Merchant and the Monkeys
I was 5 years old when I was admitted to a primary school nearby. I had earlier attended a Montessori school for kids.
Life in those days was different from what it is today. The parents were more sensible and less demanding on children. There was an easygoing atmosphere all around. As there was lot of holidays in the Hindu calendar, we were at home most of the days.
I still remember what took place on the first day when I joined the primary school. My parents had arranged for a flower-decked car, and I was forced to sit on a deerskin placed over a high seat. I was made to wear a rose garland and all our relatives from near and far had come for the occasion. There was lot of fun and frolic when a procession went from our house to the school.
I was not a sociable child. Even at home I used to move with my mother alone. Ours was a joint family, with my father’s and his elder brother’s families living together in the same house. I never used to mix with other occupants of the house. Even with my father I had only limited contacts. I was at my worst in the school, as I could not move with my classmates and teachers. I was being of a quiet nature helped to get along with the teacher.
At the end of the year there used to be a school day when parents would be invited and a cultural show consisting of dances and dramas performed by students would be put up. I was surprised when the teacher told I that I had been selected for a drama to be performed by the first standard students. I felt both elated and dejected.
Elated as I was selected for the play and dejected, as I felt nervous. The elation evaporated after I heard about the plot of the drama. It was a story ” Merchant and the monkeys” well known in those days.
The story was as follows. A merchant was selling caps. It was noon and he went for a siesta under a big Banyan tree. While he was asleep monkeys on the tree came down, opened the bundle of caps kept nearby and took away all the caps. When the merchant woke up after some time, he found the caps missing and to his astonishment noticed the monkeys wearing the caps and peeping at him from the branches of the tree. He did not know what to do. He pleaded with the monkeys in the choicest terms possible to return the caps. But the monkeys did not oblige. A passerby noticed the predicament of the merchant and advised him to throw down the cap worn by him so that the monkeys would try to imitate him. When the merchant threw away the cap from his head the monkeys also did the same and the merchant collected all the caps and ran away from the place.
I was told that the play required fifteen monkey actors and I would have to act the role of a monkey. I had to meekly accept the role, as I could not influence the teacher on my acting abilities for a better role. Boys, who had to act as monkeys, were told by the teacher to fetch their own caps for the play.
I told my mother that I wanted a cap for the play. Mother was quite frugal in those days, but also good at handicrafts. She made a very good cap out of cardboard and white paper. The cap fitted my head snugly and I was proud over wearing that cap.
The “D day” dawned and I went to the school in the evening. A crowd of relatives and family friends accompanied me, as my mother had publicized the event much earlier.
When I went to the back of the stage, which was the Green room, I could spot lot of my monkey friends with variety of caps on their heads. But most of them were wearing what were known as Gandhi caps. Gandhi cap was a popular cap in those days as the congressmen for the independence struggle used it. It was made of homespun cotton known as “Khader”. There were other types also like the “bowler” and the pith hat. But my cap was the only one, which was made of paper and easily identifiable as it had a unique shape and appearance.
We were all given face wash and applied with talcum powder on our faces. The teacher inspected our dresses of white jibba and pyjama. Then the most surprising thing happened. The teacher collected all our caps and tied those in to a bundle with an outer cloth. I got a jittery feeling as though my cap would not be traceable in that bundle.
There was a shrill whistle, which was the sign for the play to start. The merchant entered the stage with his bundle of caps and went for a siesta. We the monkeys entered the stage one by one and started enacting our pranks, much to the delight of the audience. Our leader opened the bundle of caps, and we all scrambled to pick up our caps. There were no problems regarding the Gandhi caps as most of those were of the same size and appearance. I was searching for my cap and could not locate it. Every other monkey actor had already worn his cap and was readying for the next scene,
Right from my childhood I was brought up to be sincere and truthful. While I could tolerate certain amount of fun and joke at my expense, I could never digest an injustice or insult meted out to me. There was also an over riding reason for me to grab the cap, which I would explain later. My searching eyes could spot out my cap on the head of Seenu, who was standing at the centre of the stage. I ran up to him with all vehemence, I could muster and shouted at him “ How dare you robbed my cap?” I grabbed the cap from his head. Even though Seenu was a peace loving friendly guy he could not keep quiet at that instant, as he felt threatened. There was a scuffle that followed, and in the end I was victorious, grabbing the cap and wearing it on my head with all glory. The cap, which was made of paper, got badly torn in the process, but I couldn't care less.
The audience who were watching the entire sequence of events did not know that the scuffle was not a part of the play but a clash of personalities. They were thrilled by the monkey fight and there were loud cheer and thundering applauses from all round. The reaction of the audience saved me from the wrath of my teacher later on. While she did not appreciate, she also desisted from pulling me up.
