To Know The Worst Is Sweet

“And that’s why I gave your name for the competition. You can meet Chhaya Ma’am and she’ll tell you all that is there for you to know to participate in this competition.”

“All right, Ma’am.” I was at a loss for words currently. This was because my class teacher—without consulting me---gave my name for an inter-house competition. She thinks I can “represent my class and my house well.” 

“I hope you get selected. I want you to.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

All I could think about was that there was nothing I knew about MUN… and the fact that Ma’am didn’t ask me before giving my name to Chhaya Ma’am, whom I also knew nothing about. 

Anyway, I might not get selected. I don’t know the selection criteria but my gut feeling tells me so because there are more deserving people who can deal with public speaking. And I’m not one of them.

On the next PTM, I’ll be meeting our seniors along with the rest of the kids whose names have been given for the competition. Our seniors are from the Humanities stream and have participated in and won prizes in MUN competitions. So there’s no one better who can guide us in this matter. That’s all I know about them.

After being done with the PTM, I left for the room my class teacher had asked me to go to. Our seniors will meet and brief us about what MUN is there. Honestly, I don’t want to know.

I reached the classroom where Humanities students study. Also, I learned that Chhaya Ma’am is the class teacher for 11th-12th Humanities. I’ve not seen her face yet but since she teaches Political Science and hosts MUN inter-house competitions in our school (information I found out after asking around) she’ll help us prepare our content.

I only see students from other sections and other houses. And I’m the only one from my class so that means, I’m my only support system here. There were students from a grade above mine too but I didn’t know anyone so my eyes naturally spotted the most familiar faces in the room, Trisha and Sukriti from section A.

I absolutely hated conversing with the students from section A, the Toppers’ class. I find them all repulsive for they’re too arrogant due to being from the Toppers’ class. And this isn’t just my opinion about them, many students have had terrible experiences whenever they visited section A.

I was once there when their class teacher was asking them to be more disciplined for they have an image to maintain. She even compared them with students from other classes right when I was there and asked her students to “behave on par with students who score lower marks” than them. Never had I ever felt so humiliated as much as I did then. But the fact that their behavior was terrible didn’t make me feel defeated.

I try to justify their behavior for they have worked hard to get where they are so it’s natural that they’ll be proud, but then I talk to them and I’m compelled to take my words of appreciation back.

I only know a few people from that class, like Trisha and Sukriti, from Red and Yellow House respectively. So, I approached them to catch up.

“Hi, guys,” I high-fived Trisha because we were closer, “I didn’t know I’d find you here.”

“Hey, it’s been long. You don’t come by our class, we don’t get to meet often anymore.” Trisha sulked.

“Haha, I’m sorry. I just don’t feel comfortable staying in anybody’s class but mine for too long.”

“I understand that. Are there more students from your class?” Trisha waved her finger around.

“No, it’s just me.”

“Really? Why didn’t more students give their names from your class?” That was Sukriti’s question.

“Sakshi Ma’am only gave my name as far as I know, the others weren’t asked.” Because that was the limit. Only one student from a regular section, and the rest from the Toppers’ section. I couldn’t say it on their faces though because I knew it’d sound meaner than I wanted it to.

“I’m glad. If we get selected, we’ll get to meet often.” Trisha smiled at me.

“I don’t want to get selected, to be honest. In fact, I think I might leave before our seniors arrive.”

“Why, so?”

“I just think I might feel lonely here.”

“Oh, I understand, I’d have felt the same but you should stay and see how things come about," Sukriti smiled at me. "We're here to give you company, though.” I smiled back at her.

“Yeah, stay for a while. And if you still don’t feel like taking part in this then you can leave after our seniors do.”

“All right.” 

We waited for 30 minutes and more students from a grade above too gathered in the classroom. I couldn’t get myself to talk to anybody. I’m not that social, thanks to my childhood friend, Anxiety.

I could see 2 students from each house from my grade, and 2 from each house from a grade above. Only 1 would get selected for his/her house, from both grades. 

“Hey, Trisha,” I tapped Trisha on her shoulder to get her attention for she was busy talking to a senior, “Where’s the other student from our grade, who gave his name from my house?”

“Oh, Rishi hasn’t come yet?” She looked around. “He was done with the PTM long ago, so I’m guessing he’s just roaming around. He might come late.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You might get selected if he doesn’t come, to your luck.” That was a senior from Red house, trying to remind me of my luck, which I lacked thereof.

