5. ETTUPARAYIL/ THODUPUZHA

Family Tree: 10. N.X.JOSEPH [APPACHAN]

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Veliyil S.D.Convent Mavely | Thottassery

11. ANTHONICHAN

Mavely

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12. SANTHOSH MINNI NURJI SUNNU

Ettuparayil | | |

| married: Mathew Joseph married: Dennis John married: Joji Thomas

married: Sunitha Paalaakaaran, Vadayaar Thottathil, Muvattupuzha Parackal, Angamaly

Vellookunnel | |

Chemmalamattom | |

| __________________|___ _______|______

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| JOHN ISABEL HEIZEL REEDA THOMAS

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13. ANTONY ASHIE

ANTHONICHAN, the seventh of Mavelil Appachan's nine children married THANKAMMA the eldest daughter of AMUM-THU-RU-THIL IYPE THOMAS from Mailacompu, Thodupuzha and settled in the Mavely property, south of the homestead. He build a house there and two years after his marriage moved in with his wife and the first born child. Later on after the death of his father Appachan, his mother Aleykutty moved in with him. Aleykutty and Appachan were living in the homestead with their son Thommachen.

Thankamma was the eldest of Iype Thomas's three children from the first marriage. She had a sister Kunjamma, seven years younger and a baby brother Thankachan, thirteen years younger. When Thankachan was just seventy days old, their mother Ithaamma died. She was afflicted with Malaria and the doctor (M.M.Varkey) who treated her, diagonised the illness too late. Ithaamma belonged to the They-kkum-kaattil family of Edappaady, Pala. A few years later Iype Thomas married again. He married Vyalattu Ko-lloo-ru Unichaamma from Pulincunnu. From this marriage he had three sons named Babu(Mathew), and the twins Georgy(Manil) and Ciby(Marshal).

By the late seventies the discord among the children of Aleykutty over her property became a quarrel. The family got polarised into two groups, the younger half on one side the the older half on the other. My father Anthonichan bore the brunt of the fallout. Aleykutty was in her eighties and ailing. In order that she have some peace of mind her son Anthonichan send her to Madras to be with her older son, Maathachan much against her will. Aleykutty asked Anthonichan to rent a house in Thodupuzha as early as possible so that she too could come and live with her younger son till the worst of the discord was tided over. But sadly this was not to be. One month after she reached Madras she died peacefully in a hospital in Madras. The year was 1980, November 17 and she was eighty four years old. She was brought back to Kannady and laid to rest with her ancestors in the Kavalam Church Cemetery......

MIGRATION...to Thodupuzha

I am SANTHOSH ANTONY, the son of MAVELIL ANTHONICHAN. We migrated to Thodupuzha in the 1980s'. To be precise it was in 1982. It was turbulent times and there was much discord in the family. I was the first to come to Thodupuzha...in 1980, following a kidnap threat my father shifted me to Thodupazha New Man College mid way through my second year in the Pre-degree Course. I was put up in my Grand father's house where I completed my PDC. During the latter half of 1981 with the help of my grand father(Iype Thomas) my father had rented a small house in Thodupuzha town. And the rest of the family came...first my youngest sister Sunnu and my father. It was Summer holidays and Sunnu who was in the seventh standard was the home maker. It was a trial and error period for her. Once she put the rice to boil with not enough water and all the water evaporated with it our afternoon meals too. We had to buy the meals from a hotel nearby and she had to spend a major part of the rest of the day trying to clean up the pot. Later my mother Thankamma and my other two sisters, Minnikutty and Nurji came. I joined the B.Com degree Course in the New Man College. My sister Minnikutty joined the second year of the Pre Degree Course and the second sister Nurji also joined the first year Pre Degree Course in the same College. Sunnu was put in a boarding school in Pala.

The rented house was small and congested. It consisted of a small dinky kitchen and an even smaller work area. The dining room couldn't fit in our dining table. Of the two bed rooms, the larger one hosted the dining table and there was barely enough room to walk around the table. During day time the dining chairs were stacked on the table along with the books of the children. And at night time all these were pushed to a corner to make room for Nurji to sleep. Minikutty slept in the dining room on the small dining table. The drawing room was the smallest room in the house and it had just enough room to host a settee. During the nights it acted as my bed. The other bed room was used by Acchachan and Ammavu. But whenever the Engineer came from Alappuzha to supervise the construction of the new house...it became the guest room. My bed was taken over by Acchachan. Ammavu slept in the dining room. Minnikutty moved in on the big dining table with Nurji and I slept in the guest room of our neighbour, Jose Chettan (Panjikunnel). The fridge was never switched on as it was used as a cupboard, for opening the steel cupboard was an onerous task. One had to push the dining table to the extreme wall. Even then one could only open half of the steel cupboard. So it was opened very rarely. Acchachan's office table had no space to be put up and so it wound its way up on Jose chettan's sit out. Ultimately it became my study table. I still remember those chilly December days, braving the cold evening breeze...and the hot black coffee that Lizzy chechi some times served. Whenever Sunnu came home she used to share the table with Nurji to sleep. And some times the chubby little baby(Babichan), who was not even one year old...whom the girls used to bring from Lizzy Chechi's house. Finally, we had three servants. The maid servant slept in the kitchen. The man servant who looked after the cows slept in the work area and the boy servant slept in the attic among the unopened boxes of clothing and other household articles. Like the house owner, the old woman whom we called the 'ammoomma' used to say...' they have servants and their servants have servants.' It was crowded and noisy but we were all happy.

We had planned to shift to the new house within an year, but it wasn't to be. When the construction had reached the lintel level there was a shortage of cement which delayed the construction for over six month. By the time we moved into the new house, almost two years had gone by. It wasn't the type of moving in that was memorable or would be remembered. The out house was completed first. It was a unplastered brick and tile style house; old fashioned. In fact except for the bricks everything was old...because it was an old paddy house auctioned from the Malankara Estate. But it was thrilling to be moving into our own house. Slowly the main house was completed and I don't even remember moving into it because it was done so gradually. Even after moving in, there were two carpenters from Kannady working on the cupboards and furniture for over an year. By that time I had finished my college education...

HIGH SCHOOL...in Kotagiri

Leaving on a Jet Plane...errr...Train

I got admission in Kotagiri Public School in Kotagiri (Tamil Nadu) in 1975. I joined the school there in the 7^thclass.

I remember the long train journey. Tea Garden Express left Ernakulam at about 5 in the evening. It wasn’t boring because it was my first journey in a train. More precisely, it was my second train journey; the first one was when I was too young to appreciate. My father came with me. I was a little depressed to be going so far away from home, but I enjoyed the ride, peeping out through the grill with my face pressed to it----at least until the coal dust got into my eyes. The train was pulled by a steam engine. I went to sleep early on the as it got too dark to watch the scenery outside. I slept fitfully as the wooden bunk gave me a stiff back. I tossed and turned around and towards early morning I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up it was daylight and got up with a heavy feeling. I looked outside and the scenery depressed me even more. It was barren with scattered shrubs and trees, and in the near distance I could see smoke Blue Mountains. It was very cold ---I was astonished that it could be this cold in the plains. It was January 1975.

We reached Mettupalayam at about 7’O’ clock in the morning. We had with us a heavy trunk and bedding. We checked into the waiting room. My father took a bath, after him I had mine. On enquiring we found that the bus stand was about furlong away. The porter asked for Rs10/- for taking the luggage to the bus stand. My father said three, but he wouldn’t go below seven. So my father took hold of one end of the trunk and asked me to lift the other end. It was heavy as it was, but with the bedding on top you can imagine. ‘Oh God’ I thought ‘why do you test me so’. We took a few steps; the porter came and said that he will carry the luggage for a fiver. But my father said –‘No deal’. I could almost feel my arms coming off its socket. As we walked on, I thought of the furlong and it seemed miles away. My arms ached, my back ached, my legs felt wobbly. I thought I’d be better off dead. I was enormously relieved when the porter came and agreed to carry the baggage for the amount my father had insisted on. I could have kissed him; my sigh of relief must have been audible.

I felt sick during the bus journey. The lurching bus slowly crawled up the winding road. I was thankful that I fell asleep somewhere along the way and did not throw up. It was a troubled sleep filled with incoherent and dreadful dreams. After what seemed a long time we reached Kotagiri. The cold was biting and the town was nothing like I imagined. It was squalid and crowded. I had imagined it to be pretty and picturesque. We took room in a small hotel. I rummaged through my box for a sweater. I was at the end of my emotional tether. I badly wanted to cry, but somehow held back the tears. Even though I wore the sweater I still shivered. It was all not due to the cold alone, but partly because I was homesick too.

The School - first day

We took a taxi to the school. Soon we left the town and there were tea gardens all around. The way to the school from the main road was not asphalted and was dusty. We reached the school in a cloud of dust. On seeing the school I was nervous and on the brink of tears all over again. My father met the principal, Mr. M. L. Bright, a tall dark man with a bald pate. He had a pleasant, genial behaviour. But I disliked him immediately. From the time I saw him till the time I left school I was afraid of him. The first day itself I saw through his genial façade instinctively. But I got to admit that he was a manager par excellence. Kotagiri was a beautiful little town and the school was ideally situated a few kilometres outside the town. My father met Mr. Bright and introduced himself and me. Mr. Bright gave us a broad smile, shook hands with my father, spoke with him for a few minutes and patted me on the back, tousled my hair. His laugh had a hollow timbre to it. My father accompanied me to the dormitory where we deposited the trunk (the bedding was taken back as the school supplied mattresses to all the students) and went up to the office. I bid my father goodbye with dry eyes and a heavy heart. Soon after he left I cried bitterly, but silently as I always do. I was one of the early arrivals. Many students came---old and new and the principal was busy greeting their parents. He passed me by a few times but he never seemed to notice me at all. I was very upset by it and detested him wholeheartedly throughout my school days. Combined with my home sickness it was emotionally distressing.

I was crying and filled with self pity so did not notice, when one of the older students came to me and said, ‘My God, it’s a shame big boys don’t cry’. He had a sincere and friendly way about him. The way he talked soothed me. He told me his name was Hans Raj and asked me mine. He then took me to the dormitory. Valley view was my first dormitory and Mrs. Fernandez, a middle aged woman was the matron. She was severe but kindly woman. She helped me unpack my trunk. I was a day earlier than most students and as she didn’t have much work to do then, she helped me put away my clothes in the cupboard. She also numbered all my clothes for me. My number was 301. All the while she asked me questions about my home, previous school etc, which I answered in monosyllables and incoherently because I was not very familiar using English. Back in Kerala I studied in an English medium school but mostly never spoke in English. So I was a bit handicapped and could not express myself clearly because of the limited vocabulary. She had almost finished marking my clothes when two of the old students came in. She introduced me to them and excused herself saying she had much work to do.

