma sir.

'I see,’ he said. He stroked his chin stubble. ‘Not only do you have

to learn correct English, you have to also learn to deliver a public

speech,"

‘Exactly, sir. I am so nervous.’

"But you do know some English. You graduated English-medium,

right?’

I wanted to tell him I didn’t just graduate English-medium,

graduated from a place where even the grass grows in English.

I switched to Hindi to explain myself. ‘Sir, I can put a sentence

together in English. But all my effort goes into remembering the right

words. I can’t think of what I’m saying.’

'I understand.' Verma sir said. ‘When you don’t know the language

well, you are self-conscious. It shows in your confidence level. It

affects your personality. Not good for job interviews.’

‘Sir, this isn’t just a job interview. This is about the future of my

school and the students who study there.’

I showed Verma sir the book I had brought from the railway

station.

He shook his head. ‘No, not this.You don’t learn how to become a

confident English speaker from books found at a railway station. Else