Those 'guiding' days

In case the title has conned you into believing that this post is about making life altering crucial decisions – choosing the way to go when presented with a fork in the road in the woods or the guiding force that goes into making such choices, I’m sorry I would have to disappoint you because this is rather an absolutely frivolous memory from my very own “sea of lived experiences and memories”, belonging to a time that is about a decade in the past and recently washed ashore, spilling into my waking thoughts.

Circa 2005

Nagpur

Though I knew a bit about Scouting and Guiding from my previous school and camping out sounded like something of an adventure to me and I was in awe of all those who were a part of it, I surely wasn’t expecting to have my share of this particular adventure, until, of course, I joined my school at Nagpur. Here, opting to be a part of Scouts and Guides was not an option; everyone was a part of it by default!

And as luck would have it, I was also one of the students who were selected to attend a testing camp, which was to be held in another school, not very far away. I wonder how my parents agreed to it because it involved – 1) staying away from home, though just for two days and (2) missing classes and neither of these two were very appealing for them, so I’m guessing they might have relented on my insistence.

I remember how, to our teachers’ displeasure, we were allowed to miss some classes and complete our ‘log books’ – which was basically copying chunks of the Scouts and Guides pocket book into our notebooks. We would sit outside the classrooms, in the corridors, scribbling, so that way the teachers would also know that we were not out in the playground squandering the liberty that we were given. That’s not all, even after school hours, we would meet at one of the team mates’ house and carry on scribbling madly, maybe drawing strength and enthusiasm from this collective, mindless marking of pages. Oh, and the log book had to be ‘beautified’ too. Back in those days, that translated into us ‘shading’ the pages with crayons post writing, ‘designing’ each page differently. It was only later that I realised how I had gone a little overboard with the ‘shading’ and ‘designing’ process and was scared to submit my log book even to our group leader.

The D-Day, rather the D-Evening arrived. The ‘team’ which had to represent our school in the ‘alien territory’ assembled for the ‘mission briefing’ in the familiar premises of our school. We were to be accompanied by a teacher, the group leader. With our bags packed for every possible situation that could occur, we set out for the camp.

                                **************************************************

We arrived at the camp the same evening. It was a journey of just about an hour. Our group leader found out about the accommodation allotted to us and directed the scouts and the guides to their respective rooms. She was to stay with us. [We envied the luck of our scout team mates as they would get to live unrestrained, unsupervised. But as they’ll later recount, their block had some issues with electricity, so they got to have their own set of (mis)adventures!]

For the next two days, a strange classroom was to be our home. We were given the schedule of all the tests that were to happen next day. The whole experiencing of living in the ‘camp’ was one big test! I don’t know about the rest of them, but when I heard that anyone of us could be picked to lead the ‘B.P. 6’ morning exercise, I was totally unsettled.

Despite the strange surroundings, I slept like a log, only to be woken up at what seemed to me the middle of the night. At 4:30 am! A fellow guide (I’m going to call her K), woke us all up. As annoyed as I was, I knew I couldn’t afford to go back to sleep. We donned our uniforms and set out of our block. There was still no trace of the Sun in the sky but to my amazement there were other people who were up and about! The only thing that made the situation a little more bearable was the ‘morning’ tea.

The first activity of the day, the much dreaded exercise session didn’t begin till 6 am, so we just sat there, taking in the fresh air. Later, the drill was endured constantly praying and muttering ‘please not me, please don’t pick me’ under my breath, while all the participants of the camp stood in a circle and the camp director picked scouts and guides at random to lead the exercise. For once, the odds remained in my favour and I came out of this activity unscathed.

Then began the other, actual tests – written, oral, practical – in that order. I remember tying the same kind of knot in a similar manner thrice before the examiner found it satisfactory, to get the signature on my tiny report card, which was necessary after having completed a particular test.

Also, the log books were to be submitted to the camp director. There were rumours that she tore/ returned the ones she didn’t feel were up to the mark. I was scared that my ‘beautified’ log book might meet the same end.

That evening, the camp threw a curveball that none of us expected. A ‘cultural night’. Performances were to be done by the participants. And it was competitive. Groups from other schools seemed to be well prepared for it but we had no clue that something like this would happen. But K, our human alarm clock, had a solution to this too. She knew a folk song; she choreographed it for us then and there. We were painfully under rehearsed, uncoordinated and without proper ‘costumes’. It was embarrassing! But for the lack of an alternative, this was our entry for the night.

It was our turn; we hesitantly went on with our performance. A few minutes into it and to everybody’s surprise, the camp director rose from her seat and joined us! The lull gave way to loud cheering! This was the best turn of events we could have asked for! We were thrilled, absolutely delighted. And no points for guessing the winners of the cultural night!

As deliriously happy that we were and all praise for K for devising the plan at the eleventh hour. We (including our group leader) still asked her not to wake us up at 4:30 am again!

Next day was to be the concluding day of the camp, which started with ‘Sarva Dharma Prarthna’ and I remember zoning out for a good part of it. Prizes and certificates were also distributed. And I don’t remember much else happening on that day, except that we did not leave until evening. I’m not sure if I remember this correctly but I think one of the guides from our group left without informing the group leader because she lived nearby. That caused some frenzy, but we were later able to confirm that she had reached home.

Oh! And I got back my log book – saabut – in one piece and I even got an ‘A’ in it!

Now all I was looking forward was to reach home soon, which for some reasons I don’t remember, didn’t happen any sooner. But we managed to get into the last jam packed city bus to home, maybe the last test of our patience and endurance. And that was it.

Mischief managed.