I could only grin at him. It was fake but I had to pretend I don’t have a problem with being selected. 2 people know my weakness here, as it is.

Our seniors arrived, but Rishi didn’t. Our seniors were people who’d already passed out from school. I knew them because they were popular faces. They gave us a detailed explanation of what MUN was, how to behave and talk during it, and how necessary research was for MUN.

Everyone around me seemed familiar with MUN for they were nodding along and even asking questions.

As for me, I’d zoned out. So half of my time was spent trying to bring my attention back to what was being said around me.

To add to my misery, the criterion of getting selected was based on a short GK quiz. Whoever knew the most answers, would get selected.

The person who was supposed to compete with me, Rishi, bailed on participating in the competition. I got selected from Blue house from my grade, consequently.

Even though I was cursing Rishi in my mind, on the outside I was happy because I didn’t have to do anything and got selected. 

If Rishi were here, I wouldn’t have gotten a chance to participate so after my cursing session was over, I thanked him in my mind.

Trisha and Sukriti also got selected so now I can talk with at least 2 people here.

From my house, a guy from a grade above I couldn’t care less about speaking to was selected. Trisha was bonding with the senior from her house and Sukriti with hers, but my partner was talking to his friend from his grade.

‘Good luck, Nikita’ is all I could say to myself.

After we were selected, Chhaya Ma’am summoned us twice before the day of the competition. We’d gotten only a week before it, so we’d had to show up with our contents a day after the PTM, leaving only 4 days for us to prepare.

Since I didn’t even know what MUN was, I began my research from the basics. I was going to represent India, I felt proud that I was representing my country and the rest had different countries. We’d have to describe the significance of the political actions of our country during some specified events and criticize the other countries unless our country had good relations with them.

So, during my research, I came across so many difficult words and started getting nervous as to how I’d perform during D-Day. To avoid being under-prepared I went through so many articles and even pulled all-nighters on school days!

I pitied myself for being stuck in something I didn’t want to but something about the fact that my class teacher had so much confidence in me that she wanted me to represent my class and house comforted me a lot. Even though I didn’t think I’d perform well, I was glad I got the chance.

Not to mention, I couldn’t take any leaves from school too to prepare diligently. I was mad that Chhaya Ma’am kept asking us to practice a lot but couldn’t ask our class teachers to let us practice on Friday.

So a grave consequence of that was that I’d have to attend 5 classes on Friday and then after the lunch break, the competition would take place. I’d have no time to look at my notes and organize my thoughts. I was mad.                                                              Anyway, I’ve already come too far to back off now. Many people will be disappointed in me if I do.

It’s finally Friday and right now I’m changing into the formal clothes required for the MUN participants to wear. I had my lunch but somehow, I still feel hungry.

It was dreadful to sit through 5 periods of lecture before this, I wish I’d gotten that time to practice my speaking skills or simply just add more content to my notes.

Earlier, I saw the other students bring devices for help but I haven’t brought one with me. I only have the notes that I prepared last night—which also reminds me that I’m running only on 3 hours of sleep so I should keep myself hydrated because my throat tends to get scratchy and dry when I am sleep-deprived.

I couldn’t sleep until 3 am because my mind was occupied with thoughts of today. 

Anyway, it’s showtime.

… 

The hosts or ‘Chairpersons’ were our seniors who had given us a detailed account of what MUN is. In the audience, students of 9th grade and 11th grade, along with Vice Principal Ma’am and our teachers would witness this competition.

I heard that a Nukkad Natak competition will take place at the same time as the MUN competition but those students won’t have any audience but only the judges. Unfair.

I’m nervous out of my wits.

…

The event began, and all the participants or ‘Delegates’ were asked if they would ‘abstain’ or ‘vote’- ‘yes’ or ‘no’ regarding the establishment of the topic the debate will take place on. That went just fine but not smoothly.

I could hear my breathy and hasty voice from the speakers in the auditorium. It was humiliating that right from the start, with the establishment of the topic, another thing about me being anxious was also established.

I tried to forget about it. Right next to me, my partner was also sitting and he seemed composed in comparison to me. I wanted to talk to him so that I could distract myself but he didn’t look my way.

Another thing that I was nervous about was that I’d forgotten to bring and wear a belt. Having a skinny body demanded that I wear tight pants that couldn’t let me breathe properly or that I adorn a belt. I forgot to do the latter. That issue was not noticeable as we had to stand only when it was our turn to speak.