My relatives made fun of me when I returned home and the story of my play was remembered and told to newer generation of members added to our family as time rolled on.
The only person who knew the real reason for my grabbing the paper cap was my mother. The reason was simple. While most of the boys had round well shaped heads, I had an oblong head on which no standard cap would fit. Mother had made the paper cap to specifically fit my head.
Only a mother knows the secrets of her children
.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
The Music class
We used to have a music period every week. Our school was a co-ed and a class had girls and boys on a 40/60 ratio.
Since the school was under the aegis of a cultural organization it was thought very important to teach music to children from a young age. Initially music was restricted to girls alone. But with the arrival of a new teacher called Mangalam, it was decided to make music compulsory for boys also. This was when trouble started.
I now realize that every one cannot learn music. It requires certain amount of interest, family background and active support from parents.
Our class consisted of a motley crowd. Girls were supposed to be more inclined to learn music in those days as it was considered to be a female bastion. But boys were the unfortunate ones, as their buoyant spirit did not match up with the level of discipline and practice required to learn music. It also depended a lot on the skills of the teacher to maintain discipline and create interest amidst the varied student population.
We boys generally categorized our classes as regular or free.
While science, maths, English and similar subjects were considered as regular, Arts & crafts, Physical training etc., were assumed to be free classes.
The reason was that you have to write exams and pass in regular subjects while there was no such need for the free classes. While attending the regular classes all of us exhibited our best discipline and attention, the free classes served to vent out our feelings of freedom in abundance.
Even the free classes had the right amount of discipline essentially due to the authority exerted by the teachers responsible for the class.
Mangalam teacher would have been around 35 years, with slight graying hair at the temples, fair in complexion but not impressive. She had a thin voice, which became shrill once under stress. She was of medium height and slightly stout. We learnt from reliable sources that she had mostly lived in north India and that she was a widow. The other important and useful information was that Janardhanan of the 6th standard whom we used to call Jan was her nephew.
On a Friday morning the music class started. Most of our classes were held in classrooms, which were simple cottages with palm leaf thatched roofs.
The music teacher suggested having her class under one of the big mango trees on the school ground. Her decision was not a wise one, as it turned out later. The reason was simple. Already music was considered as a free class and students would be in a relaxed mood, in addition if a class was held under a tree it provided scopes for distraction all around. It is said that a person would continue to do a desisted act till he suffered out of the act. In the case of Mangalam teacher this was proved beyond doubt.
The class started, with the teacher asking us to sit on the plain ground. She had brought a Sruthi box, which she placed in front of herself. The girls were in the front rows while we boys chose the rear, which afforded many opportunities. After marking attendance, the teacher explained her methodology. She would first dictate us the song, which we had to write down in a notebook. Then she would start singing each line of the song, and we had to repeat in chorus. Thus the entire song was to be sung.
Mangalam miss, started dictating the song, which was one of Purandaradasa’s song known as “Nin Yako”; It is sung in the raga Kanada, which is a raga full of pathos. When the teacher started dictating the song with her feeble voice, there were murmurs all around as the crowd at the back could not fully hear and understand. The language of the song was Kannada, while ours was Tamil. The other problem was that there were no desks to rest the notebooks while writing. Some of the burly boys made use of the back of the smaller boys to write, but most of us had to keep the notebook on our lap and write. We could not make use of the ground, as it was bit sandy.
It took nearly 15 minutes to write the song, and then the teacher commenced singing. It is well known that sound intensity drops in proportion to the square of the distance. What this simply means is that the students nearer to a teacher can hear well and the backbenchers will hear less. Normally a good teacher would compensate this deficiency by increasing the pitch. Mangalam miss, as told earlier had a thin voice and if she had raised it further, the result would have been a shriek.
The effect was that only some students could clearly pronounce the song while most of the voices were humming incoherent self made syllables. The net result was that instead of melodious music, loud noise was getting generated.
Some incidents in life are man made. But the unseen hands of fate or providence create certain other unforeseen events. It was unfortunate when the music class was taking off, in spits and jerks, the HM was on his morning rounds.
His attention was drawn to the class due to the loud cacophony, streaming out in the vicinity of a mango tree.
The moment HM came near the gathering, the teacher stopped singing, and pin drop silence reigned. Only exception was our Annamalai also known as Mattu pallan, who usually could not stop any action immediately. The result was that he continued to blabber loudly some nonsensical syllables.
Teachers exert their authority over the students in unique ways. But they would always prefer to single out culprits and punish rather than take action on the entire class. The procedure is based on the famous theory of “Divide and rule”.
Our HM was no exception. Instead of enquiring Mangalam miss on the ruckus he straightaway went on to the punishment part.
He asked Annamalai to stand up, and scolded him with chosen words of reprimand. He asked him to do twenty rounds of running around the school and immediately departed from the class. Annamalai also left the class in a jeffy with not even a trace of ill feeling.