After lunch I was sitting by myself when Hans Raj came and asked me whether I would like to play cricket. I went and played the game as I had nothing better to do and also it helped lessen the depression I felt. The next day most of the students arrived and there was a lot of activity. Almost all the students were boarders and all my class mates were in the same dormitory. That night everybody talked about their holidays and the adventures they had. Earlier Mrs. Fernandez had showed me how to make my bed. The rule was that the lights should be switched off at 9’O’ clock. Even after the lights were switched off there was a lot of chatter silenced for a few moments when the matron calls out, ’who is talking over there’ from her room. Hearing all the friendly banter, in the darkness as I lay there I felt home sick. I don’t know when, but I fell asleep thinking of home.

The Library and Mr. Jacobs

This school was better than my old school in nearly every aspect. It was a lot smaller and there were far fewer students in the school. The best I liked about the school is the library. It isn’t very big, but it was adequate. The library was next to the office room. It was long and narrow divided in the middle into two by two book shelves with a passage in the middle. The first section was the reading room. It had a big window at one end and a cushioned bench close to the near wall on the left as you enter. In the middle there was a low table and then a sofa on the other side. The far wall was lined with books. In the second section the walls were lined with books all around. This section was sacrosanct. Only the serious reader ever entered this part. It was filled with reference books and biographies and other nonfiction books. The best feeling when you enter the library out from the cold was the immediate warmth you felt. With all those books around you one felt at home. There were a lot of good books. Even as a small child I liked to sit by myself with a book. Many times I was happier alone than with company. When studying in Loyola, Trivandrum, I developed the reading habit. Whenever I was free I was in the library. Very soon I was called a book worm and somehow the name stuck. I was in the Library as often as I could. Mr. Jacobs the librarian was a kindly person even though he rarely smiled. He was tall and thin with a gaunt face. He was neither fair nor overtly dark and when he spoke for long he used to froth at the mouth which I found distasteful. But I liked him still. He always chose good books for me to read. Once he chose ‘the Hunchback of Notre Dame’. I couldn’t make head or tail out of it. He asked me how I liked the book when I returned it. I told him I could not understand it and he mumbled to himself that maybe it was a bit beyond my years. He said that I should read it when I was a little older. Till date I have not read that book. I used to get him to write me the matter for debates and elocution. He used to refuse me by saying that I should write it myself but I always cajoled him to help me out. He was one of the two teachers that helped me with my English. Whenever I mispronounced a word, he would call me aside and correct me without embarrassing me. I will always remember him favorably.

Mr. Santhosh Kumar

Mr. Santhosh Kumar was another teacher I liked very much. He was our class teacher. He I believe was everyone’s favourite teacher. Of all the teachers I had through the years I believe he was the only one who genuinely cared and felt for his pupils. May be that’s why when he left school there was hardly a dry eye. I still remember how copiously Danesh held on to his hands and cried. Poor Mr. Santhosh Kumar, he must have felt miserable too. I am sorry I didn’t appreciate his real worth then. Many years and many teachers later only did I realize what a great teacher he was. Had he not left school our class destiny would have been different. We would not have been so naughty and mischievous and oh so uncontrollable. We would not have got into so much trouble and finally I truly believe in my heart that most of us would have been better qualified people when we grew up.

My first crush

The school library is one place I will never forget. It was literally my second home. In my first year in school, at the beginning I had few friends and I found solace in books. But my most found memories are not the books. It was in the library I developed my first crush. There was a student a year senior to me and she was very pretty except for maybe her hooked nose. She used to come to the library frequently. Sometimes her younger brother came with her. She was friendly and we used to talk and also sit together and leaf through the magazines. Sitting near her gave me the goose bumps. Over time we became good friends and I liked sitting with her. She never knew that I had a crush on her.

Houses and Games

I remember the day we were allotted our house colours. There were about twenty or some new students. During the games period we were asked to line up in the basket ball court. Then Mr. Bright and the P.T. master and another teacher discussed among themselves and in a random order allotted us to some house or the other. Ravi was standing next to me and we were both given the same colours. We became members of the Godavari House and our colours were blue. At the time I joined school there were only four houses, namely Godavari-blue, Ganga-green, Cauvery-red and Yamuna-yellow. By the time I was in the 9th standard two years hence, two more houses were created and the girls were exclusively given these houses, Bhavani and Narmada. The only game I played well at the time I joined school was football. It was a game that all kids in Kerala played well. At that time except maybe for Gopal I was the best in our class in football. Soon I became good in basket ball and cricket. I was a fair hand in volley ball. Me being a lefty, I found it very difficult to play hockey. In school all games were compulsory. Each day every class was allotted to play a specific game. So I became proficient in most games. Hockey was my bugbear, I stood goalie always and I was very bad at that too.

Academic proficiency

Before coming to KPS my academic achievements were nothing to rave about. In a class of fifty plus students I stood at ten or twenty places from the bottom. Things were different in the beginning. In the Kindergarten and in the first standards I stood first in class because the class teacher Ms. Miranda took a fancy to me, probably because my uncle, a priest was the principal there. By the time I was in second standard the class teacher had changed and my rank fell to second or third. By third standard my fall was even more drastic. I couldn’t grasp some of what was taught and my rank was at the half way mark. From the fourth standard onwards it was a free fall. I couldn’t understand much of what was taught and I was stuck permanently at the bottom. But after joining KPS I was always in the top six or seven. A few times I stood third or fourth in class. My father proudly filed the progress reports safely. I still have it with me. May be it is a reflection of the lower standards here. May be it was because of the fewer students in each class and as result each student received more attention. Definitely it was due to the better teaching and even better facilities available here. Whatever it was I started grasping most of what was taught. I never tried hard in my studies but always wound up in the top quarter. The teachers were good, Mr. and Mrs. Bright, Mr. Richard, Mr. Henry, Mr. Santhosh Kumar, Mr. Gideon, all spoke excellent English. Mr. Abraham, Mr. Hubert Singh, Mr. Sundereshan, Miss. Alice Mathew, all customized the English language but all of them were excellent teachers. I believe that you will agree with me when I say we were fortunate that right through our school days we had a core of good teachers.

Religion and rites

It was a protestant school and the bulk of the students were either Protestants or Hindus. I am a Roman Catholic, and there were a sprinkling of Catholics in school. One of the matrons, Mrs. Fernandez too was a catholic. She used to take us to the Catholic Church every Sunday. Sometimes we went to the church in town, sometimes we went to a convent nearby and sometimes we went to the friary that too very rarely. We liked the mass at the Friary the best because after the mass we had breakfast with the priests and the lay brothers. After the mediocre fare at school, the breakfast at the Friary was delicious. Even otherwise it was gourmet stuff. We used to hog up as much as and a little bit more than what our stomach could hold, in spite of the cold stares from Mrs. Fernandez. May be it was because we hogged so much we went there very little. And it might be because the brothers there insisted; that Mrs. Fernandez took us there some times. And apparently there were no drawbacks. Next we liked going to the convent for the mass. The mass was short and was in English. So it wasn’t boring. But it had one drawback, the mass was at 6.15am so we had to get up early in the morning and brave the cold. We least liked going to the town church because the mass was long and boring. The mass was in Tamil of which I could understand very little. The one good thing was that the mass was at 10.30am, so we could sleep late. Sunday was a holiday and was the only day we could sleep late. We only need to get up in time for breakfast at eight. So it was a damn sight better to sleep till 7 in the morning, have breakfast and attend the Tamil service. We used to be given twenty five paisa to be given as charity to the church. Many a time I had contemplated keeping the coin to myself and thus augment my pocket money. But nearly always the fear of the Lord was greater than my avarice. One good thing about attending the mass at the friary was that I gained some friends there among the brothers. Sometimes they came to visit us at school. Mr. Bright once invited them to the school officially. They came in the evening and the students put a variety entertainment program. It was very good and I was puffed with pride. The priests and the brothers in turn put up some entertainment programs for the students. It was so good, it eclipsed our program. I was glad for them.

Once or twice the priests discussed with Mrs. Fernandez, about taking Catechism for us. When we learned about it we were horrified. Notwithstanding the sumptuous breakfasts, we cussed the day we met the priests. Hoping against hope that things would not go the way the elders planned we kept our fingers crossed. Ultimately things went our way; I don’t know why but ‘Thank God’ the catechism classes never worked out. We did not have time to bask in the escape from Catechism for very soon we got into big trouble. It seemed as usual a perfect Sunday. I was in the 9th standard then. It wasn’t very cold that day so we decided to go to the convent for the mass. The trouble began as the service neared its end. The holy bread without the holy wine was being given to the holy people, most of who were around fifty. We the unholy youngsters, who did not fear the Lord as much as them, were bored. Antony Peter and myself for want of having nothing better to do started breaking our knuckles. In the pin drop silence they sounded like pistol shots. The chapel was small and the sound could be heard all over. I suppose Warwin too joined in. We were blissfully unaware of the cold stares we got from the faithful and kept on breaking our knuckles in earnest. Mrs. Fernandez turned beetroot red in shame and consternation. We were not aware of her frowning and fuming. Had we known the consequences that awaited us, we would have shrivelled in our pants. As soon as the mass was over we started back for school and breakfast. Mrs. Fernandez raved and ranted the whole way back. We were a subdued lot when we reached school. She admonished and scolded us and we thought the matter was laid to rest and the small storm in the tea cup was over. But alas, we were in for further, bigger trouble. That damn old harridan had complained to the principal. Luckily for me she had no knowledge of who, and how many had broken their knuckles for I was the main culprit. May be she was so ashamed of us she did not care. Definitely she must have named Warwin. We were called to meet the principal. My heart was beating overtime. We, six of us were standing in front of Mr. Bright’s office and none of us were brave enough to go inside. We stood there undecided and fidgeting as to who should lead the cavalcade in, when finally Warwin with a show of bravado knocked on the door. A curt ‘come in’ was heard from the other side. Warwin walked in first and we were all about to follow suit when suddenly the door banged shut in our faces. All was still for a moment then we could hear the swish of the cane cutting the air and subdued cries of pain. My heart sank and I felt my knees wobble---is this the treatment awaiting the rest of us? Well considering what Warwin received, we all got off lightly. He then commenced a lecture on we should behave and keep the decorum of the school flying high. We all nodded vigorously and had he kept on with his preaching any longer we would have nodded our heads right off our necks. After that I always behaved myself in church, not because Mr. Bright’s sermon had reformed me but because I was afraid if the cane. I always had this irresistible urge to break knuckles in church but always caught myself in time. The thought of the cane and the pain and the formidable face behind it, all restrained me.

I remember another misdemeanour that happened on the way from church. That was in the 8th standard. On our way back from church we used to cut across the tea gardens, but sometimes we used to take the longer route. Two of us used to engage Mrs. Fernandez in small talk, while the rest of us used to go ahead and pluck pears. It was on one of these forays that we decided to pluck roses from Pandiraj Park. Three of us Glenn, Christopher and I got in very carefully through the barbed wire fence so as not to clothes on the barbs. We quickly plucked a few flowers, but then the watchman saw us. He along with the gardener came at us shouting. They looked ominous and we took to our heels simultaneously. While getting out through the fence in a hurry I scraped my leg on the barbed wire. I did not wait to see how bad the cut was. I fled as if all the devils were after me. I didn’t stop until I was half way up to school. For that matter none of us stopped running until we were sure that we were safe. All the time I had held on to the roses tightly. The roses were crushed and ruined.

