I am at the
back of the exam room number 6 at Orong school. It is 20 past nine on 27th of June 2012.
Fog sweeps in through the open window by my side. It is
silent…except for the scribbling of pen on paper and the quiet shuffling of
pages.
It is exam
time and I am invigilating a group of students in exam room # 6. They are a
mixture of class IX, XII Science, and XI Arts students.
Their
occasional cough takes me from my writing to glance around the room. I know I
need not be too vigilant. I already checked their pockets and hands before I
let them enter the room. I also put my initials on their answer sheets. So, now
I am content to let them write in peace.
The fog still
rolls in, making my room a bit darker. I contemplate walking to the switchboard
and switching on the light, but it’s still bright enough.
I glance out
of the window. I cannot see Ae-rong, the opposite slope. I cannot even
see the bacho (archery range) which is a mere 25 meters away. Everything
is white. But I can hear others in other rooms…writing exams like in mine.
Wait…I can
also hear a constant roaring which wasn’t there before. It is Morong Ri,
the river which flows between Orong and Ae-rong. It seems
swollen…I can make out from the sound, and I imagine a brown muddy river, angrily
rushing down.
Now it is a
bit clear. Out of the opposite window, I can see the assembly ground, though
not as clear. I see a thaptshap and his son. I see Lop TP and
Rajesh Sir. It is their paper today so they are doing their rounds…trying to
help students clarify typo and printing errors.
Again it is
white…seems as if I am floating in the clouds. Am I high?
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