Mangalam miss started singing again and the change was that only the girls were singing while boys adopted an understandable silence. The teacher did not bother much, as she was not in favour of the HM again visiting her class. The first music class thus ended with a somber note.
Annamalai was missing the afternoon classes. When teachers asked about his absence rest of the boys narrated a story on the unjust punishment meted out to him, and how he was continuing on his tiresome 20 rounds around the school.
I met Annamalai in the evening after the completion of his running and consoled him. Annamalai was cool and was not at all sad on his punishment. He had a derisive smile when he pointed out to a bulky bag by his side. I was taken by surprise when he showed me the contents of the bag. It was full of the choicest pick-up of tamarind fruits one could have ever wished. Annamalai had made wise use of the punishment meted out to him by fully indulging on his hobby.
After all Annamalai was well known in the school as the Tamarind picker.
Since the school was under the aegis of a cultural organization it was thought very important to teach music to children from a young age. Initially music was restricted to girls alone. But with the arrival of a new teacher called Mangalam, it was decided to make music compulsory for boys also. This was when trouble started.
I now realize that every one cannot learn music. It requires certain amount of interest, family background and active support from parents.
Our class consisted of a motley crowd. Girls were supposed to be more inclined to learn music in those days as it was considered to be a female bastion. But boys were the unfortunate ones, as their buoyant spirit did not match up with the level of discipline and practice required to learn music. It also depended a lot on the skills of the teacher to maintain discipline and create interest amidst the varied student population.
We boys generally categorized our classes as regular or free.
While science, maths, English and similar subjects were considered as regular, Arts & crafts, Physical training etc., were assumed to be free classes.
The reason was that you have to write exams and pass in regular subjects while there was no such need for the free classes. While attending the regular classes all of us exhibited our best discipline and attention, the free classes served to vent out our feelings of freedom in abundance.
Even the free classes had the right amount of discipline essentially due to the authority exerted by the teachers responsible for the class.
Mangalam teacher would have been around 35 years, with slight graying hair at the temples, fair in complexion but not impressive. She had a thin voice, which became shrill once under stress. She was of medium height and slightly stout. We learnt from reliable sources that she had mostly lived in north India and that she was a widow. The other important and useful information was that Janardhanan of the 6th standard whom we used to call Jan was her nephew.
On a Friday morning the music class started. Most of our classes were held in classrooms, which were simple cottages with palm leaf thatched roofs.
The music teacher suggested having her class under one of the big mango trees on the school ground. Her decision was not a wise one, as it turned out later. The reason was simple. Already music was considered as a free class and students would be in a relaxed mood, in addition if a class was held under a tree it provided scopes for distraction all around. It is said that a person would continue to do a desisted act till he suffered out of the act. In the case of Mangalam teacher this was proved beyond doubt.
The class started, with the teacher asking us to sit on the plain ground. She had brought a Sruthi box, which she placed in front of herself. The girls were in the front rows while we boys chose the rear, which afforded many opportunities. After marking attendance, the teacher explained her methodology. She would first dictate us the song, which we had to write down in a notebook. Then she would start singing each line of the song, and we had to repeat in chorus. Thus the entire song was to be sung.
Mangalam miss, started dictating the song, which was one of Purandaradasa’s song known as “Nin Yako”; It is sung in the raga Kanada, which is a raga full of pathos. When the teacher started dictating the song with her feeble voice, there were murmurs all around as the crowd at the back could not fully hear and understand. The language of the song was Kannada, while ours was Tamil. The other problem was that there were no desks to rest the notebooks while writing. Some of the burly boys made use of the back of the smaller boys to write, but most of us had to keep the notebook on our lap and write. We could not make use of the ground, as it was bit sandy.
It took nearly 15 minutes to write the song, and then the teacher commenced singing. It is well known that sound intensity drops in proportion to the square of the distance. What this simply means is that the students nearer to a teacher can hear well and the backbenchers will hear less. Normally a good teacher would compensate this deficiency by increasing the pitch. Mangalam miss, as told earlier had a thin voice and if she had raised it further, the result would have been a shriek.
The effect was that only some students could clearly pronounce the song while most of the voices were humming incoherent self made syllables. The net result was that instead of melodious music, loud noise was getting generated.
Some incidents in life are man made. But the unseen hands of fate or providence create certain other unforeseen events. It was unfortunate when the music class was taking off, in spits and jerks, the HM was on his morning rounds.
His attention was drawn to the class due to the loud cacophony, streaming out in the vicinity of a mango tree.
The moment HM came near the gathering, the teacher stopped singing, and pin drop silence reigned. Only exception was our Annamalai also known as Mattu pallan, who usually could not stop any action immediately. The result was that he continued to blabber loudly some nonsensical syllables.