On the feast of ‘Our Lady’ we always went to the town church. There always is a fete on that day. There are lots of petty shops selling candies and all kinds of eatables, toys and bangles and all sorts of things. We used to get a pocket money of Rs3/-I mostly always bought sweets because there wasn’t anything else to buy with such a meager amount. But it was fun wandering around the crowded petty shops window shopping and bird watching. The only drawback was that there very few pretty birds.

Class room – first days

I remember my first day in the classroom. There were about thirty students. A few of us were new to the school. The class rooms were better equipped than in my previous school. Students could choose any seat and I being one of the first arrivals (in the classroom) chose a good corner seat. The room was quiet large and each student a separate desk and chair, which in itself was a luxury to me. In my previous school even though the rooms were large it was crowded with over fifty students to each class. At least five of us were packed on to a desk and bench, with nothing to lean back and with not enough elbow room to write freely. Altogether it was a pain in the arse. So the chair was a privilege. In my previous school only the teacher had a chair to sit on. I had chosen a corner seat and was sitting there thinking of home. I was homesick. Slowly other students started filling in. They were familiar with each other and were chatting happily. The friendly chatter and the ambience of the class room slowly dissolved the heavy feeling in my heart. I knew nobody so I was silent and thinking I did not like the colour of our uniform which was a dirty brown pant for the boys and brown skirts for the girls. The shirt was a cream colour. The sweater was brown. Some wore full sleeved polo necked sweaters and some others sleeveless ‘V’ necked sweaters with brown tie with the school emblem in the middle above two thin golden stripes. I loved the sweaters because they were warm. But I liked the Blazer even better because it really was warm and you could dig your hands in its pockets and keep it warm. All of a sudden my serenity was shattered when one of the old students came and told me to move over. He said that this place belonged to him. Trouble was brewing up; I was in no mood to oblige. I told him that the teacher had earlier said that one can chose any place one wanted. He started getting rough with me and I decided that I wasn’t going to give up without a fight. He started pulling my shirt. We pulled and pushed; I looked around and could find no support from any one. Most of them were cheering Shajin and egging him on. Suddenly I felt homesick and all the fight went out of me. Even though we were of similar height and built and the odds were even I gave up as all the boys were for Shajin and the girls were neutral. Filled with self pity and shame I moved over shedding a few silent tears which I surreptitiously wiped off with the back of my hands hoping nobody would see it. Throughout my school days I was never felt comfortable with Shajin. That was in the 7th standard and that year I made a good friend; Glenn Boaz. It was funny how we met. I was new in school. Shafeeq was the boss. On his prompting, Glenn started teasing me. I kept quiet as I was new here and knew nobody. Slowly it became a scuffle. Glenn was stronger than me and I was losing the fight. I felt hot and embarrassed and was in no mood to give up. I was a classical case of catching the tiger by the tail. Providentially for me a teacher showed up and punished both of us. Afterwards we became good friends. Glenn was the clown of the class. He had a very mobile face and ‘my God’ he could be funny. We became very close friends. Glenn had another close friend, Thomas Kurien, Tom for short. Glenn was more close to Tom than he was to me. Glenn was in KPS for only one year. What I mean is that he left one year after I joined school. We had a lot of fun. We used to swap good memories, tall stories about home and some boasting.

In the 7th standard Ajith Chandran was the class prefect. He was tall with a slight stoop and he wore specs which made him look older. He and I were good friends. I still remember the elections. There were only two candidates. Ajith was one and the other was a girl. I don’t rightly remember whether it was Sumathy or Renjini. The votes were polarized and everyone knew it. All the boys voted boys and the girls voted girls. The boys outnumbered the girls almost three to one. And when the votes were counted all the boys had voted male and the girls’ female but there was one anomaly. One boy had voted for the girl. The boys were furious and some of them accused each other. I knew that the contest was lop sided and I felt sorry for the girl so I had voted for the girl. I kept silent and acted innocent.

Valley View Dormitory

At that time one of our favorite past times on Sunday was hunting. Sundays we were free almost the whole day. We could wake up late. After breakfast there was one hour of either Sunday school or Moral science depending on whether you were a Christian or a non Christian. For the relatively few Catholics, Mrs. Fernandez got an exemption from that year on wards as she started taking us to the Catholic Church. She had enough numbers on hand that year to ask Mr. Bright for permission to take us to the church. After Sunday school one was free to do as one pleases till evening first study. So after Sunday school we used to go hunting in the small woods near our dormitory. We used to hunt birds with homemade slings. Glenn was good with slings. Occasionally he caught birds with it. We imagined ourselves to be big game hunters and the birds that we caught as big ferocious beasts. The birds that we shot down were pitifully few, but all the same we had a jolly good time. I was always secretly sad whenever we killed a bird and always was happy with the close misses that Glen was disappointed. Glenn was better than me with the sling and whatever we shot down goes to his credit. Any way I am glad that it wasn’t me that killed those small cute birds. More than hunting birds we spend time gathering wild berries. We used to pluck goose berries and strawberries. After we had gathered pocketfuls of berries we used to hunt some shady place and sit there and enjoy eating the berries. Nearly everyone in our dormitory (Valley View) went hunting or forays in the woods on Sundays.

Another past time during Sundays was trying to catch the baby monkeys. We used to put cookies in horlicks bottle and put a noose on top of the bottle. The leash from the noose was long and we settled under the shade of a tree and waited. After a time the curious baby monkeys used to come and pick the cookies from the jar. Then we used to pull hard on the leash and the noose tightened on the arms of the baby monkey. Hearing the shrieks of the baby monkey their mothers came bounding in ferociously. We used to let go the leash and race inside our dorms. Thus we never caught a monkey, but nearly always lost a rope.

The ‘tuck room’ was one of the few joys we had. It was a small room in the dormitory where all the eatables brought from home were kept. I always come to school from home by train so I brought very little tuck with me which was over very soon. But others used to share tuck with me and kids like me who had little tuck if we hang around the tuck room. We only had access to it once a day in the evening. Not everyone brought tuck when they came from home, but most shared it out with others. Annamalai brought large quantities of tuck and his tuck never got exhausted as it was constantly replenished from home. Another person who brought huge quantities of tuck was Sri Ram, one chap I will always remember even though he was there for one year only. He was a molly coddle so everyone bullied him. I didn’t join the bandwagon as I felt sorry for him and I hated hurting guys weaker than me. The only time he wasn’t bullied was when he had ‘tuck’. After the holidays or whenever his father came, which was often, he had loads of tuck. And then everyone was singing praises of him and making up to him. However much tuck he had it never lasted more than a week. Everyone including me had a hand in finishing it off. I am ashamed to think that I too had been obsequious to get some tit-bits from him. When his tuck was over it riveted back to the old ways- he was bullied constantly. In a way I was glad when his tuck was over, since I was the only one who showed him some kindness. He was taken for a silly fellow and was nick named ‘Silly Ram’. If Shafeeq or Shajin wanted get their shoes polished on the sly, they used to praise Sri Ram. When Sri Ram was polishing his shoes, Shafeeq would say, ‘Sri Ram, where did you learn to polish so nicely, da? Will you teach me da? I can see my face in the shoes da. How come you get such a mirror finish?’ Sri Ram’s face would light up like a candle when thus praised. To this Sri Ram would say, ‘No da, it’s a secret da. I won’t tell you da. Then Shafeeq would cajole, ‘Will you then please polish my shoes too like you did yours?’ Sri Ram would reply with pride, ‘Yes, I will polish it for you but I won’t show you how.’ Well he did polish and it was so good that the shoes shone brightly and there was an extra sheen to it. We had our laugh behind his back. The Valley View dormitory was one big hall as you enter through the front door in one corner. That is the only entrance except for the separate entrance to the matron’s quarters. The big hall was lined with double Decker cots on both sides where most of the students slept. There was a smaller room on the far side as you enter the main hall. In that room there were four double Decker cots where eight of us slept. One wall was lined with cupboards and on the opposite side one cot was placed. The entrance was on the longer wall. The wall opposite had two cots and the wall with the door had one cot. I slept in this room along with Shafeeq, who was in a way the boss. He had the largest number of followers in our class. Shajin was his side kick. He had a scar on his nose which did not mar his good looks. He had a gleam in his eyes and was always ready for mischief. Thomas Kurien, the spoilt kid. He was very robust and almost beautiful enough to be a girl, but be warned he was no sissy. He could fight so no one tangled with him. Glenn Boaz, was good at clowning, but stood no nonsense from anyone. Ajith Chandran, a genial, long legged chap and he could not see clearly without his specs. He was the class prefect and maybe because of that he had a permanent frown on his face. Ram Prasad a small likeable chap with a broad smile and was very mischievous and last there was Sri Ram, the underdog.

After the exams are over there is a great feeling of elation and relief. The next day most of us start for home. But the day the exams get over the whole dormitory is boiling over with excitement. The air is filled with shouts and shrieks of joy and the whole ambience is happiness. It was the last day of the final exam in the 7th standard. That night we were all dead tired and Sri Ram fell asleep first. Shafeeq conjured up the plan. Shajin and Glenn executed it. First they got some rope from somewhere and trussed up Sri Ram tightly. Then they took some boot polish and applied it to his face. Somebody put streaks of tooth paste interlaced with cold cream. Sri Ram slept through it all blissfully unaware. He looked ghastly. In the morning all of us woke up early to watch the fun when Sri Ram woke up. The fellow was sleeping like a log. So impatient to have some fun Shajin woke him up and told him his father is coming. Sri Ram woke up groggily and tried to get out of the bed but he couldn’t manage as he was all tied up and he was on the upper tier of the double Decker cot. We all laughed hard till our sides split. It was comical to watch, with his face so disfigured with polish and cold cream and tooth paste. Finally he managed to get out of the tangle, but he still did not realize that his face looked ghastly. The funniest part was when somebody shouted Sri Ram’s father is coming. On realizing that it was true you should have seen the panic that set in. Somebody had the presence of mind to go and delay Sri Ram’s father in a conversation. The tables were turned. Shajin rushed in with a towel and wiped most of the polish off. From somewhere Glenn fetched a pail of water. Shafeeq and Ram Prasad forcefully dipped Sri Ram’s head in the bucket and rough hands scrubbed his face clean. Somebody shoved a clean towel for him to wipe his face dry. Within a span of a few minutes his face was cleaned of the rot. Sri Ram was still dazed when his father came in. We were all smiles and good manners and with suppressed laughter we helped pack his trunk, thus facilitated his journey. There was a collective sigh of relief when Sri Ram and his genial father went on their way. I watched the father and son disappear in the distance climbing the ‘oh, so many steps’ with a huge smile plastered on my face. If I had realized that I was seeing Sri Ram for the last time I would have felt a little remorse.

