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FEAR OF GETTING A SUPPLEMENTARY
Posted on Sunday, October 11 @ 22:32:13 MST by gops
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In the ‘60s, one thing Thomasonians were really scared of was failing in a subject. Anyone who got less than 33% marks in a subject got what was known as a supplementary. In other words, a second chance to clear the subject in which he had failed.
Even today, 39 years after I graduated from Roorkee, I wake up in the middle of the night fearing I have got a supplementary. My wife Sudha can vouch for that.
FEAR OF GETTING A SUPPLEMENTARY
by
Jagmohan Chopra
B.E.Chemical,Batch of 1970
jagmchopra@yahoo.co.in
In the ‘60s, one thing Thomasonians were really scared of was failing in a subject. Anyone who got less than 33% marks in a subject got what was known as a supplementary. In other words, a second chance to clear the subject in which he had failed. Even today, 39 years after I graduated from Roorkee, I wake up in the middle of the night fearing I have got a supplementary. My wife Sudha can vouch for that.
Thanks to our seniors, many of whom had worn this tag, the procedure for overcoming supplementaries had been simplified and made as much user-friendly as possible. Once you got a supplementary, there were four things you were supposed to do, one, stop the information from reaching home, two, cook up an excuse to stay back in the University during holidays, three, ask for some extra pocket money to pay for food etc. and, four, chat up to the concerned professor to get the smallest of hints about the upcoming exam.
The whole exercise started with the University writing a letter to your dad informing him about your dismal performance in the examination and asking him to ensure that you took your studies more seriously. Students, on the other hand, tried to thwart the University’s effort by calling up a trusted friend, relation or servant at home and asking him to stop the letter from reaching Mughal-e-Azam, euphemism for one’s dad in those days, in return for espresso coffee or movie or both during your next visit to your home town. In case the letter did reach Mughal-e-Azam, everyone knew what the answer would be “Forget engineering, come back home, there are better things to do here.”
Once the letter was intercepted and taken care of, it was time to write home to say that you have been selected by the University to work on an important project during holidays and you will need some extra pocket money for that. Also, since the project will involve collection of data from Roorkee and nearby areas, the scooter or mobike lying at home may be sent to Roorkee for the holidays. This would later be used for visiting friends in Haridwar and Dehra Dun. More often than not, the money order and scooter came with a message saying that everyone at home was proud of you and you should keep the family and University flag flying high.
Preparations for the supplementary exam usually started by analysing the question paper you could not clear and your answer to the same. It didn’t take long to know that you didn’t fare badly because you didn’t have the grey matter to solve the paper, but because you spent all the time discussing useless topics in the cafeteria, playing carrom or billiards, seeing Teesri Manzil ten times over, listening to Begum Akhtar’s ghazals, playing cards or sleeping. However intensive study in the room in the absence of all your friends, premeditated visits to the concerned professor to remove your difficulties and visit to the library prepared you well for the onerous task.
The only redeeming feature of getting a supplementary was the fact that you were not the only one getting it. There were students in other classes and branches to give you company. And the silver lining of it all was that preparation time for the supplementary coincided with the annual Urs at Piran Kaliyar, a small hamlet on the outskirts of Roorkee, where mujras were held all through the night. It was said that you were not a complete Thomasonian if you had not been to Piran Kaliyar. Did it mean that getting a supplementary was necessary for you to become a Thomasonian?
I’m not sure.
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