THE BROKEN WINDOW
Today Menon Academy is a girls school to reckon with (=worthy to be considered). It is named after Shankaranand Menon, ICS who raised it from the plinth to whatever of it stands today, defying (= challenging) the ruins of time. It was about thirty years from now when the small town was a sub-divisional headquarter and Mr. Menon its SDO. There have been minor additions since. One such is small building at one corner and close to the boundary wall, meant for Music, Dance and Drama classes.
The school strength is ordinary. But in view of its reputation the Central Board has picked it as centre of examinations for another school which has incurred (= suffered) a bad name. In consequence the Headmistress has included the Music bloc for the purpose.
The preparations for the exam are in full gear. The Headmistress, product of a missionary college, is perfectly aware of her staff-good, bad and indifferent. The Controller of Examinations is briefed (= advised) thoroughly so that each room has at least one invigilator (= guard) of proven worth.
The first two days of stiff conduct sent a shiver through the guardians and students. But there is no remedy, they thought. The Superintendent is a granite in human shape.
But Kamal Kanta Jha would not be cowed down (= humbled) by such arguments. His daughter panicked (= became nervous) to see the condition in the first two days. She created a scene in the house where Mr. Kamal Kant put up-crying, protesting and what not. Her father set to thinking…
The Mathematics paper fell on Monday. Today it being Sunday Mr. Kamal Kant set out keeping close to his bosom (=maintaining secrecy) his well thought-out plan. His core (= central) plan was to forge (= make by force) a tunnel of supplying chits to her daughter. But it seemed exceedingly difficult as the centre was made up like a fortress. But he know. He had a mole’s wit or intelligence that can always dig through the hardest soil to meet its purpose. Mr. Kamal Kant knew, too, that God, the Almighty, is always gracious. He always provides the rigid community with black sheep. He knew that the strongest dams must have secret sluices. Mr. Kamal Kant set out armed with this divine philosophy.
Madhuri, Kamal Kant’s daughter, was allotted a sick-bed in a small ante-room of the Music Block. She came wrapped head to foot. The month, too, February, helped her in warding off (= preventing) people’s doubts.
“Madhuri has solved ninety percent of the sums!” One of her classmates spoke amazed. But, being challenged, she returned, “Yes, its the broken window.” Impossible. The rooms have no chinks (= narrow or their openings), let alone broken window.
The news got circulated fast as a rumour does; but here it had a basis. The little broken window, in a small and neglected room, and within a building that seldom played a vital role in the examinations, was indeed nobody’s concern. Subodh Jha, the man entrusted with the seat-plan, could little afford to ignore the money that Mr. Kamal Kant had promised. But he was sure that there was no scope for any supply line, as such. Mr. Kamal Kant roped in (= trapped) another staff of the school, a poor peon. He knew of this small outlet in the heavily guarded fortress as he shut the doors and the windows daily. At first he refused to subscribe to plot. But money, the great solvent of a poor man’s honesty, and an assurance that his name shall not be divulged (= made open), served the purpose.
The seat-plan clerk turned in (= earned) a few coins more through ‘the open window’. The protest against it was not much vocal, because, where more or less everyone hopes to fish in troubled waters (= take advantage of irregularities), rarely anybody would come forward to challenge. Secretly more and more beneficiaries (= those who derived benefit) joined the contract and Subodh Jha prospered.
But another metaphor may be suggested here. It is a truth that even a small slit (= opening) in a brand new mosquito net may become a curse for the sleeper. Because the first explorer mosquito gradually opens a track for a score of others that follow. Similarly Kamal Kant’s brainchild (= outgrowth of mind) – ‘the broken window’ – directed other reapers who rushed to the harvest (= the field full of crops) boon. In time ‘the open window’ began to break the hush and silence of the school. The Headmistress, who like the peaceful sleeper under the curtain, felt safe and secure, woke up to the unusual hum ‘the broken window’.
When a week was left of the tenure (= period) of the examination, she become alert. She personally inspected the room and verified the fact, and called to question Subodh Jha.
“Why did you put the girl in that dingy and unhealthy room if she was sick? She asked.
The seat-plan clerk was wordless.
“Then, why did you bypass me? According to our rules, you ought to have got her examined by our own doctor?”
“Madam, she had with her a medical certificate” Mr. Jha stammered.
“And how is it that for two or three days some girl or the other falls sick and I have no knowledge? Is my school under the spell of an epidemic, I ask?” She boomed.
The Headmistress swept the floor clean with her wonted (= habitual) passion. The clerk was withdrawn and reported against. Others escaped punishment. Only Madhuri’s answer papers were set aside for scrutiny.
Madhuri, Kamal Kant’s daughter, felt exposed and humiliated. She shut herself in and refused to appear in the next papers. Her father, his master-plan failing through, sank deep in distress. “The broken window’ broke his heart.