Malayalam classes

Malayalam was my second language. I abhorred it from the bottom of my heart. In almost every language class something went wrong. And that means trouble. I developed a fear psychosis for the language class and over time I became dense and stupid where Malayalam was concerned. To begin with, I was always a little backward in Malayalam. Of course I am very comfortable and can fluently speak it, but the hitch is that I find it hard to read Malayalam coherently; and even harder to write it. Not a sentence is complete without a spelling mistake. About grammar, it is better that i say nothing as it was all Greek to me. That is not the end; the worst was the study of poetry. Anyway there was a lull in the torrid Malayalam classes, when Miss Alice Mathew was the language teacher. She was the best Malayalam teacher we've ever had. She at least showed some understanding. She hailed from Kottayam. She was so diminutive, that even for my small height, I towered over her. I stood a head taller than her. She was neither fair nor very dark and she had curly hair, like tightly coiled springs. I was very shy and hated the stage. But she made me the main character of a villu paattu. It is somewhat similar to Katha prasangam. People sat in front of a big bow like musical instrument and sang parody songs. The main person explains the story in the songs, in between the songs. I was the one who delivered the speeches in between the parody songs. Our villu paattu must have been good, for it was presented on Parents day. Well, to get me to take the centre stage; she must have worked some magic and hypnotised me. One Onam she took the students who were willing to Malampuzha. Of all the language teachers i liked Miss Alice Mathew the most. Language classes meant vivid painful memories of cainings and impositions, frustrations and hopelessness.

Let us now come to the class. There were nine of us in the Malayalam class [Shafeeq, Shajin, Antony Peter, Hemanth, Danesh, Susan, Veena, Anitha, and me]. The classes were usually conducted in the assembly hall. Hindi classes were also conducted in a different part of the same hall. Tamil classes were taken in the classroom. They were luckier because at least they had desks. We only had benches to sit on and we had to keep the note books in our laps and write in it in an awkward position. Every trough has a crest. The good thing was that when the bell goes for the next period we used to walk very slowly to the Malayalam class. That shaved off at least five minutes and another few minutes to settle down. The teacher will be waiting, impatient and fuming. After Miss Alice Mathew took over we had come to enjoy the Malayalam classes a little better. Soon after the summer holidays [I had passed to the 9th standard that year] when we joined school we were glad to hear that the previous teacher had left school and has been replaced by a new one. This teacher stood less than five feet tall even if she stood on her toes. She was an instant success with us.

The year before Miss Alice Mathew took over; we had a teacher whose name I don’t remember. She was the worst. We dreaded her. She was fair, tall and good-looking, but I haven’t seen her relax or smile and she never said a kind word at all. How can she??? with a bunch of dunces like us to teach. With the kind of students we were it is a wonder that she didn’t pull her hair out. She was always scolding and grumbling at our thick headedness. We didn’t mind that at all, but what irked us the most was the sudden test papers. Just as we troop in to the class she would shock us by announcing a test paper. With suppressed glee she would ask us to take down the questions and answer them. I think she took pleasure in seeing the shock on our faces because nothing else could disturb our equanimity. Actually it was not the tests that shocked us, but the thought of the impositions we had to write if we fail. Invariably we used to fail in these tests. You can guess the aftermath - well the next few days were spend writing impositions. As it became a regular feature of our scholastic life we did not mind it as much as we did in the beginning. May be the teacher realised this, so one day she did a turn on us. As usual we failed the test. She asked us to get the answer paper signed by the principal before the next Malayalam period. That was a blow in the dark considering the marks we got. Except for two of the girls, we all got marks below five out of the total of twenty five. To top it all Shajin bagged a zero. After the classes were over we had a discussion as to what to do. Finally we decided to call the teacher's bluff and forget it and go about as usual. The next day as we trooped into the dreaded Malayalam class room, the first thing the teacher asked for was the test papers. As none of us had got the papers signed by the principal, she ordered us to go to the principal immediately and get it signed. We tried everything, pleaded with her, begged her; promised her that we will study better in future, and so on. It was of no avail, nothing, not even the tears of the girls moved her. It was like waves falling on a rock. She was stony and adamant, she wouldn't budge. So five minutes later we were standing in front of the principal's office. Another five minutes later we were still standing there. None of us had the courage to go in. We were arguing as to who should go in first. Finally we cajoled Mandi to go in. He knocked and the voice from the other side said a curt 'come in'. 'Well, what do you want?' he asked us gravely. We were petrified so with some difficulty, stuttering and stammering we explained our predicament. 'Weren't you supposed to come yesterday?' His question took some seconds to register and when it did; we were dumb stuck. He had known all along and he was playing us on like a cat does a mouse. The teacher had already told him. All the while he was softly caressing a cane and our eyes were riveted on it. Slowly he got up and one by one he cained us. Those who got cained the first were the ones worst off. He then told us he did not want to see us in that office again for the same reason. Of course we promised him, vigorously nodding our heads (and rubbing our bottoms). Given half a chance he wouldn’t see us for the some reason. But even that half chance is in God's hands because we really were stupid where Malayalam was concerned.

Chemistry teacher (Mr. Abraham)

Mr. Abraham our Chemistry teacher was tall and thin. His English was atrocious. He had a Malayalam accent which was funny and he talked fast and fluently. He could convey his thoughts and ideas very lucidly. Only, any grammar teacher would hold his head in frustration because he created his own grammar. He was a very good teacher and he knew what he was teaching. For me his Chemistry classes were interesting. Overall he was friendly with us and he taught us well. Once he asked me a definition which I didn't know. He told me to write the definition a hundred times. I finished the imposition on a sheet of paper. I wrote it so small that it was impossible to read the small neat scribbling without a lens. Mr. Abraham was surprised and doubted that it was written a hundred times. I insisted i had written it a hundred times. He was angry and said that he could not read it, told me to write it a thousand times and larger. I was shocked and tears welled up in my eyes. He took pity on me and condoned the punishment.

Going on holidays

I waited for the holidays eagerly. As the holidays drew near I used to tick off each date and count the number of days left for the holidays. For those of us whom the parents did not come to pick us up, we were escorted home by a staff member or two. It was a boisterous thing; the packing and the lugging around with a lot of banter. On the way home we used to spend what was left of our pocket money which we had hoarded and had so much trouble hiding it from the teachers who would confiscate if found. By the time we reached home not a penny would be left, for after the holidays we will be coming back with replenishments. We had lots and lots of fun. I smile, when I think of all those exciting moments. Oh! There were so many happy little moments telescoping into each other, that trying to describe it will be like bizarre kaleidoscope of bright colours. The day the exams were over was our deliverance day. Our joy knew no bounds; the unforgettable rickety bus ride from Kotagiri to Mettupalayam. We used to sing and dance all the way down. In the railway station we used to wander about and explore every nook and corner. Well the escorts (teachers) must have had a tough time keeping us together. In the train we used to play cards and tell tall tales. Some of us slept, but many of us stayed awake. The train started from Mettupalayam in the evening and we reached Ernakulam early next morning. And i reached home by late afternoon. Usually someone awaits me at the station. One person I can’t forget is Mathew Thomas. He was a handful for any teacher, so mischievous, he must have terrorised the teachers mentally. He was up there in the forefront of everything; in short he was the life of the party. He was a jolly person with no cares, playing the fool with everyone. He was one big practical joker who could be kidded and a game chap. He was a year junior to me. The largest contingent was for Kerala, so also the most boisterous. And the toughest teacher came as our escort. Usually it was Mr. Kanakaraj.

I remember my first trip home alone. My joy knew no bounds when i received the permission from home to travel alone without being escorted. The day school closed, i got Rs 40/- from the office -travelling expenses. Plus i had a solid fifty bucks of my own, leftover from my secret pocket money. I started home with Hemanth. We avoided the usual route. What we wanted was novelty, so we travelled by bus all the way instead of using the train. We boarded buses from Kotagiri, Mettupalayam, and Coimbatore. Hemanth got down at Palghat (his home town). He saw me off from the transport bus stand to Ernakulam. I reached Ernakulam by eight in the night. I landed at Alleppey by midnight. I made myself comfortable in the boat jetty and dozed off by about 4 a.m. When i next opened my eyes it was already 6 in the morning. I reached home in time for breakfast. I was shocked to know that my father had gone to receive me at the railway station at Ernakulam. Meanwhile I was oblivious to the drama that was unfolding at Ernakulam. My father was worried to not find me with the students on the train. He must have one of the worst frights of his life. He telephoned the school, called my uncle in Madras; put a man missing complaint at Coimbatore and Kotagiri Police stations. He came back to Alleppey tired and depressed. When he came to our shop at Alleppey he learned that I had reached home safely. My mother had phoned the shop and told them that i had reached home safely. I don’t know what my father felt - of course relief must have been the topmost one. He had to call up the school, the police stations and my uncle and tell them that i had reached home safely. Quiet a storm in a tea cup.

Climate

Kotagiri is supposed to the best - nay the second best climate in the world (school catalogue). Well whoever it was that said that, I couldn't cotton on to that idea. I liked the climate back home better. I preferred the stifling heat to the blistering cold. Back home I never had to worry about using cold cream or oil to protect my skin. Here if i forget to use the face cream or oil, scales used to form and my skin cracked up - especially the lips. I don’t know what standards they use to assess which climate is better. Had I been the one to decide it, I never would have given Kotagiri second thoughts.

Romances?

In school all the seniors had girl friends and if any senior boy had no girl friend, some junior girl was thrust upon him. Thus I was paired with a girl junior to me. I was too shy and have never spoken to her or her to me. I think she must have been shyer than me. Usually it was better to choose one, than have one chosen for you. Me, I was lucky in that I had noticed her before and liked her much. Somehow someone must have read my mind and paired us together. First I noticed her during the Onam holidays. Because there were a lot of Malayalis; the school gave about four or five days or so as Onam holidays. Many students went home, but just as many stayed back. In the 9th standard we went for an excursion in the bus hired by the school during the Onam holidays. It was then that I noticed her. She was wearing long skirts and blouse and....she had warts on her face. But I thought to myself 'my, she is quiet pretty'. A chap, one class lower used to tease me by calling me aliyan (brother-in-law) because the girl I was paired with was the younger sister of his girlfriend. Though I showed outward resentment whenever he called me his brother-in-law, actually I did not mind at all. Though his girl was better looking? - She was svelter, but I liked the sister better. Even though she was plain and reed thin, to me she was quite pretty...and I really liked her. Ohh! Folly! Folly, but then at that age the mind is not steady and your fancies shift. Had it not been for the fact that a new girl came to the school and I got infatuated with that girl, I surely would have fallen deeply for this girl...all that glitters is not gold. The fateful day I saw her I did not even dream that I would fall head over heels. It was my last year in school and I still remember that day starkly. As usual I was going for my breakfast after the morning study. The huge dull doors that lead to the dining hall will open only at 8 sharp. So having enough time to walk a few hundred yards, I ambled along slowly with my hands deep in my blazer pockets to keep it warm from the chilling cold. I mentally cussed the weather as the cold made my hands freeze. It was then I saw her suddenly. She was new here. I have never seen her before. The school was not very large in terms of the number of students so I knew almost everyone from sight and most by name. To reach my destination I had to pass by her and all of a sudden I realised that my pace had slowed down even more. I watched her closely. Definitely she was a new face - a very pretty one at that. I was so preoccupied in my thoughts that the breakfast gong jolted me out of my reverie. So deep in thought I was that I had forgotten the cold. There was a lot of pushing and shoving to get in. I too joined the fray as I was hungry. The food here is bad at the best and rotten at the worst. The night before, I had voluntarily forgone supper since I couldn't chew through the rock hard chapattis; and so my stomach was growling. Had it not been that I was hungry I would have wholeheartedly forgone the breakfast also. The sight of food had me licking my lips and all thoughts of the girl evaporated from my mind. I really become conscious of her when one of my classmates casually mentioned that he was falling in love with her. At that time I had a strange feeling - of resentment? Which I did not understand then, but later realised to be jealousy.

