What was the best compliment you’ve received?

One year separates me and my brother. My brother Raman was born in the month of October 1965. I was born almost a year later, in November 1966. (Please, don’t blame my parents.)

We looked similar in appearance when we were young. So identical that people found it tough to differentiate between us.

My dad worked as an engineer for the government. We lived in a remote town called Sivaganga in Tamilnadu when we were born.

We often played together. We never missed each other. It took time for our friends too to actually see who’s who. It was good fun though.

(We are now 59 years old and still many can’t call our names right!)

My brother Raman started school at five, and I missed him so much. I couldn’t wait to go to school.

A year was soon gone. Ram was now in grade two, and I had just started. In the same school. 

As we were so close, I couldn’t see him sitting too far away in a different class. So I would give a miss in my class, run, sneak through and sit next to him.

That soon became a routine every day. Five days a week.

Teachers found this amusing. They sent staff and boys to bring me to my class. They used to drag me along the floor as I cried and rolled. No mercy.

When school announced the break, I would run back to where my brother sat. A classic Chaplin movie on display at school.

My parents were worried. They sat with the head teacher and staff discussing ways to stop me.

To make matters worse, my brother too joined the sit-in-protest (dharna). We both cried in buckets when staff tried separating us.

Teachers suggested various measures, ranging from punishing us to tying us with ropes to admitting us into separate schools, to some even giving a hint as to seeking a transfer for my dad. So sad.

The head teacher rolled her eyes and raked her brains. How just the two of us made the entire school sweat it out. Not a day passed without the teachers thinking about us.

A week was gone. How to separate us was now the talk of town.

My dad soon found a solution. He rushed to meet the head teacher. The staff were also joined.

If the school didn’t mind, my dad said he was ready to register his children as twins. And I could continue, from grade two, along with my brother Raman.

That let me give a whole year a miss in grade one. Wow!

Sounds alright. The head teacher was convinced. The staff heaved a sigh of relief. Necessary paper work was to be done.

When my brother and I entered school the next day, the whole school welcomed us with claps and I was called a ‘child prodigy’. Prodigy for what?

A prodigy for giving one whole year a miss and starting school from grade two.

‘Child Prodigy’ was the best compliment I received. Sorry! WE received.