Teachers exert their authority over the students in unique ways. But they would always prefer to single out culprits and punish rather than take action on the entire class. The procedure is based on the famous theory of “Divide and rule”.
Our HM was no exception. Instead of enquiring Mangalam miss on the ruckus he straightaway went on to the punishment part.
He asked Annamalai to stand up, and scolded him with chosen words of reprimand. He asked him to do twenty rounds of running around the school and immediately departed from the class. Annamalai also left the class in a jeffy with not even a trace of ill feeling.
Mangalam miss started singing again and the change was that only the girls were singing while boys adopted an understandable silence. The teacher did not bother much, as she was not in favour of the HM again visiting her class. The first music class thus ended with a somber note.
Annamalai was missing the afternoon classes. When teachers asked about his absence rest of the boys narrated a story on the unjust punishment meted out to him, and how he was continuing on his tiresome 20 rounds around the school.
I met Annamalai in the evening after the completion of his running and consoled him. Annamalai was cool and was not at all sad on his punishment. He had a derisive smile when he pointed out to a bulky bag by his side. I was taken by surprise when he showed me the contents of the bag. It was full of the choicest pick-up of tamarind fruits one could have ever wished. Annamalai had made wise use of the punishment meted out to him by fully indulging on his hobby.
After all Annamalai was well known in the school as the Tamarind picker.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
The Walking corpse
The most fascinating class I found during my school days was Physics. The reason was that it had both theory and practical. Theory classes tend to be boring after sometime, as you need to closely follow what the teacher said and also understand to retain in memory. Whereas after theory if a practical class is held it is much easier.
Ms. Krishna bai was the teacher. She was a fair looking lady with a somewhat stout constitution. She was from Andhra. While she can talk English fluently, her Tamil was in bits and pieces. She was a good teacher and her theory classes were also interesting. But what I cherished more were the practical classes. I still remember, the first time, our class was held at the Science lab.
While all our classes were held in thatched cottages spread under the canopy of trees in different locations of the school, the Practical was held at the Science lab which was on the first floor of the main building. The main building was a hoary structure probably built at the fagend of 19th century with tall pillars and big halls. The ground floor contained the HM's chamber, school office, teacher's rooms and stores. There was also a huge hall where special meetings were held once or twice a year. There was a spacious veranda as one entered the building which ran almost around the building. In the front was also a big portico where visitors can alight from their cars.
I was a bit nervous, when entering the Science lab, as I had heard lot of stories from my seniors. To my surprise I found it to be a pleasant hall with work tables neatly arranged all round and stools for the students to sit. In the centre there was the teacher’s chair with a portable black board by the side. There were also black round objects on the tables, which were "Bunsen burners" as I learnt later.
One thing which was marring the pleasant atmosphere was an object exhibited at the far corner of the room. It was encased in a wooden box with glass windows on all sides. It was a human skeleton hanging from the roof of the box. It was around 6 feet in height and seemed to be that of a full grown adult. While I and my class mates were watching it with lot of trepidation, the skeleton suddenly swung round to one side. Some of the meeker ones in the class yelled aloud, jarring the serene atmosphere.
Shankar, the intellectual in our class clarified that the movement was due to the wind. We accepted his explanation and were returning to normalcy. The other disturbing aspect of the place was the strong aroma of spirit and mould. There were glass boxes exhibited which contained preserved bodies of crabs, fish and butterflies, which contributed to some of the smell.
Somehow the teacher had not yet entered the class. It was almost 10 minutes beyond schedule, and class became restive. Slowly a murmur started which after some time, turned in to a loud babble of voices.
Suddenly there was pin drop silence as we could hear measured and shuffling footsteps coming from the back of the lab. It was a tall dark faced individual, who had a very thin physique almost like a skeleton. His eyes were blood shot, big and burning. His eye balls were looking as though ready to pop out at any time. He had pulled in cheeks and hanging lips. His arms were thin and fingers were long with uncut nails. He had big teeth which were jutting out as though he was waiting for his first bite of the meat. After our just then experience with the skeleton, seeing the man, who looked almost like a corpse shook all of us to the core and we were fully entrenched in a fear of the worst magnitude.
He came to the centre of the room and without losing his composure told us in a measured voice to maintain silence as the teacher was on her way to the class. This was our first exposure to Sambandam, the attender, also popularly called as the Walking corpse.
I learnt a lot on Sambandam from my class mates and seniors in the next few days. They told me that he had been in the school for donkey’s years and was the CEO of the lab. I was further told that if one wants to pass exams in lab it was necessary to keep Sambandam on the right side.