Black money

Saturdays were not full working days. We had classes only till afternoon. Usually on Saturdays we used to go out for picnics or do some shopping. It was not the regular shopping one would expect. For us shopping meant going on an eating spree and wandering about the park and town window shopping. We used to get four or five rupees as shopping allowance per outing. I suppose how much shopping one can actually do on that kind of money. It is usually enough for a masala dosa and a coffee. But then mostly always we had our own reserve money which we called the black money. We weren't allowed to keep money with ourselves and if found out, the money was confiscated by the teachers and it was said to be put in some servants relief fund. But actually into whose pockets it went we don't know. I would make a wild guess that most times the teachers’ pocketed it themselves. They used to conduct surprise raids - search our desks, lockers, cupboards, trunk boxes, bags and beds and what not. And my; how they searched. They did a neat job of it too. On an average after each raid they used to get more than two hundred bucks (from what the students said how much was confiscated from them after the raids). It didn't strike me then, but i think some of the guys may have exaggerated the amount confiscated. But I think they must have got a considerable amount each time. Not bad ehh?

After each holiday, when coming back to school I was always given a couple of hundred rupees as pocket money from home. That’s just small fry compared to what some of the other guys brought with them. I knew some guys who had more than a thousand bucks with them. I never lost any money to the teachers. It would have broken my heart if I had. I always kept my money well hidden. Those who got a bit careless were the ones who suffered. I remember a time in the ninth standard when there was a series of severe raids. We were in Pankajam dormitory then. A lot of people lost a lot of money then, however careful they were. The pressure was so intense and I hid my money in the bushes near the dormitory. I tied my money in a plastic sheet and tied it to a thick leafy bush. I left it that way for more than a week. I know that it was a foolish thing to do, but i couldn't bear losing the money to raids. After the raids, with trepidation I went looking for the money. All the bushes looked the same after a few days and with my heart in my mouth i searched for some time before i actually found what I was looking for. Well sometimes foolishness also pays off. I got my money intact. That series of raids nearly cleaned everybody out. Just a few lucky ones like me escaped. Our main tormentor in this case used to be Mr. Sundereshan, our maths teacher. Now thinking about it I smile, but those were nerve wracking times.

Picnics and Shopping trips

The shopping trips were pure joy to us, not because we did any actual shopping. It was just about a whole afternoon to spend as one wished. You see we used to walk to town in groups [class wise]. In town we dispersed and could go anywhere and do as we pleased. We were asked to report at a particular place at 6pm. I usually did a lot of window shopping and some eating. My first partners were Glenn and a chap called Kurien. Then afterwards it was Thomas and Raghu. And after a time Ravi too joined in. In the winter of my life at school it was Salim, Dinesh and sometimes Vinni. I was not a heavy spender, nor was I too thrifty, though I leaned towards the thrifty side. Once a month we were taken to Ooty. It was fun there. In Ooty the options were many. We went cycling, horse riding, boating and window shopping. And mostly always we went and had food at a Chinese restaurant. Usually eight or ten of us pooled together, thus we could order many dishes and share the food. Thus we could taste different types of dishes while it cost us only ten or fifteen rupees per person. It was in Ooty that the full force of our black money came into play. Picnics were sometimes the lesser evils. Some picnics we liked and others we hated. Usually thinking about the walks before us we used to baulk at going for picnics. We would have liked to stay back in school and play games. But most picnics were fun. Once we started walking the initial reluctance to walk dissipated. On picnics we went for long walks, climbing hills or going to some scenic place and simply exploring. We used to have shopping and picnics on alternate Saturdays, but the rule was never followed to the letter. It was skewed towards picnics. When we went on picnics we used to pack the evening tea with us. It usually was the duty of the class teacher and the class prefect to collect snacks and plan the route. Sometimes the programs were decided on the spur of the moment. We decided to go to a place by majority approval. This was decided just before we started out or otherwise it was decided and planned out before hand. Once when I was in the seventh standard, the then 9th standard went on a trekking tour from Kotagiri to Mysore. I remember Mrs. Bright making us pray each day for their safe return. At that time I was disgusted with her thinking what's there to worry about a trekking trip.... oh! these stupid adults. It was a big event for the whole school and everyone was agog with excitement. Each day we received news about the progress of the trek. It took them three days to reach Mysore and when Mr. Henry their class teacher called from Mysore to say that they had completed the venture, there was a great celebration in school. When they returned from Mysore they were greeted like heroes. If ever there was a class that was almost as good as our class, it was this class. Only thing that they were better than us was on the stage (dramas, debates and elocution and singing). The one drawback that our class had was that almost all of us were stage shy. When we were in the 9th standard we too went on a trekking trip from Kotagiri to Coonoor - a distance of about 18 kms. We started in the morning after breakfast and reached our destination by evening. Though we were dead tired when we came back, it was great fun - cutting through the hills and valleys. The next day most of found it very difficult to walk. We didn't know that we could have so many aches all at the same time.

We used to go to all the unlikely places. I remember, once we climbed a remote and uninhabited hillock and planted a flag on top of it. The feeling and sense of exploring were great. For us it was like climbing the Everest, then. The picnics were so many, separating them is impossible. It is like a happily blurred painting with colours running all over. When we went picnicking we used to do things stupid, which under normal circumstances we would never even contemplate, like jumping over wide streams, climbing up dangerous and steep slopes, walking over wet and slippery rocks. Actually, I think most of us did it to show off - to the girls who were with us. Once in the 8th standard I climbed up a mean looking slope along with some others. I was leading the way up and almost at the top I stopped to wave back at the chaps’ below and lost my footing and fell down. It was fortunate that no bones were broken, though I was scratched up some and stunned a little. I had been trying to show off. Of course I got the attention I craved for from the others including the girls who fussed over. But it was all pity and I was embarrassed for looking a fool.

On Sundays we were free and had nothing to do. Sundays, we wash our clothes. That is those who are reluctant to give their clothes to the dhobi. All of us definitely wash our underwear and socks. Most of the guys’ socks were only fit to be thrown away. They were so caked with dirt and oh; so smelly ....including mine. Hold your breath till you had the socks fully immersed in the soapy water; otherwise you are going to swoon. And by the time you finish up your hands are so frigging cold. That's one chore I hate doing. When we were in the Pankajam, after the washings are done up we used to fly paper planes. There is a big lawn in front of the dormitory, beyond which is a steep slope. We used to fly paper planes from the edge of the slope and see whose flew the longest. Thomas Kurien set the record which nobody broke. Once after every one had gone for their bath after the paper plane flying session, I tried just once more. It flew beautifully. I stood fascinated. It went past Thomas's record setting mark, but alas nobody was there to see it, so Thomas's record stood.

Swimming lessons

I remember, once when we were in the 8th standard we went swimming. It was a Saturday and we were on a picnic. As we were walking along the steam in the woods we came across a big deep pool. It was so inviting we decided to swim in it. I was born and brought up in the backwaters of Alleppey, so I took to swimming like duck to water. It was then my class mates realised that I was the best swimmer among the lot. That day I held the lime light and a bonus factor was that I was the only one who knew how to dive smoothly and cleanly. I was and felt like a celebrity. Well within an year they almost caught up with me. Until George came along I was the strongest swimmer in the class.

Once on a school tour we had stopped by at Ravi's place. We had lunch there. We all sat on the floor and lunch was served on banana leaves and it was delicious. Before the lunch many of us had a swim in a big deep pond there. One of the drawbacks of being the best swimmer in the class is that I have to be the first one to jump in, in unfamiliar waters. I was never force to do so, but my pride wouldn't let me pull back even when I am afraid deep inside. I was the first one in and the others followed. When I had reached the middle of the pond I felt someone tug at my legs. I turned around and saw that it was Annamalai. He was petrified and had stopped swimming and was clutching at my legs. I was terrified and in desperation kicked out. My legs struck flesh and somehow Annamalai lost his hold on me. I swam desperately for the shore. Some of the servants standing near the edge of the pond dived in and rescued Annamalai. I was ashamed that I was not brave enough to try to save Annamalai. Later when I asked him why he had stopped swimming and clutched my legs, he replied that only when he reached the middle of the pond he remembered what Ravi had said earlier - that the pond was more than thirty feet deep. The thought froze him up and he couldn't swim. Once when we were in the tenth standard we went on a one day trip to a place near Mettupalayam. There was a dam there. And below the dam, downstream we went swimming. Mr. Bell was with us. We were all excited and swam to the middle of the river. There were women on the opposite bank. They were shouting something which was lost in the wind. There was a strong undercurrent and we realised it almost too late. Those on the bank stood horrified. All of us turned back in a hurry. From the bank the water had seemed still, but turning back I saw the bank rushing away. The undercurrent was very strong. Terrified I swam desperately for the shore. When we swam out, George was leading - he was the strongest swimmer amongst us, even though I was the best. I was close behind him. Thomas, followed by Mr. Bell and others were behind us. On turning back the order was reversed. George and I were the ones far out. George was the last. All of us were desperately trying to make it to the shore. Looking up I could see the shore rushing away, that strong was the undercurrent. I put my head down and swam even harder. It was each to his own. Suddenly I could hear George calling out to me. I glanced around quickly. George was floundering and was calling out to me for help. I went cold all over with fear. I badly wanted to help him but i was too terrified. It rushed through my mind, George outweighed me by a good bit and it was very deep and the current too strong. And last but not the least, I was afraid...very afraid. The shore was slipping by too fast and with a last desperate bit of strength i lunged forward and got myself safe between two rocks. I called out to Mr. Bell who was swimming in front of me and he must have heard the desperation in my voice. I was too out of breath to speak, but I was pointing towards George in desperate animation. George had given up all hope and he was drowning....bobbing up and down and drifting away quickly. George was a good swimmer; I feel a better one than me. But he had suddenly lost his nerve and had given up all effort to make it to shore. Mr. Bell swam after George and got hold of him. Even Mr. Bell had a tough time saving George. In his desperation, George got his arms around Mr. Bell's neck and clung on to him like a leach. Mr. Bell was being choked and only his superior strength saved both of them. Soon after that Ramesh cut his knee on a sharp riverbed stone and was bleeding profusely. Mr. Bell ordered us all out of the water. By the grace of God a great tragedy was averted. But I was ashamed of myself. I should have gone after George, but I was afraid. Was it cowardice? Of course, but if I had gone to save him both of us would have gone under. To justify myself I'll say that it was prudence. Well then cowardice is almost always prudence - isn't it? Whenever I look back at this incident I find it difficult to face myself. We all despised Mr. Bell, but it was he who had the courage to rescue George. I respect Mr. Bell.

