Loyola then was not as large a cluster of imposing edifices as it is now. The whole new block with Berchman's Hall on the top floor didn't exist then ('New'? many may wonder, but for us who were around when it was being built, it was a sad day when the KG playground made way for it...).
Junior School in those days was housed in a block of Baker-designed, quaint old buildings...I remember, the classrooms were unnaturally cool even in the hottest of summers.
The stairs leading down from the quadrangle there would take us into the 'forest'....Where Mr CT Varkey would take PT classes followed by the games period...They had these huge tyres tied from trees, so conveniently for the little monkeys that we were to try acrobatics!!!...The forest, where we'd set up 'camps' during exams, mark out boundaries, and fight over right of way...:)
Arre, here I go on my ramblings again forgetting what I started out with in the first place.
So, rewind to '89 (think I've got the year right).
It had been raining for quite some time, and we'd got used to staying indoors all day...colourful umbrellas lined both sides of the class room, and the familiar musty smell of wet wood permeated the air...an ideal afternoon to doze off.....
Father MM Thomas comes up to the door and gesticulates urgently to Maithri Ma'am...They confer for a few moments and Ma'am tells us to pack up our things and pick up our bags...We look at each other delightedly "No more class?"Gyaani, Mr 'Know-it-all', floats his theory: 'Class Photograph'.'Yeah' sniggers somebody,'in this weather'.
Soon we are ready and moving out of the blocks, and heading towards the main building. I look around and see that the whole Junior School is out, carefully herded by worried looking teachers. 'Cyclone warning!' somebody whispers, and the smiles die out...
There we are, seated quietly in the library , eyes growing rounder and rounder, as Maithri Ma'am explains that there has been a cyclone warning, and we've been shifted to the newer buildings lest the old blocks collapse. 'Don't worry, we're all here,' she tells us reassuringly, but I can see worry shadow her eyes. And then Murray Ma'am starts off with Dumb Charades and Damu pins a paper tail to JD'S shorts...Anson and Binu are soon arguing over whose 'magnetic pencil box' is better....Vinod starts wailing for his mother and is promptly carried away by Lazar uncle....Boys will be boys, we soon forget all about the cyclone, and start exploring the library....
Well, nothing finally happened that day...the blocks refused to fall down in strong gusts of wind and Mr Baker had the last laugh....
What touched me most, if not then and there as a nine-year old, but later, in retrospect, was the love and affection that our teachers had for us, so evident on that rainy day. Maithri ma'am with her reassuring words, Murray Ma'am involving us in games to divert our worries, the 'strict' Elaine Ma'am not raising an eyebrow at the squabbling Damu and JD....Our dear 'uncles' Lazar uncle and Rajappan uncle, harangued and harassed but patient and ever smiling...
Schooldays.....aye, aye siree... those were the best days of my life....
Showing posts with label The Loyolite. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Loyolite. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
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!!!
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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