In the ensuing weeks I had few occasions to network with him. The appearance of Sambandam always scared me. My mind somehow identified him with the hanging skeleton in the lab. However much I tried I could not erase the mental image. I was by nature timid. While I used to boast on my prowess with colleagues, the moment I smelled a problem I used to run away from the spot. The other reason was that I had not mastered the technique of befriending people. My capability in this aspect was not a healthy one and in fact on the negative side. I somewhat had the providential trait of offending people. The reflection made me sad and I was in a deep analysis of what could be the strategy to win over a person like the Walking corpse, since it was the need of the hour.
I had read somewhere that to tame a bull it had to be caught by its horns. I wanted to adopt the same strategy but the only difference was that I wanted a companion to assist me in the endeavour. I chose "Little Kittu" who was also known as "Shorty". While Shorty was as brave or as timid as I was, the plus point he had was his shrill voice. Pushed in to a tight corner, he can let out a siren like wail with a shrill note which can be heard from a kilometer if need be.
I had quite a deliberation with Shorty and it was decided to fix our rendezvous with Sambandam on the next Saturday. On Saturday the classes were held only in the fore noon and the afternoon was free. But usually all teachers and staffs worked throughout the day.
After lunch I and Shorty slowly arrived at our encounter site namely the lab. The place was deserted excepting for our old friend, “The hanging skeleton". As a precautionary measure I asked Shorty to be ensconced in a corner of the lab, to be fully prepared for any action if needed. I was standing outside in front of the lab on the open terrace, waiting for Sambandam's arrival. It was only half an hour later the Walking corpse slowly entered the scene. He was shocked to see me standing there, and fired a rapid volley of sentences, to the effect on the reason for the intrusion on an off time.
I immediately went on the PR phase, doling out sweet and nice words, with plenty of gestures filled with smiles and bows. Sambandam seemed to be fully impressed with my presentation, and enquired the purpose of my visit to his work spot. I told him that I would like to help him with any work he had. The dart surely hit the bull's eye as his mouth widened in to a big grin and he thanked me for the offer. He informed me of having some urgent work outside and his intention of closing the lab. He promised to call me surely when he wanted any help. Sambandam then hurriedly locked the lab doors and went down.
I normally used to have good memory but on that day due to suppressed fear I have forgotten the most important thing. Only as I went to the cycle stand, I realized that something had gone wrong. While raking my brain on the exact issue, I heard a high frequency wail with a shrill note coming out from the vicinity of the main building.
By the time I recognized the wail as one emanating from my entrapped friend Shorty and rushed to the lab, I could see to my utter bewilderment, quiet a crowd in front of the lab. All the teachers, office staffs were standing there. The HM was the last person to enter, but quickly marshaled the help of the office attender Ganapathy to open the lab doors. The whole crowd rushed in to the lab to see what was wrong.
Shorty might had been lacking in courage but one had to give him 100% as for as intelligence and presence of mind were concerned. He knew surely that he would be court marshaled if caught inside the lab. Using the labyrinths of tables and stools, he somehow found his way out through the dark interior of the lab, by crawling out on the floor without being seen. I received a sudden slap on my back and was surprised to see Shorty. Shorty lost no time in letting out a tirade of curses on me for letting him down.
The people who entered the lab were bewildered, as they could not locate the source of the wail. But the craft teacher, who was an old hand in the matter concerning the unknown, came out with an explanation. He said" This is not the first time. Some 20 years back similar thing had happened. This place is haunted and many people have experienced spine chilling adventures here. In fact I surely felt something crawling out and rubbing against my knee as I entered". He was immediately joined by several others who totally agreed with his theory. Some of them also had the same experience of a creature crawling out and rubbing on their legs.
While I had an urge to laugh aloud, I had to put in some extra effort and suppress it. Shorty was not so successful. If anybody had seen his face then, they would have detected a sheepish grin flashing across.
While I was able to win the friendship of Sambandam, the walking corpse, I lost the precious friendship of Shorty after the episode. The reason was that Shorty had been all alone in the unenviable company of the hanging skeleton for more than 15 minutes.
Ms. Krishna bai was the teacher. She was a fair looking lady with a somewhat stout constitution. She was from Andhra. While she can talk English fluently, her Tamil was in bits and pieces. She was a good teacher and her theory classes were also interesting. But what I cherished more were the practical classes. I still remember, the first time, our class was held at the Science lab.
While all our classes were held in thatched cottages spread under the canopy of trees in different locations of the school, the Practical was held at the Science lab which was on the first floor of the main building. The main building was a hoary structure probably built at the fagend of 19th century with tall pillars and big halls. The ground floor contained the HM's chamber, school office, teacher's rooms and stores. There was also a huge hall where special meetings were held once or twice a year. There was a spacious veranda as one entered the building which ran almost around the building. In the front was also a big portico where visitors can alight from their cars.
