Sixteen days before the expected HSC results, Bangladesh’s most powerful unofficial ministry is already working overtime. It has no office, no website or no official spokesperson. It does, however, have your mother’s phone number.

The HSC results are not out yet, but congratulations. Your result has already been discussed in at least three drawing rooms, two family WhatsApp groups and one conversation between your mother and a woman she last met at a wedding in 2019.

Welcome to the Ministry of GPA Affairs.

The ministry has no official building. Its headquarters are wherever two aunties can sit with tea and discuss someone else’s child. It has no recruitment process either. Anyone who has a child, a neighbour or an internet connection is automatically eligible to become a senior officer.

Its primary responsibility is to monitor the academic performance of every HSC candidate in the country, preferably before the official results are published.

The ministry’s intelligence wing is particularly impressive. One officer receives a Facebook post announcing that results may be published on 29 October. Another has a cousin whose friend works near an education board. A third has heard that “this time naki khub taratari result dibe.”

By the time the information reaches your mother, it has acquired the authority of a government gazette.

“Result-er date naki diye dise!”

“Ke bolse?”

“Ekjon bolse. Tarpor arekjon share dise.”

The ministry considers this sufficient evidence. The interrogation begins before the investigation is complete. The first person summoned is usually the student’s mother.

“Tomar chele-meye toh bhalo exam dise, tai na?” This is not a question. It is an invitation to make a statement that may later be used against the family. If the mother says the exam went well, the officer immediately asks, “Tahole GPA-5 ashbei, inshallah! Mishty kobe khawacchen?” If she says the student found a few questions difficult, the officer lowers her voice.

“Achha, kon subject-e problem hoise? Physics? Chemistry? English? Shob subject-ei?”

The investigation has now expanded to include the entire education system. The mother may attempt to defend herself. “Na na, bhaloi hoise. Ektu tension kortese shudhu.” The officer makes a mental note: Family claims student performed well. Confidence level questionable. Continue surveillance.

The student, meanwhile, is sitting in another room, trying to watch a YouTube video without feeling that every minute of entertainment will be presented as evidence in the upcoming trial. The ministry’s most dangerous officers are the parents’ friends. They usually begin with a disclaimer. “Amra toh result niye ekdom tension kortesi na. Result ja howar hobe.” This statement is followed by a detailed report of their own child’s performance.

“Amar meye toh shob question answer kore ashche. Math-er ekta question niye ektu confused chilo, but pore dekhlam thik-i hoise. English-eo shob likhe ashche. O toh bole exam onek easy hoise.”

Nobody asked for this report. The officer has submitted it voluntarily. Then comes the inevitable question. “Tomader bachcha koyta question answer kore ashche?”

There is no safe response. If you say all of them, the officer may ask how many pages the student wrote. If you say some answers were difficult, the ministry may launch an independent inquiry into the family’s study habits.

The official results may arrive on 31 October. But the ministry has already completed its investigation, ranked every candidate in the neighbourhood and prepared a list of supplementary questions. Somewhere, an auntie is picking up her phone.