Off on a tangent

I had a special talent. Oh! It was nothing great....I used to play the fool and irritate everybody around me, right from the kids to the seniors. I think this trait was inherent. Even as a small kid I was naughty this way. Once when I was in the first standard in Loyola, Trivandrum, I remember how Thomas Mathew and I used to spank the ears of a kid in the KG class, just because we didn't like the shape of his ears. I stood out like some cauliflower leaves. So when nobody was looking we used to go and pull his ears just to hear him bawling. It gave us sadistic satisfaction. Now I feel sorry for the poor thing. But in the long run I got paid back in full. I used to get beat up occasionally, but most times I got away because I was exceptionally agile and strong for my size. Once I irritated Pradeesh so much, even though he was afraid of me, he without thinking punched me in the face. I could see the horror on his face. He expected me to bash him up. But I was horrified by the amount of blood seeping from my nose. Every time I blew my nose blobs of blood gushed out. I remember somebody saying don’t blow your nose. Pradeesh and James helped me wash my nose and face in cold water to stop it bleeding. Luckily my nose wasn't broken.

Class prefect

In the seventh standard I used to help Ajith Chandran then class prefect, in his duties. It involved mainly in carrying the books to the staff room, changing the date and the number of students present on the black board. Arranging for picnics and minding the class. In the eighth standard I was selected class prefect. Nobody wanted to run for the post. Mrs. Bright asked me to stand and it was a foregone conclusion that I will be the class prefect. I was strict and did my duties well and the teachers were pleased with me. What I did not like about being a class prefect was that from the eighth standard onwards the dramatics was changed from house wise to class wise. Previously it was the house captain's duty to do the dramas on Sundays' once a month. Now that duty fell on my shoulders. As I had said earlier our class was stage shy and it was difficult to get the boys to act. I had to get the help of the class teacher to force the guys to act. Selecting plays were tedious, but I had help from Mr. Jacobs. Even more difficult was getting the guys to act. The first play was about the one legged stroke. And I had to take the major part- the landlord. The next day Edith said that it was very good and that she didn't realise that I could act that well. She also said that the cooked chicken leg looked almost real. I smiled, it was brown paper rolled on a stick. The next thing that I didn't like about being a class prefect was that you lose your friends if you try to do justice to your job. I was impartial and pulled up even Shafeeq during study times. He was wary of me. A few months after becoming the prefect, while minding the class during the first study, one of the minister's came and created havoc in the class room. He berated me, over rode me and punished one of my class mates for what reason I don't know. All of us were angry and I was seething. Shajin knowing my weakness exploited it. He knew that I loved reading story books. Before I became the prefect I used to read story books on the sly during study periods. But after becoming prefect, I was perfect in everything and strictly avoided story books during study time. Shajin came to me and encouraged me to read the story book as a protest against the minister's outrage. I faltered and succumbed. Later this incident became a stone around my neck. It compromised my work as a prefect. Shajin always made trouble [Deep in my heart I believe Shafeeq was the one who goaded Shajin to create trouble]. I was very strict and punished Shajin often. After this incident whenever I tried to admonish Shajin he threatened to question me during the question hour of the Cabinet which was held once every month. Thus life became hell for me as a prefect. I couldn't control Shajin and the rest of his gang. The joy of being a prefect went out of me. From this incident I learned a valuable lesson. In later life I never compromised. If I did anything wrong which could not be brushed under the carpet, I boldly owned up and took my medicine. Responsibility involves sacrifice - of one’s pleasures.

Cabinet

The system of controlling, in KPS was excellent. Discipline was enforced by the cabinet members. The cabinet consisted of the President at the top, followed by the Prime minister, Speaker, Health minister, and Games minister and so on. The lowest rung was made up of class prefects. The members were all students. The teachers intervened only when the cabinet members couldn't control the students or if anything really serious happened. The Cabinet held a meeting once every week. It was presided either by the principal Mr. Bright or Mrs. Bright. Once every month there was a question hour conducted in the assembly hall, during which time the students can ask for explanations from the cabinet members for their actions. The Cabinet members especially the ministers had a lot of privileges. The most privileged was the Health minister. He had the full lay of the dining room. Thus he also had the best of the food.

Food

The food in school is some of the worst anywhere around. I have often missed meals for it was an ordeal swallowing the tasteless fare dished out. Once I had gone a full day and a half without food for I couldn't bring myself to eat the rot. But in the end hunger drove me back to the dining room. Sometimes we used to get good food, that too very rarely. Cleanliness was thrown out of the window. Many a time the food was spiced with hairs and cockroaches. Every time that we complain, the principal would reassure us that the matter will be looked into, but invariably nothing happened. I remember Mrs. Bright once replying, "Let us be thankful that the good Lord gave us at least this. There are millions out there that don't get a square meal a day". Out of her hearing we would cuss her good and proper. When I was in the tenth, once a week we received very good food. On Sunday evenings everyone has to dress in suits and go for supper. The supper was gourmet stuff. This practice was started that year. Mostly all the other meals are forgettable. The iddlies are hard enough to be used as stones for throwing. The chapattis are leather tough and by the time you get through two of them your jaws are aching. The sambar is so watery that you have to dive in and search to find to find any solid pieces. The brinjal curry looks like chicken shit. The chutney is tasteless and looks like puke. The rice was full of stones and you had to be careful (like walking through a mine field) otherwise you might chip your teeth. By the taste one cannot say with confidence whether it was tea or coffee. Anyway the only saving grace was that it was hot. You will have to admire Vinod and Pankaj Kikkani. Once on a bet they ate more than fifty iddlies each. I forget who won the contest. I watched in awe the way they stuffed the tasteless stuff in. One good thing that we got daily was the morning bun. Even that did not escape criticism as sometimes there were baked cockroaches or very rarely small lizards in it. We were not too finicky over it. We carefully removed them and ate the buns. Before the introduction of the bun, getting up early in the morning for P.T was a tedious affair. But after the buns and the hot tasteless tea came into the equation, getting up and going through the morning P.T was a breeze. We used to make the bun last a long time by taking small bites and chewing slowly. By the time the holidays began we are as thin as reeds – at least most of us are.

Power structures

Shafeeq was the boss of the class. He had a lot of followers. Shafeeq did not receive any opposition to his leadership until we were in the 9th standard. With the arrival of George in the 9th standard there were two power centres. Up until then even though there were small groupings there was no questioning the absolute power wielded by Shafeeq. George never opposed Shafeeq, but was also not afraid to disagree with him. Trouble brewed up when Shajin accused George of stealing money from some of the student. We weren't allowed to keep pocket money with us but all of us had some money with us. The class unity cracked down the middle for the first time as George too received a lot of support. Even though there were resentments against Shafeeq in the past they were very few and weak. Now these people sensing a strong character in George rallied behind him and there was actually a cold war on. There was no actual fighting but the tension was very palpable. In time the rift healed but now there were two power centres co-existing.

In the eighth standard I became close with two of my class mates, namely Raghu and Thomas. In time they became my best friends. Thomas was accepted as the leader of the threesome. We had a very good time together. Later on Ravi joined us and we became a foursome. Ravi slowly influenced Thomas and as time passed, I was slowly eased out of the group. Ravi cunningly excluded me from all their activities. I felt that I was being pushed out but still stayed on. Raghu sympathised with me. One day Raghu told me that the previous night they had bought some food stuff from Bunkisthan and the three of them shared it. When Raghu mentioned about giving me some, Ravi objected to it. That was the last straw, on hearing it; I decided to leave the group. I was really hurt and hated Ravi for it. Ravi was actually from Shafeeq's gang. He had joined us when Shafeeq had thrown him out of their gang.

After I left Thomas's group I did not have any close friends for a time. I spend more time with the chaps from the lower class like Christopher Francis, James Cohelo and Pradeesh. Then I hung about with Vinni and Franklin. In the tenth standard an Iranian, Salim Patel joined our school. I did not pay him much heed until Vinni told me that Salim was a yellow belt in Karate. I was very interested in Martial arts from a very young age. So I slowly struck up a friendship with him. Very soon we became inseparable. He was a good talker and I was a good listener. He regaled me with the wonders of Iran and Shah, and Teheran in particular. I was impressed by his tales of Iran. The incredulity must have shown in my eyes, for he told me that he wouldn’t be upset if I did not believe him. But I believed him fully even when he insisted that all he said might not be true..

Towards the latter half of my last year in school Salim, Dinesh and I were very close friends. Vinni was a loner but he was friendlier with us. Another loose grouping was Franklin, Danesh, Jalal and Annamalai. George and Anto were partners. They later joined Shafeeq's group which consisted of Shajin, Gopal, Ramesh, Abe, Thomas, Ravi and Raghu. Mandi and Bala were their lackeys. Though our class had so many groups which pulled and pushed in different directions, on common issues we remained united. Even with all the diverse interest, characters and the quarrels; we stood together when it mattered the most. Even the seniors did not dare tangle with us. When some of us did mischief, the rest of us never snitched and so when we were found out the punishments were collective. The best part was that we never resented the ones who got us into such miserable plights. I remember some of the naughtiest elements from the class below us (Warwin, Mathew Thomas, Abdul Salam...) admired us for this unique unity and camaraderie and used to hang around us whenever they could. You would not have found a naughtier bunch in school. Maybe counting me out most other chaps was too hot to handle. Even gentle Frank was belligerent in his irascible mood. The teachers had a tough time enforcing discipline. On hindsight I believe they were secretly terrified of us. Mind you whatever mischief we got into was clean fun, nothing serious or ugly.

My bug bear

In life most people have at least one secret fear that is insurmountable. In school life my bête noire was Ravi. I found pleasure in irritating people and because of that I got involved in many scuffles. Most of which I lost because in the first place I was the cause of the trouble and so my conscience did not let me go all out and also because it was guys stronger than me who reacted more violently. One incident I remember is the fight I had with Ravi. It started over an innocuous incident. While we were going for breakfast I threw a pebble at Abe who was walking ahead of me. I saw it miss him and fall harmlessly away. Ravi who was walking beside Abe said that the stone hit him. I have been avoiding Ravi ever since he pushed me out of Thomas's group. I told Ravi that the pebble had missed, but he was spoiling for a fight and insisted that the pebble hit him. Ravi was built like a tank and so much stronger than me, but my pride wouldn't let me back away. Ravi caught hold of me and pushed me against the building. A scuffle ensured and in the melee' my head hit the wall and it hurt. I also lost a few shirt buttons and had a shiner on the back of my head. Meanwhile others pulled us apart; otherwise I would have come a cropper. I dreaded him throughout my school life.