Next, turn wise, all the delegates had to speak in regard to the topic. Since I’d not brought any device with me, all I could rely on were my notes. The notes could prove to be a hit or miss because I might have words on the paper that aren’t relevant.

And that’s exactly what happened. Just once, though. I didn’t have enough content and so, embarrassingly, I had to ‘yield’ my time to Trisha. Mistake one: I used personal pronouns. Mistake two: I yielded the time to someone who was NOT from my house. I didn't realize mistake two until later. The second time my turn came up, I had the words that were relevant and a speech that was lengthy enough to fill the time that was given to each delegate to speak. 

I thanked God at that moment because everyone had to speak only twice, unless, some smug delegates wanted to debate more with each other. I wasn’t one of the smug ones.

After all this was finally over, my partner, whom I wanted to lean on for comfort during the event, confronted me about not yielding the time to him.

“But, France and India have better relations than India and Pakistan, so I did what I thought was right at that moment,” I told him with an apologetic facial expression. He was representing Pakistan and Trisha, France. But, since I and him were from the same house, I was supposed to yield my time to him.

Our seniors gave us tips and advice after the event was over. I was mad that I had to face all the members there because it was obvious that I was regretting all of what had happened during the event. I dismissed whatever my seniors told us. I was too occupied with comforting myself internally. I just wanted to go home.

Since school was over too, we didn’t get a chance to change back in our school uniforms so we rushed to our classes. On my way back to class, I was having an internal monologue in an attempt to comfort myself.

It’s all right, two to three more students were as nervous as me and did worse, so it’s all good.

You managed to speak through a shaky voice, you managed to skim through your notes to find what to speak next with shaky hands. You did well, Nikita-

“Nikita! I got your bag and uniform!”

That was my friend, Ankita. Still waiting for me at the door of our classroom so that we could leave together, probably.

“Why are you still here?” I ran quickly towards her forgetting all about my monologue. “Bus students are supposed to leave first!”

“I know, silly. I waited for you, obviously.” She said as she handed me my bag and clothes.

“Thank you, honey. I was very nervous, how did I do?”

“You did well, Nikki. Though, it was obvious that you were anxious but you did well through that situation.”

“Thank you for saying that. I feel embarrassed since I didn’t represent my house well. Was our class teacher there?”

“Yes, she was-“

“Oh my god, this is all so embarrassing.” I couldn’t help but frown.

“Calm down, Nikki. There were more students too who were nervous, I think, two of them being your seniors. You guys kind of blended in.”

“I know, but I was the only one selected from a Non-Topper section, so I feel bad.”

“Yes, but what matters is that it’s all over now. At least, you have the experience, even if it’s bad.”

“I am so glad I don’t have to worry about this, anymore. I couldn’t keep up with anybody’s expectations, though-“

“That’s all right. At least, you were there at the center of the auditorium, with so many spectators. Anyone would be nervous.”

“Did you see Trisha and Arijit, though? They went on to debate.”

“Well, to be very honest, it was boring-“

“How dare you?”

Ankita laughed before continuing, “I didn’t get a single thing, dude. I don’t even know what you guys were blabbering about.”

“Right? Even I didn’t know what I was blabbering about. I just wanted it to be over.”

“At least, you have the experience. Even though it was all confusing, now you can give tips to our juniors about this.”

“The only thing I’ll tell them is to avoid it. It was the worst experience of my life, so far.” I giggled, feeling that my hands were not shaky anymore, and Ankita joined me. 

“Life of what? Just 14 years,” I snuck out my tongue at her, and she gestured to punch me, “Regardless, to know the worst is sweet. You don’t have to hear any criticism from people who weren’t in your shoes, by the way.”

“You’re right. This was all too new to me, and I had to prepare so much in such less time.”

“Exactly, first time for everything. You’ve experienced something that people who might judge you, haven’t. I doubt anybody could’ve done better.“

“Thanks, Ankita. I needed to hear this from somebody other than me.”

She giggled, “Anytime. People will forget about this in a few weeks, so you shouldn’t dwell on it too, okay? Pretend that whatever happened, you’re chill. Having experience makes you wiser—Though, you’re not that wise-“

“Don’t ruin it, you brat.” I pretended to be mad at her, I wasn’t. And she knew, so we both smiled and waved at each other, before parting.

I repeated Ankita’s words in my internal monologue, “To know the worst is sweet,” on my way back home.

It’s been 5+ years since then, and I still repeat her words to myself whenever something similar happens.

To know the worst is sweet.