I was a bit nervous, when entering the Science lab, as I had heard lot of stories from my seniors. To my surprise I found it to be a pleasant hall with work tables neatly arranged all round and stools for the students to sit. In the centre there was the teacher’s chair with a portable black board by the side. There were also black round objects on the tables, which were "Bunsen burners" as I learnt later.
One thing which was marring the pleasant atmosphere was an object exhibited at the far corner of the room. It was encased in a wooden box with glass windows on all sides. It was a human skeleton hanging from the roof of the box. It was around 6 feet in height and seemed to be that of a full grown adult. While I and my class mates were watching it with lot of trepidation, the skeleton suddenly swung round to one side. Some of the meeker ones in the class yelled aloud, jarring the serene atmosphere.
Shankar, the intellectual in our class clarified that the movement was due to the wind. We accepted his explanation and were returning to normalcy. The other disturbing aspect of the place was the strong aroma of spirit and mould. There were glass boxes exhibited which contained preserved bodies of crabs, fish and butterflies, which contributed to some of the smell.
Somehow the teacher had not yet entered the class. It was almost 10 minutes beyond schedule, and class became restive. Slowly a murmur started which after some time, turned in to a loud babble of voices.
Suddenly there was pin drop silence as we could hear measured and shuffling footsteps coming from the back of the lab. It was a tall dark faced individual, who had a very thin physique almost like a skeleton. His eyes were blood shot, big and burning. His eye balls were looking as though ready to pop out at any time. He had pulled in cheeks and hanging lips. His arms were thin and fingers were long with uncut nails. He had big teeth which were jutting out as though he was waiting for his first bite of the meat. After our just then experience with the skeleton, seeing the man, who looked almost like a corpse shook all of us to the core and we were fully entrenched in a fear of the worst magnitude.
He came to the centre of the room and without losing his composure told us in a measured voice to maintain silence as the teacher was on her way to the class. This was our first exposure to Sambandam, the attender, also popularly called as the Walking corpse.
I learnt a lot on Sambandam from my class mates and seniors in the next few days. They told me that he had been in the school for donkey’s years and was the CEO of the lab. I was further told that if one wants to pass exams in lab it was necessary to keep Sambandam on the right side.
In the ensuing weeks I had few occasions to network with him. The appearance of Sambandam always scared me. My mind somehow identified him with the hanging skeleton in the lab. However much I tried I could not erase the mental image. I was by nature timid. While I used to boast on my prowess with colleagues, the moment I smelled a problem I used to run away from the spot. The other reason was that I had not mastered the technique of befriending people. My capability in this aspect was not a healthy one and in fact on the negative side. I somewhat had the providential trait of offending people. The reflection made me sad and I was in a deep analysis of what could be the strategy to win over a person like the Walking corpse, since it was the need of the hour.
I had read somewhere that to tame a bull it had to be caught by its horns. I wanted to adopt the same strategy but the only difference was that I wanted a companion to assist me in the endeavour. I chose "Little Kittu" who was also known as "Shorty". While Shorty was as brave or as timid as I was, the plus point he had was his shrill voice. Pushed in to a tight corner, he can let out a siren like wail with a shrill note which can be heard from a kilometer if need be.
I had quite a deliberation with Shorty and it was decided to fix our rendezvous with Sambandam on the next Saturday. On Saturday the classes were held only in the fore noon and the afternoon was free. But usually all teachers and staffs worked throughout the day.
After lunch I and Shorty slowly arrived at our encounter site namely the lab. The place was deserted excepting for our old friend, “The hanging skeleton". As a precautionary measure I asked Shorty to be ensconced in a corner of the lab, to be fully prepared for any action if needed. I was standing outside in front of the lab on the open terrace, waiting for Sambandam's arrival. It was only half an hour later the Walking corpse slowly entered the scene. He was shocked to see me standing there, and fired a rapid volley of sentences, to the effect on the reason for the intrusion on an off time.
I immediately went on the PR phase, doling out sweet and nice words, with plenty of gestures filled with smiles and bows. Sambandam seemed to be fully impressed with my presentation, and enquired the purpose of my visit to his work spot. I told him that I would like to help him with any work he had. The dart surely hit the bull's eye as his mouth widened in to a big grin and he thanked me for the offer. He informed me of having some urgent work outside and his intention of closing the lab. He promised to call me surely when he wanted any help. Sambandam then hurriedly locked the lab doors and went down.
I normally used to have good memory but on that day due to suppressed fear I have forgotten the most important thing. Only as I went to the cycle stand, I realized that something had gone wrong. While raking my brain on the exact issue, I heard a high frequency wail with a shrill note coming out from the vicinity of the main building.
By the time I recognized the wail as one emanating from my entrapped friend Shorty and rushed to the lab, I could see to my utter bewilderment, quiet a crowd in front of the lab. All the teachers, office staffs were standing there. The HM was the last person to enter, but quickly marshaled the help of the office attender Ganapathy to open the lab doors. The whole crowd rushed in to the lab to see what was wrong.