The big divide

There was one incident that disrupted the unity of the class right down the middle at the fag end of our school life. All the portions were covered by the second term so during the third term it was one model exam after the other with holidays in between each set of exams. So during the holidays when we were supposed to study we were listening to music and other activities. It all began over a cassette player. It was with Frank, in our room and it was the last term. Salim and I were his roommates as also were Jalal and Dinesh. Shafeeq's group wanted the cassette player and had asked for it temporarily. But our roommates decided not to give it to them as we knew that once they have possession of it we are never going to get it back. So when we went to sleep it was locked in Dinesh's box and the key was with me. One night Thomas and Ravi came and asked Dinesh for the player. He said that the key was with me and I was fast asleep. They woke me up, but I pretended to be fast asleep and rolled over as if in sleep and kept my eyes closed. After everybody had gone to sleep, they broke open the box and took the cassette player. On opening the box in the morning Dinesh found the player missing. He found the player in the other room and brought it back. There was an unpleasant exchange of words. The cassette player actually belonged to Pradeesh a student on the 9th standard. Shafeeq's group went and asked Pradeesh for the player. He told them that they could have it. They came and took it unceremoniously from us. By then us three had merged with Franklin's group. Dinesh told Pradeesh that it was unfair of him to let Shafeeq take the cassette player from us as he had promised us its use till the exams were over. Dinesh called Ravi and Thomas thieves. Somehow word of this reached Shafeeq's ears. Salim, Frank, Dinesh and I were discussing as what to do next, when Shajin came and said that they wanted to speak with Dinesh. We told him that if they wanted to talk to him, come and do so in our room. Shajin went away displeased. At that time Danesh, Vinni and Jalal who sided with us weren't there. A little later Dinesh went outside to wash his clothes. George, Ravi and Shafeeq caught hold of him and started questioning him. On hearing the commotion Salim and I went to investigate. He and I were helpless as they were ten in number. Ravi and Shafeeq slapped Dinesh many times. I expected Salim to do something and I was ready to follow him whatever, but he stood there a spectator. Salim, I feel was afraid as he stood there doing nothing. And he was my hero...him being a yellow belt in Karate and all. I too was very afraid, but I plucked enough courage to tell Shafeeq to stop slapping Dinesh. They just pushed me away and told me to keep away and mind my own business if I didn't want the same treatment. The little courage I mustered too deserted me. I stood there doing nothing and very afraid. Mrs. Raj was our matron and her husband Mr, Raj on hearing the commotion outside came to investigate what it was. That was what saved Dinesh from further humiliation. I was very upset after this incident and even though Dinesh was afraid to complain, I took with him to see Mr. Bright and give a complaint. Jalal when he came to know about the incident, went to Pradeesh and bought the cassette player off him for Rs.800/-. We then went and took the payer from Shafeeq's room. They could only sulk and watch while we gloated; that really made them look stupid. Worse was to follow. That night as we were having supper, Mr. Bright came in to the dining room, which he rarely does and everybody noticed as he came over to the table where Shafeeq, Ravi, Shajin, Gopal and were sitting. He warned them that if they wanted to write their Board exams they ought to behave themselves. He went around and gave similar warnings to others also. There was a hush in the dining room which became a buzz soon after Mr. Bright left. George and Anto should have sided with us because we supported them when they were accused of stealing money and also a certain other incident (cock catching). Instead of supporting us, at least they could have stayed neutral, but they joined Shafeeq and turned against us. We felt betrayed.

Kuthi...

How did Dinesh come to be known as Kutthi? One day soon after classes he rushed to the dorm as his stomach was giving him the rumbles. He wanted to go to the toilet. The dormitory was locked from inside and in desperation he shouted to the servant boy, Kutty Krishnan, to open up the door in Malayalam. When he gets excited his lisp gets more pronounced, "Kutthi Kishna - kathaku ththakooo...." From that day onwards the name 'Kutthi Kishna' stuck on him.

Embarrassments

In the 9th standard I did not go for the Onam holidays for which we got about a week as holidays. Most every day we went out hiking or on excursion. On one of these days we went to Connoor and visited Sims Park. We were given Rs 4/- to spend. George, Anto and I went to a hotel; Blue Hills. We had parattas and green peas. When the bill came it was Rs15/- and collectively we only had Rs.12/- with us. We were shocked and did not know what to do, since all of us had spent our black money earlier. As we were sitting there wondering what to do, providence it was that two girls (class mates) came in and we borrowed money from them and settled the bill. It really was embarrassing.

The previous day we had gone to Ooty. There we had gone to a Chinese restaurant and had a good time. After that we went cycling. Mr. Raja one of the staff members was also with us. Dinesh was a novice in cycling and he did not have great control. The first incident was when a bus passed by, Dinesh became wobbly and crashed into George and both of them fell in a heap. It was hilarious as no one was badly scraped. The next unforgettable incident happened near the bus stand. Dinesh was coming down the slope very fast and he did not use the brakes to slow down. Dinesh lost control and crashed into an old man who was carrying a basket full of bread loaves and slowly walking by. The basket flew from his head and the loaves were scattered all around. Dinesh and the old man were all tangled up. We all stopped and gaped apprehensively. Luckily the old man was not hurt, only badly shaken. Dinesh, he was not hurt at all as he fell on top of the old man. The old man got up, trembling with rage and shouting something in Tamil, he slapped Dinesh twice before Mr. Raja could intervene and settle the matter with a fiver. The cycle handle was bent and Mr. Raja later had to pay for that too at the cycle shop. After that incident nobody was brave enough to let Dinesh ride again so he rode double. Then we went boating.

That brings another incident to mind. I was in the seventh standard and that was my first outing on the Ooty Lake. Glenn and I had taken a pedal boat. Unknowingly we drifted too far out and got caught in the current. We were drifting towards the danger area. We both pedalled furiously but we were not making much head way with the wind also against us. Some of the other boaters were watching in horror. Slowly we inched our way out of the current. Both Glenn and I were dead tired, we couldn't feel our legs for a while. Later we got scolded good and proper.

The wind breaker

George was one of the best practical joker in the whole school. Sometimes he does the oddest things. Once for the Monday morning assembly he came dressed in a white shirt and white dhoti (Kerala style). He explained that it was Kerala day. Mr. Bright had apoplexy on seeing George dressed thus. He ran to George and thrashed him, then ordered him to come in proper uniform. Another time I remember George standing in front of the classroom facing the black board and farting. He then bend over and fanned the rotten egg gas towards us. He could break wind at will. He could send either those loud thunder balls or the silent smelly killers. And he used to get on Vinni's nerves especially. Vinni and he used to sit side by side. He used to break wind and blame it on Vinni. It was a sight to see Vinni's long face. Vinni, irritated, grumbled that it was not he and that it was George. So George used to put a small piece of paper behind his butt and another behind Vinni's bottom to find the culprit. When Vinni was concentrating on the lecture by the teacher, George used to push the paper from Vinni's behind on to the floor, then send one of those silent killers and blame Vinni, "see, see the paper has been blown away". Well, you should see the consternation on Vinni's face. It compensated the bad smell we had to endure.

Mr. Raj

Mr. Raj, the bursar is one of the most hilarious characters. The best part is that he manages to be comical the more he tries to be firm and serious. I can't do justice to his humour in words. Mrs. Raj was the matron, but she was totally out of her depths with our class. It was only with Mr. Raj's help that she maintained a semblance of discipline. I remember Sweetie and Sudheer. It was the first time we were in Pankajam (8th standard). Sudheer was very mischievous. He was so hyper active that he got in trouble constantly. Even when he got beaten up, he was still smiling. Nothing and no amount of punishments could wipe that smile off his face. Now I can imagine how frustrated the teachers must have been. Mr. Raj used to cane him for his misdemeanours. Sudheer used to get even by luring his daughter Sweetie, a toddler then, with promises of sweets. He then made her lie on the bed face down and used to spank her on the buttocks. The baby used to cry and go to the mother, Mrs. Raj, who also was in tears then. Mr. Raj in a fit of rage would come shouting, "Who beat my daughter; who beat my daughter". Sudheer would have scooted by then and Sweetie being only a toddler couldn't identify from the rest of us lined up for identification.

Mr. Raj had a funny way of speaking English. The rules of grammar were thrown to the winds. Maybe he thought in Tamil and literally translated it to English. And his accent was atrocious. It was Mr. Raj who woke us up in the morning at six. Once when he came to wake us up, he himself was half asleep and going to each room was saying, "teeth your brush" - instead of brush your teeth. Well there are innumerable occasions when he comes up with such gems. I wish I had written them all down then, because I can't remember them, but they are so tantalisingly on the fringes of my memory.

Mr. Raj used to switch on the lights and leave them on when he came to wake us up. George was a late riser and he did not like the lights shining on his face. So one day he removed the switch cover. Mr. Raj as usual came early in the morning to wake us up. Grouping in the dark for the light switch he must have got a bad electric shock. He yelped out loud. He was fit to be tied and flogged. We had our laugh but the repercussions were soon to follow. We had another week of punishments as nobody owned up to the mischief. Thanks to George; wake up time was five in the morning.

Mr. Bell

Mr. Bell was another character in the same mould as Mr. Raj, only more vicious. He was our Biology teacher and in the tenth he was our class teacher and also the warden in Pankajam annexe. Mr. Bell was very obsequious around Mr and Mrs Bright. If Mr. Bright said jump once, he would jump twice. But with us he acted the big shot and he bellowed like a bull. That’s why; maybe he was also called Mr. Bull behind his back. His English was as atrocious as Mr. Raj's, but Mr. Raj was a non teaching staff. So Mr. Bell's gaffes were more widely ridiculed. Once a few Danes came to the school and the welcome speech was supposed to be delivered by Mr. Richard, the English teacher. Somehow Mr. Richard was indisposed and Mr. Bell gave the speech. He started off well. "..........we are happy to welcome these people from Danish...". He realised his mistake too late. He should have used Denmark. Maybe that played on his mind and his speech was peppered with grammatical errors. He became the laughing stock of the school for a few days. But then he has a thick skin and nothing seems to matter to him. Not only was his English poor but his pronunciation was equally bad. In front of him guys like Shajin and George used to mimic just like him, making the same errors and pronunciation. It must have frustrated him too much. Any way he did not like our class collectively and used every ounce of his energy to get us punished for something or the other. Always snitching like a cry baby to Mr. Bright every little mischief we did.

