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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)