Shorty might had been lacking in courage but one had to give him 100% as for as intelligence and presence of mind were concerned. He knew surely that he would be court marshaled if caught inside the lab. Using the labyrinths of tables and stools, he somehow found his way out through the dark interior of the lab, by crawling out on the floor without being seen. I received a sudden slap on my back and was surprised to see Shorty. Shorty lost no time in letting out a tirade of curses on me for letting him down.
The people who entered the lab were bewildered, as they could not locate the source of the wail. But the craft teacher, who was an old hand in the matter concerning the unknown, came out with an explanation. He said" This is not the first time. Some 20 years back similar thing had happened. This place is haunted and many people have experienced spine chilling adventures here. In fact I surely felt something crawling out and rubbing against my knee as I entered". He was immediately joined by several others who totally agreed with his theory. Some of them also had the same experience of a creature crawling out and rubbing on their legs.
While I had an urge to laugh aloud, I had to put in some extra effort and suppress it. Shorty was not so successful. If anybody had seen his face then, they would have detected a sheepish grin flashing across.
While I was able to win the friendship of Sambandam, the walking corpse, I lost the precious friendship of Shorty after the episode. The reason was that Shorty had been all alone in the unenviable company of the hanging skeleton for more than 15 minutes.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The tamarind picker
He was a tall,thin boy with a long face. His upper teeth were big and protruding out considerably from his mouth. He walked with a little stoop. Most of the time he was drooling, and liberally used his hand to wipe it out. He was named Annamalai, but boys called him "Mattu Pallan", or "Boy with Cattle teeth".
The school started at 7.30 in the morning. Annamalai was always late. He used to enter the class only after 15 minutes. Initially teachers used to question him and punish him also, but Annamalai was made of sterner stuff and he never used to budge from his routine.Most of us carried our books and notes in school bags, but Annamalai used a rubber band to bind the stuff together and never used a bag. He was a sprightly lad not bothered much about others.
Annamalai never indulged in small talk or wasted time once he entered the class. He was not a ranker but passed exams easily. He had few friends and during luncheon interval it was difficult to trace him.
I used to be punctual and would always be in the class by 7.30, not a minute early or late. But once it so happened that I came to school half an hour earlier.I was sitting in an empty class room and browsing through the books when I heard a thud noise from the rear of the class room.
Our class rooms were made of individual cottages , built with low walls and fitted with bamboo lattice windows on all four sides.The roof was made of dried leaves of the coconut tree . The class room used to be weather friendly as it kept the place cool even during the scorching summer and it also allowed cool breeze to waft through in the afternoons from the nearby sea.
There was a row of tall Tamarind trees with lot of branches and thick foliage at the back of the class room and I could see clearly what was happening there.I could spot a tall boy standing close to a tree and pelting stones at the tree. I got interested and rushed out to see what was happening. I could see Annamalai standing as erect as a warrior and pelting stones at the tree. I went near him and asked him what he was doing. He did not reply but I could spot out a sheepish grin which explained his act.
He was just plucking the tamarind fruit. As per school rules, the students job is to study and not indulge in hobbies like tamarind picking. Even in those days I was a person with quite an understanding of human nature. I never used to offend anybody but always resorted to the easier course of striking a friendship. The reason was not because I believed in Pacifism but more due to lack of courage.
When I questioned Annamalai,in a friendly sort of way the boy opened out quietly after biting a bit of the tamarind he had just then shot down, and also liberally offering me some of the juiciest fruits as compliment. He told me that he had long experience in tamarind picking and he could get in season time more than 20 to 30 fruits in the morning. He also showed me the difference in various tamarind fruits. There were thin unripe ones which were very very sour in nature. There were also half ripe fruits which are the best to eat. Of course the fully ripe ones are what are used for cooking.
I was amazed at Annamalais knowledge and the skill he had acquired in using stones as projectiles. The boy had from child hood devoted most of his time in tamarind picking. In my younger days I had a weakness for the powerful. When Annamalai asked me to be his associate I could only accept.
Over the next 2 months I regularly went out with Annamalai and learnt the nuances of tamarind picking. During lunch time also my guru used to continue hunting for tamarind. In fact I never saw him eat any meal, he seemed to exist only on tamarind.
In life any happy experience would come to a sudden end after some time. Even the friendship with the tamarind picker hit a roadblock due to an unfortunate incident.
In one of our afternoon hunting a missile fired by Annamalai went off track and hit a teacher proceeding out for lunch, who promptly complained to the Head master. The entire gang including me and 3 others headed by Annamalai were pulled up by the HM.
Luckily Annamalai was the person to receive the punishment of caning, while others escaped unharmed.
