[22/26] Volcano
This story is part of the A-Z challenge that I’m doing.
I remember how our teachers used to ask us to build models of various things during our summer vacation. Sometimes, it used to be a globe. Sometimes, a monument. And sometimes, a volcano.
During one such summer vacation, I was assigned the homework to build a model of a volcano. I, like an obedient student, noted it down in my diary and came back home. Every year, my plan for summer vacation was to finish the homework in the first couple of weeks itself and then spend the rest of the vacation chilling out, but that never happened. That year wasn’t different. But it was different in a sense. I did finish all my homework in first few weeks and spent the last few weeks making the volcano.
Now, before I tell anything further, let me tell you that I’ve realized that I’ve inherited, not cultivated, my gene of ‘building’ things. Everyone in my family appreciates making stuff. I was told by my classmates that there are shops in the market that sold these pre-built models of globes and volcanos. I presented the proposal to my father, who straight away denied stating the reason, “If you’ll build, you’ll learn. If you don’t, you won’t.”
I wasn’t really happy about the situation because making the model would take away at least a week out of my chilling time. Nevertheless, I started making. I started by zeroing on a solid base, which I made out of a thick plywood. I coated the plywood with paper mash to give it a texture. I then started looking out for a foundational shape on top of which I could build my volcano. I found an unused earthen utensil.
By this time, I was joined by my brothers in helping me build the volcano. I decided to cover the earthen utensil using paper mash in the shape of a volcano and planned to color it in bright red as if lava is pouring out. Apparently, the plan didn’t impress my brothers. They said, “Paper mash?! Really?! Bad choice. You’ll paint the lava?! Bad choice again. If we are doing it, then let’s do it properly.” Then they concluded their complaints with the phrase, “LAVA MUST FLOW.”
We threw away my paper mash base, and instead built again using plaster of Paris. We used the earthen utensil and erected a pipe in the center of it before covering it up with thick layers of plaster of Paris. We then brought out our set of oil colors and colored it in not just bright red, but in the shades of black, green and red. The project took us a week to complete, and it looked like a real volcano, not the ones you see in cartoons.
It was the time for lava. My elder brother mixed red food color and baking soda and poured it in the pipe that made the mouth of the volcano. We left it to dry under the sun and within a day, it was ready. It turned out to be quite heavy. I remember, how when the schools reopened, I was holding the model of volcano wrapped in the newspaper and was trying to find a seat on the school bus.
Upon reaching the school, everyone kept their models in a corner of the class. Everyone who was assigned the homework to make the model of the volcano had submitted very similar looking models as if one person made them all. I realized my model was way different than theirs. I liked mine but I was embarrassed to reveal my over-engineered model and therefore, I submitted mine covered in the newspaper. I didn’t unwrap it.
Everyone, one by one, showed their models to the teacher and got the marks awarded for it. The teacher too mentioned, “You weren’t supposed to buy the models. You were supposed to make them yourself.” At that point, I wanted to stand up and tell the teacher that I had made mine and it sat in the corner of the class wrapped under the newspapers. But I didn’t. More than pride, I was embarrassed to have such a different volcano than everyone else.
In my mind, I was saying, “If my brothers hadn’t overtaken my project, I would have shown my model too and got the marks awarded.”
Months passed and my model still lay there in the corner, wrapped in the newspaper. The year was approaching the conclusion and by then, I had given up hopes of ever revealing my homework to the teacher. One day, when not many students were present in the class, the teacher announced, “I won’t teach today as there aren’t many people. You people can do whatever you feel like.” She then turned to the class monitor and asked, “Let’s clean the almirah. It contains lots of waste from the summer vacation submissions.”
Along with the class monitor, the teacher started cleaning the almirah, throwing everything that it contained. Many models were broken by then, and she picked up and threw them in the dustbin. Somewhere near the bottom of the almirah, she encountered a model covered in the newspaper. She tried to lift it and noticed it was unusually heavy. She turned to the class monitor and asked, “What’s this?”
“I don’t know, madam.”
She tore the newspaper and under it sat my model. My volcano. The one with black, green and red shades. It had accumulated some dust then but the teacher dusted it, picked it up and kept it on the table. She saw it from various angles as if she was trying to find something on it. She seemed to find it when she called out, “Mohit.”
I stood up. She asked, “Is it yours?”
“Yes, madam.”
“I don’t remember seeing it during the submissions. Have you submitted it yet?”
“No, madam.”
“Why?”
“Because… Because, it’s different, madam. It’s different from the other volcanos that you saw.”
She smiled at me, I turned embarrassingly redder. She then said, “This volcano will always stay in the almirah of the staff room, Mohit. This is beautiful. And you’re therefore awarded full marks for your summer vacation.”
I then, said, “This works too, madam.”
She didn’t understand what I said. I clarified, “If you pour some vinegar in the mouth of the volcano, the lava will flow. My brothers said, ‘Lava must flow.’”
I don’t know if she ever tried pouring in the vinegar but I do know that she kept that volcano on top of the staff room’s almirah. That almirah was to showcase the best of the models every year. The top of the almirah was what Oscars are to movies. Every day, I’d cross the staff room gazing at my volcano that sat silently on top of the almirah. It stayed there for several years and then I left the school.
Perhaps, summer vacation homework is to make us learn something and what I learned that year was —
- If you’ll make it, you’ll learn it. If you don’t, you won’t.
- I shouldn’t be afraid to show up just because I am different.
- And, the lava must flow.
