When Master Kejriwal accused his maths teacher of being corrupt
“Today we will learn about the infinite geometric series, students,” the maths teacher, Shanta Sharma, said.
“Yes, ma’m,” students of the ninth grade of Holy Angels school in Haryana chorused.
The class was in full attendance except for one empty bench in the last row.
“Where is Master Ashutosh?” Ms Sharma queried. “Is the boy interested in passing this year?” The students didn’t answer but many of them were gazing up at the ceiling.
The maths teacher looked up and shrieked to see young Ashutosh, hanging upside down from the ceiling.
“You fool,” she shrieked, as Master Ashutosh finally lost his grip and fell down.
“The agents of the Modee were attacking me, madam,” Ashutosh stammered, alluding to his ongoing conflict with the so called lotus gang from the next section, as he got up but Ms Sharma was in no mood for explanations.
“The English teacher tells me you are hopeless. I can see why. Now get out,” she hollered.
Ms Sharma was not very hopeful about this dim-witted kid. Engineering or medicine were ruled out for him. Which profession would he finally enter, she thought, as she shut the door on Ashtutosh, and resumed the lecture.
“Yesterday, we learnt the general formula for summation of a geometric series, my dear students,” she said, “but when the absolute value of the ratio between successive terms, r, is less than one, then the infinite series a + ar + ar^2 and so on sums to …”
The teacher scribbled ‘a/1-r’ on the board, the chalk making a screeching noise as she did so.
“If you say so, then indeed it must be true, miss,” butted in Master Yogendra Yadav, a front bench student, “but would it be too much to ask for a proof?”
“I’m coming to that, Yogendra,” the teacher replied, a little testily. This Yogendra was overall mediocre but couched himself in sanctimoniousness, always insisting on proofs and raw data to back up facts. She would have to have a talk with his parents to get him to tone down a bit. He was becoming more painful by the day.
“The reason this infinite series sums to the expression is because,” the teacher began before she was interrupted by a wail. It was Master Kejriwal, the class monitor. A brilliant kid, the teacher’s pet, one who could be relied on to give the list of students who had copied their homework.
“What’s wrong, Arvind?” the teacher said, looking at her favorites pupil.
Master Kejriwal’s eyes were blazing with fury, his facial features contorted into a grotesque expression of ineffable rage.
“You are corrupt,” Master Kejriwal stuttered. “With great sadness, I will have to expose you also, miss.”
The teacher was taken aback. Was Master Kejriwal on to something? She had indeed taken sick leave the previous week so that she could host the neighbourhood kitty party. Was Master Kejriwal going to rat on her also?
“Er…what’s the issue, Arvind?” she said, trying to regain her wits.
“You used the term ‘sum’ which is blatantly incorrect. The series on the left only converges to a/1-r. It is a limiting case. You have misled the students, madam,” Master Kejriwal remonstrated, tears of anger flowing down his eyes.
Ms Sharma was stunned. Such exactitude, such commitment to precision grounded in axioms, such analytical clarity but most impressive of all, such fearlessness in questioning authority. The boy would be a misfit in the real world with all its imperfections, approximations and ambiguity. He belonged in the world of numbers.
Ms Sharma began to clap in awe. “Brilliant. That was simply brilliant. Arvind, you are destined for greatness,” she said, eyes rolling in wonder. The rest of the students also began to clap.
“
Mein to aam student hoon, miss. Meri koi aukat nahin [
I am a mediocre student, miss. I don’t possess any greatness],” a blushing Kejriwal ventured with false humility, though he clearly seemed to be enjoying the adulation.
“No, you are outstanding, my dear. With such analytical aptitude and dogged determination, a great career in the sciences lies ahead of you. Not just any of the sciences but the queen of sciences, mathematics,” Ms Sharma proclaimed. “Arvind, promise me you will not turn into yet another engineer who goes on to do a MBA so that he can peddle FMCG products or, even worse, become a
sarkari babu.”
“I promise on my descendants, miss,” Arvind said, “that I will devote myself to the pursuit of truth and truth alone as a scientist.”
Alas, another character trait of Arvind’s would reveal itself, in a painful manner, over the next few years. Much to Ms Sharma’s dismay, Arvind would sit and crack the JEE to study mechanical engineering rather than pursue a BSc in mathematics from a reputed institute. And then he would do another U turn to mug for the civils to get into the IRS. And then another U turn to become a civil society activist. And then another U turn to become a politician fighting corruption. And then another U turn to…
“I’ve now completely given up on the boy,” Ms Sharma, now a septuagenarian, long retired from her profession of teaching, told
The UnReal Times.