After the episode I quietly dropped out of Annamalais company. But the incidence left its own mark on Annamalai who was totally shattered. His gay spirit got broken for no fault of his as the flight path of the stone got disturbed more due to a sudden gust of wind rather than due to any inaccuracy on his part. We could see less of him in the next few months and at the end of the year he left the school and joined some other school, where he could hopefully continue his hobby.
Childhood is a wonderful time built on sand castles and clouds. Elders want children to follow their strict rules of conduct, which they failed to follow during their younger days.The spirit is fully free in childhood and sky is the limit for its expansion. The joy of childhood can never return as you grow older.
The school started at 7.30 in the morning. Annamalai was always late. He used to enter the class only after 15 minutes. Initially teachers used to question him and punish him also, but Annamalai was made of sterner stuff and he never used to budge from his routine.Most of us carried our books and notes in school bags, but Annamalai used a rubber band to bind the stuff together and never used a bag. He was a sprightly lad not bothered much about others.
Annamalai never indulged in small talk or wasted time once he entered the class. He was not a ranker but passed exams easily. He had few friends and during luncheon interval it was difficult to trace him.
I used to be punctual and would always be in the class by 7.30, not a minute early or late. But once it so happened that I came to school half an hour earlier.I was sitting in an empty class room and browsing through the books when I heard a thud noise from the rear of the class room.
Our class rooms were made of individual cottages , built with low walls and fitted with bamboo lattice windows on all four sides.The roof was made of dried leaves of the coconut tree . The class room used to be weather friendly as it kept the place cool even during the scorching summer and it also allowed cool breeze to waft through in the afternoons from the nearby sea.
There was a row of tall Tamarind trees with lot of branches and thick foliage at the back of the class room and I could see clearly what was happening there.I could spot a tall boy standing close to a tree and pelting stones at the tree. I got interested and rushed out to see what was happening. I could see Annamalai standing as erect as a warrior and pelting stones at the tree. I went near him and asked him what he was doing. He did not reply but I could spot out a sheepish grin which explained his act.
He was just plucking the tamarind fruit. As per school rules, the students job is to study and not indulge in hobbies like tamarind picking. Even in those days I was a person with quite an understanding of human nature. I never used to offend anybody but always resorted to the easier course of striking a friendship. The reason was not because I believed in Pacifism but more due to lack of courage.
When I questioned Annamalai,in a friendly sort of way the boy opened out quietly after biting a bit of the tamarind he had just then shot down, and also liberally offering me some of the juiciest fruits as compliment. He told me that he had long experience in tamarind picking and he could get in season time more than 20 to 30 fruits in the morning. He also showed me the difference in various tamarind fruits. There were thin unripe ones which were very very sour in nature. There were also half ripe fruits which are the best to eat. Of course the fully ripe ones are what are used for cooking.
I was amazed at Annamalais knowledge and the skill he had acquired in using stones as projectiles. The boy had from child hood devoted most of his time in tamarind picking. In my younger days I had a weakness for the powerful. When Annamalai asked me to be his associate I could only accept.
Over the next 2 months I regularly went out with Annamalai and learnt the nuances of tamarind picking. During lunch time also my guru used to continue hunting for tamarind. In fact I never saw him eat any meal, he seemed to exist only on tamarind.
In life any happy experience would come to a sudden end after some time. Even the friendship with the tamarind picker hit a roadblock due to an unfortunate incident.
In one of our afternoon hunting a missile fired by Annamalai went off track and hit a teacher proceeding out for lunch, who promptly complained to the Head master. The entire gang including me and 3 others headed by Annamalai were pulled up by the HM.
Luckily Annamalai was the person to receive the punishment of caning, while others escaped unharmed.
After the episode I quietly dropped out of Annamalais company. But the incidence left its own mark on Annamalai who was totally shattered. His gay spirit got broken for no fault of his as the flight path of the stone got disturbed more due to a sudden gust of wind rather than due to any inaccuracy on his part. We could see less of him in the next few months and at the end of the year he left the school and joined some other school, where he could hopefully continue his hobby.
Childhood is a wonderful time built on sand castles and clouds. Elders want children to follow their strict rules of conduct, which they failed to follow during their younger days.The spirit is fully free in childhood and sky is the limit for its expansion. The joy of childhood can never return as you grow older.
Why this blog?
So much has been written by so many on various topics. I have been thinking of writing on my school days for quite some time not because of its uniqueness,but more because of my love towards some of the interesting people I met and also incidents which I still cherish.
I want to share these with others so people may forget their own worries and can escape for a few minutes from the humdrum of daily life.
The only reward I expect from the readers of these articles is their valued opinion or insights.
Thanks
I want to share these with others so people may forget their own worries and can escape for a few minutes from the humdrum of daily life.
The only reward I expect from the readers of these articles is their valued opinion or insights.
Thanks
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