Another school day. Another chance for the school to spend. Sorry. Another chance to spend for the school !. At first instance it is difficult to spot the difference between the two. It was difficult for us to spot the intention of the school. Was the school spending for us or were we spending for the school.
Whatever the explanation be, we all enjoyed the school day. Raffle tickets were of course a major attraction for me. It gave me an equal chance, a chance to to win something. It didn't seem right. I was one of the most sought after boys for dances and plays. But it was very rare that I won anything.
Teachers those days would beg me to join their team. That would solve one of the main problems you face in an all boys school. Very few boys matched up to me in a girl's costume. I had something extra in me. No No. Not in the anatomy. But teachers always preferred me in a girl's costume. They didn't have to bother to look for another girl and the hidden benefit- they didn't have to to offer me any substantial role. No wonder I never won anything. I would always end up doing silly roles. I remember, once I was a goddess, next time Virgin Mary, then a mermaid...
The raffle results were announced during the School Day and the winners shared the same stage. For boys like me this was the best chance. For all my girlish talents, this was one great chance I would work hard for.
The school sold tickets. Rupees five each. Small white coupons. Name of the school printed in black, bold font. And the number of the raffle below. The coupons came in a bundle of 50. We were expected to buy. We were expected to sell for the school. I used to buy many myself. And sell many more.
My father never bought one from me. I used his money to buy for myself. Neighbours had no other option but to buy from me. How could they refuse a small boy like me. They wanted their children to be like us. Me and my brother. We were role models. We were quite good at keeping our image in the locality. No one knew the real us, the nasty side of us. The next market was obviously our relatives. Unfortunately my father had to pay for most of them as well. No wonder he never used to buy for himself.
In the end the tally would usually read
Self-10
Father-0
Mother-0
Neighbours-10
Relatives-20
Our teachers had their targets target too. We used to joke around that they had performance based commissions. Nothing else explained their insatiable hunger for more effort from us. Some of them used to read out the rank list of the sales each one of us generated. And then there was one teacher whom we better knew as "The Bhandari"(the cook). He used to cane us. Cane all those who didn't sell a minimum number. Of course the official reason would always be different. May be he liked to cook his students like this. That's why someone named him so.
It was supposed to motivate us. Why else would they do it? But for us it was different. The sales rank list always followed our little "Forbes Rich List" in the class. The richest sold the most usually. Or sometimes it was the "Forbes Most Greedy List". Greed for the chance to win the Raffle. The more u sold, the better equipped you were to win something in on the school day. But for the majority, it was the 'EMBARRASSING LIST'. The lower you are in the list, the poorer you usually are.
I was usually spared from the embarrassment. I never topped the list. It was embarrassing to be on top. The boys put them in another list. The 'Untouchables List'. I was never in that. But I always sold more than the last ten combined. Still (,) no way near the top. Some parents wanted their sons to win more desperately than mine. Or they were simply richer than mine. They usually sometimes sold more than the last twenty combined.
Every year we performed this ritual. And every year I would wait for my chance. And finally I joined them on the stage. I won the second prize. I was in the stage in my costume. Obviously in a girl's costume. A purple red gold sequined skirt. A gold sequined milky white blouse. Full sleeves covering my long arms. And a black half jacket. Donning a wig with long hair, I was on the stage. And I won the second prize. My mother might still have it with her as a prized possession. A lunch box. A two tier lunch box with double fastener.
My mother declared that I was a lucky boy destined for more riches. Neighbours thought that I had actually won something worthy. They saw me in the costume with the prize. They were happy for me. They should be. They had contributed 10 coupons every year. And I kept the secret well. They never knew about my nasty side.
I deserved it too. My father kept me up in the Forbes list every year. For all the coupons that I sold, I won a lunch box. Our school must have done their numbers right. They also did their PR right. We always felt that the school was doing this to give all the money to the winners. They did. The second prize winner got a Lunch Box. I wonder what happened to the rest of the money. They should have just increased the fees. Five rupees for each student as raffle compensation charge. That would have been more moral.
All of us now like to play the raffle again. But then for a different prize. But the winners list still follows the Forbes list. Now schools play raffle directly with parents. Like our raffle, here too, the richest top the list every time. Their children get admission to the best schools and colleges. Like our raffle, no one knows what happens to the money.
But unlike our raffle, the list toppers are never embarrassed.
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