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The silent classroom, a bench where three peers would occupy on usual days now have only two sitting in two corners, everyone’s heads down, eyes concentrating on the answer sheet, fans above quietly running in their measured sphere, some are lifting their heads for a few seconds to frame the answer and quickly starting to write again. Teacher is invigilating quietly by walking through the passage with arms crossed at the back. And moving his head left to right. Right to left.

While some are struggling to fill first two three pages, another lot asking for extra sheets 2-3-4-5. An usual scene of half yearly or final examinations during school days, year after years. End of these exams would be either long Summer vacations, or Winter vacations. An abundance of fun and freedom. Beginning and end of holidays were as if the rise and setting of the Sun followed by a long day in between, and then came the day of Result. Mum would get ready to visit the school to collect the Report Card. While for the bright boys it was just another day, and for some.. O god.. Why again..

You would realise this Day of Result do not leave us no matter whatever change takes place in life as we move on. It continues to appear and run alongside with it’s changed forms. And these changed forms are sometime the day when list of promotions are announced by the employer, the day of Performance Bonus reaches the mail box, the day of quarterly or annual results get published, Son or Daughter’s result and many more such. Some has direct thrust on us and some are indirect.

There was one result or report which did not make one anxious in the younger days, instead makes grossly worried as one grows older, and these are various health related reports. These are way more worrying than the school ones. Tougher than facing poor marks in Maths or any other subject where interest level was low.

Yesterday morning had a similar feeling of a Result day when the delivery boy from the Diagnostic Center rang the doorbell. Mind knew it was him. It was the Report.

The Red colour bright 4’’x 9’’ size of an envelope with fat reports carefully folded and sealed did an exchange of hands. In a low voice enquired to the boy, how is the report?

Boy replied, Sir, in some it is normal and in some you need to improve. I saw GL Ghosh in him, my Class Teacher those days. Report was slowly unfolded and eyes started rolling through the percentage achieved in each of the subjects.

As I finished reading, walked up to Mum with reports in hand like a school kid and murmured, Passed, but low marks. Will improve next time. Promise.