The D-Day had arrived. One of the most important milestones of parents’ life was to be reached today. It was the day of the admission test of my daughter in one of the prestigious schools of Mumbai. And we wanted to look every bit concerned parents. Hence my wife was visibly nervous and I was silent. A sleeping angel was awoken from her innocent and dreamy world to face one of her first tests. A test of competence/intelligence or whatever they wanted to test- at the ripe young age of 3!

Those of you who have read my earlier blog ‘Anglican Onslaught on Innocence’ would know that a lot of planning had gone into this career shift of my daughter. At age less than 3 when innocent little children of my colony refused to play with my daughter due to her discomfort in English, I had taken a very costly decision (for a government servant) to send her to one of the ‘happening’ schools where one is taught to even laugh and cry in English and extirpate the last vestiges of vernacularism. The move, though against my own best judgment, was warranted due to the force of the times and overriding parental concerns.

The shift had yielded rich(?) dividends and in no time my daughter had started trying to say things which she considered to be English. Whenever somebody asked her,” Kya Tumko Angrezi Aati Hai?” she used to immediately retort,”Nahi, Mujhe English Aati Hai!” She used to hold something in her hand like a microphone and start mouthing inanities which she considered to be English. She used to recite a few lines which she had picked up from Cartoon Channels. A rationalist was concerned over this impact of peer pressure at such a young age; a father was slightly happy.

We reached the school premises much before the specified time and found the place crowded with kids in all types of dresses and parents in different stages of nervousness. I did not hear a single parent talking to their child in Hindi or any vernacular language. Last minute preparations were on full swing. However the best thing was that almost all the children were unaware of the reason for all this commotion!

After signing in our presence, my daughter was taken to a room where a stern looking Miss forbade our entry. From that room my daughter was taken to another room and from there to a third room. The eyes’ of all the anxious parents were following the journey and the route of their children, their ingress and egress from those rooms where it seems some intelligence judging device was installed. Those twenty-something minutes seemed like ages and finally when my daughter emerged elated from those rooms, I was on seventh sky. She was very happily showing me ‘the star’ which she had received from her Miss. And an overjoyed father readily took that as a conclusive sign that his daughter had done exceedingly well in those tests despite noticing that every child had been given those 'stars'!

A warm welcome awaited my daughter in my open arms. For once shaking off the restrain on display of emotions in public places, I lofted her in the air and caught her at the height of her giggle. Preliminaries over, I wanted to know from her what all was asked. But she did not seem to understand my question. I paraphrased my question and asked her how what all games Miss played with her. She told me that Miss played ‘animals’, ‘blocks’, ‘colours’ and happily informed me that Miss also told her that ‘She was a good girl.’

I said,” Yes, of course, you are a good girl, darling.”

She replied,” Papa, you are also a good girl.”