Saturday, August 25, 2007

The Man With The Golden Stick.....Part I

So goes a poem in a 'Loyolite' now forgotten somewhere in the archives of our library. The Late Reverend Father Mathew Pulickal, SJ.... the man with the golden stick.... the priest who taught us to face difficulties firm on our feet.... the man who told us, so long before Chumbawamba made their song,: "You may get knocked down, but you'll get up again, nothing should keep you down...."
I met Father perhaps at my interview into Loyola...don't remember much about that...would have been a kid of four then? But quite a few of my childhood memories have him in them...At the bus boarding points, wielding his cane, instantaneously bringing order and discipline to what was just then a definition of chaos....On the corridors, sharply looking out for 'smart cookies' who'd jump through windows into class rooms..."Da!!!"....His moral science classes, where he'd take us through a diverse world of culture, history, society, and the part we have to play as responsible citizens...Those discourses on World and National history, where he'd open his diary and take us back in time....His 'pink slip' summons which every boy lived in mortal fear of....Father Pulickal presiding over the distribution of new text books every academic year.."Do well...ozhappi nadakkaruthu...."....His famous notice board inclusions.."Howlers" he called them, excerpts from our attempts at History and Civics....Father, thank you for every thing you did...I know that from up above, where those closest to God are, Pulickal Achan is smiling down at all of us...I hope we've lived up to your expectations, father....
The cane....a mighty weapon of those days....lest any body misunderstands, it was never used for 'caning'....such punishments were and still are unheard of in Loyola (from Father Varkey's times at least)...The cane was more of a deterrent...and didn't we truly need it? Looking back now, it was never used unjustly....when deserving, we got the 'kolu mithaai' and every time we knew it was coming.....like when we were seriously engaged in the sport of assailing the neighborhood's mango trees with missiles of varying nature..."Puli varunnedaaa....vittodaaa"...or loitering outside the auditorium balcony during assembly, discussing Urmila Matondkar during Mani Achan's address.....Or bunking the Youth Festival and going for 'Daud' first day, first show....."Da da da kochane....aanakku underwear thayippikkaley!!!!" But the charge sheets of these achievements never reached home.... Father had only the soundest advice to give at PTA meetings, words of encouragement and suggestions for improvement.
His snuff-box : the curious mixture held within was a mystery to all of us. But remember Father Pulickal, and Achante 'mookippodi' always comes to mind....
I remember, he had a diary in which he had carefully chronicled his travels.... he'd tell us stories of Rome and the Vatican, of Greece and the Parthenon, as eager ears strained to catch every word he said.... 'Me too will go someday, promise', I told myself....Today, as the Navy takes me on deployments around the world, I smile to myself....njanum vannacho!!!

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