When I was in the tenth standard we got the district championship for basketball. Mr. Bright declared the next day a holiday and allowed the team members an outing to Ooty. Salim, Dinesh and Vinni who weren't in the team wanted to come as half the class was the school team. They got permission from Mr. Bright. All of us had a good time in Ooty. Franklin and his gang complained to Mr. Bell about them as they were jealous that they couldn't go to Ooty. Mr. Bell was our class teacher and also the warden. He had a grudge against Salim, I guess because , once in the class Salim had deliberately asked Mr. Bell a question related to the subject he was teaching but was out of syllabus for us. Mr. Bell did not realise that it was out of syllabus and he also did not know the answer. The more he tried to explain, the more confused he became and his pride was hurt as the others were sniggering and he thought he looked foolish. Mr. Bell was vindictive and I believe he was waiting for a chance to get at Salim. Dinesh it seemed had asked Mr. Bell for the permission, which he denied to give. Only after that they got permission from Mr. Bright. I don't know what transpired between Mr. Bright and Mr. Bell, but whatever it was as soon as we had returned from Ooty Mr. Bell rounded up the three and caned them. He saved the worst for the last. He cained Salim very badly and I was silently crying for him. Deep inside; I was happy when Salim at the end of his tether retaliated. He grabbed the cane from Mr. Bell, broke it and threw it at Mr. Bell and shouted angrily at him. He then ran out of the dormitory. It was a good day that turned a nightmare.

Shafeeq learns Basketball

We were in the seventh standard and Mr. Bright was coaching us in Basketball. He was once a member of the State Basket ball team. He threw the ball to Shafeeq. The ball slipped through his fingers. Mr. Bright threw the ball to him again, this time harder. Shafeeq failed to latch on to it. Mr. Bright was angry, he shouted, "catch it you butter fingers" and threw it harder. The result was the same. He roared loudly, "You butter fingers and threw the ball with all his might. Shafeeq was red as a beetroot, but somehow he held on to the ball with his life.

Punishments

From the 9th standard onwards the punishments were a regular part of our scholastic life. Since our class rarely snitched no one was spared. There were so many collective punishments, some of the punishments I do not know for what even. Before one could heave a sigh of relief that one punishment was over, the next one was upon us. It was hard at first, but with time and experience it became bearable. The harder the punishments the tougher we became. They couldn't break our spirits however hard they tried. The day before the final board exam somebody broke the glass window panes of the main school building. It was pinned on us. The last thing the principal said to our class was, "You are the worst class I ever had. All of you will pack and leave within the hour of the exam being over. I don't want to see your faces ever". The feelings I believe were reciprocated then.

The punishments were harsh and brutal. We were treated almost like slaves. Poor parents...if only they could have seen the plight of their children. They too would have had sleepless nights. Surely Mr. Bright ought to be flogged. Once Mathew Thomas, a stout happy go lucky type of guy was late for the evening roll call. He must have been a bee in Mr. Kanakaraj's bonnet. Whatever the reason, it was horrible seeing Konax kick and punch Mathew. It was cruel.

It happened when I was in the 9th standard. Thomas Gomez of the 10th standard had bullied Edwin. The punishment was sickening. Mr. Bright put him in the boxing ring, with David, the biggest guy in school then. And David knew some boxing. I remember Mr. Bright telling Gomez, "So you want to fight; well fight all you want". It was not a contest; it was annihilation. The poor fellow, Thomas Gomez was badly beaten by David. And when it was over he was bleeding from the mouth and nose and his eyes were swollen closed. He was black and blue all over. There was a hushed silence all over. If I had the courage and strength I would have gladly pulverised David and Mr. Bright. I was angry and frustrated. So must have the whole school been. For I later heard that there was almost a fist cuff between David and Sukumaran over it.

It was soon after I joined school in the seventh. I remember Anand who was studying in the 9th standard. It was a Monday and Anand blew the bugle during the assembly. Mid way through his piece he fainted. Mr. Bright rushed and scooped him up from the ground. Suddenly Anand jumped up and shouted "April Fool". It was the first of April. Mr. Bright was angry and slapped him hard. Anand threw the bugle down with all his might. If the bugle is still in school you may see the dent on it.

During the end of that year for the farewell party for the 10th standard on the lawns in front of the school building all of us were having tea. I don’t know what Navid said or did. Whatever it was Mr. Bright suddenly got angry and became violent. Mr. Bright hit and kicked Navid brutally. Navid only covered his face with both hands and moved away. But Mr. Bright followed him and beat him badly. When Navid fell down Mr. Bright kicked him many times. We were all shocked. Later Navid was confined to the dormitory and was never let out. He must have been dismissed as he left the school a few days later.

Once Warwin was caught kissing a girl and the punishment was cold and heinous. Everyone from the seventh standard upwards was asked to assemble in the assembly hall. Warwin was brought on to the stage. He was stripped to his under wear. Mr. Bright had him bent over the table tennis board and caned him mercilessly. How many times I lost count. At least two sticks were expended. Mr. Bright was panting heavily when he finished cainings. The beating was brutal, but it was the coldness of it that affected me badly...in front of the whole school. Many of the girls were in tears after the cainings; also some of the boys.

When we were in the 9th standard Ramesh was caught smoking. He was taken to the principal’s office and beaten thoroughly to find out who all smoked. In the end he divulged eight names. Actually, except for Franklin and me everybody else smoked cigarettes. During the evening study Mr. Bright came and called out the names. He brought with him a whole set of canes; like a golfer who comes with a whole range of golf clubs. He stripped them and cained them mercilessly. Shajin as usual was in the list. Even before Mr. Bright brought down the cane Shajin was shrieking in pretended pain. Mr. Bright held the lifted cane still. Only after Shajin had finished shrieking did the cane swish down. Then Shajin screamed in real pain. Shafeeq who usually escapes such beatings even though he was the schemer in almost all the mischiefs was on the list. He took his cainings almost stoically. Dinesh was afraid of the punishments but that did not deter him from being involved; and was invariably there. When Mr. Bright asked him to strip; he was so frightened that when he pulled down his pants, he inadvertently pulled down his under pants too. He had his pale bottoms cained red. George too got caned. He got the most beatings because he did not let a sound out at all during the cainings. I think Mr. Bright was frustrated that George did not cry and broke two canes on him. When he finished he was panting like an exhausted dog. In between breaths he asked George, "Does it hurt Sir"? George hurting badly muttered through clenched teeth, "Yes, sir". Then Mr. Bright dramatically thumping his chest declared, "It hurts me here". As soon as Mr. Bright exited the class room people were jumping up and down and laughing and even dancing. Shajin was doing a jig and moving towards the door when the door suddenly opened in his face and the duty teacher stared in surprise. He said, "Will you guys never learn"? That was not the end. Mr. Bright had then punished the whole class for not coming out and telling him who all smoked. Collective punishment started early next morning. It went on for a whole week.

Early in the morning at 4am, Mr. Kanakaraj woke us up. It was bitingly cold and we had to get into games dress in five minutes flat. Those who exceeded the time limit were beaten up. He then made us run to Kotagiri town; a distance of about three kms. We had to run fast and were tired by the time we reached the town. Mr. Kanakaraj came last and he had a stick in his hand with which he kept up a continuous rhythm on the back side of the person running last. Franklin runs out of stamina first and after the first kilometre he lags behind for the rest of the distance. So he got hit the most. Maybe it was no fun for Konax, beating up only Franklin; so he used to run up and down and beat the second last and the third last guys also. During the start of the run it is so cold that we shiver. By the time we reach the town we no longer feel the cold. There we are made to do a whole lot of tough exercises; like frog jump, duck walk, chair sitting and so on. Konax must have been a bit sadistic because I think he enjoyed what he was doing. Nearly half the students were in tears. Some days there is a drizzle and that made us even more miserable.

Once while we were doing duck walk in the town square; I was exhausted and in tears, so was Danesh duck walking in front of me. I could see that he was crying by the way he wiped his eyes and blew his nose. But we could never stop and catch our breath for the hawk eyed Konax would swoop down with the cane almost immediately. Suddenly George who was duck walking in front of Danesh started farting – a series of short loud farts with each step he took. Those who were crying couldn’t stop giggling. Even Konax couldn’t stifle the smile on his face. We provided a spectacle for the town folks who gathered in large numbers to watch us with steaming hot tea cups in their hands and blankets over their shoulders. Their heads covered with monkey caps or turbans.

By the time we returned to school at 8 ‘O’ clock we are still shivering – not due to the cold but due to exhaustion. I sometimes fervently wished that I was in some other class but definitely not this. That was what they meant to do – break our spirits. To an extent they almost did; the meeker ones like me did break down but then the others were always there supporting and comforting us. One thing that these continuous punishments did was make us tougher and harder. One single punishment used to extent for a week and more. From the 9th standard onwards we had punishments at least once a month. And the least was three days on the trot. Sometimes as punishments we had to carry bricks and sand to some hill for some servant’s house. Sometimes we had to help clear the new play ground. They made us do all types of hard labour in the name of punishments.

I was a book worm. Even during the games time, if I could I would find some secret corner and read story books. Once I was caught red handed by Konax and he gave me a thrashing and had me pull the ground roller for two days straight during the games time. I had to pull the roller on the basket ball ground. It was very heavy and back breaking for me to pull it alone; it moved very little. It was like trying to make the dragon fly pick a heavy pebble. Another time during the roll call for the games a story book that I had carried in the waist band of my shorts fell out in front of the Games minister, Kaliappan. He confiscated the book which belonged to Prem and made me do chair sitting as punishment. I think Prem got back the book, but he never lend me any more of his books.

The Pig fight

When I was in the seventh standard we went for a tour from the school to Kutralam. All the students from the seventh standard up went on the tour. We stayed in an old palace there. The one incident I still remember vividly is the villagers chasing us. It was all started by Sudheer and Ram Prasad. They threw stones at the pigs feeding at the far end of the property. The pigs ran into the village. It must have riled the locals. A little later the villagers came with long sticks. We the 7th standard kids being the smallest had no false pride and we took to our heels first and in earnest. Thus we escaped getting beaten. The senior students were slow on their feet initially. They stayed to show some bravery and some of them got beaten. Soon they were overtaking us. All of us ran back to the palace. I still remember Navid. We had reached the palace and were watching. Navid was big and strong and he knew some martial arts...and he was fearless. He was bringing up the rear. Even while he was running, he would take time to hit the villagers who caught up with him. Every time he hit somebody fell down. Then disaster struck; Mr. Hubert Singh who was running just in front of Navid lost his footing and fell down. I will always remember the bravery Navid showed. It warmed the cockles of my heart. Navid stopped; turned around and launched into the villagers who had surrounded Mr. Hubert Singh. He jumped and caught hold of a low branch of a tree. Hanging in the air he kicked out at them. The flurries of kicks send the villagers flying like nine pins. WOW!!! How he fought; though he got hit, but he gave as good as he got. Meanwhile the staff of the palace came and intervened. We were confined to the palace for the rest of the day. In the evening Mr. Bright came in a car. The next morning we packed. Our tour was cut short.

First successful escape from School

There was this chap, Joseph; who joined the school in the 10th standard. Maybe he did not integrate well in the school; whatever it was, he was with us for two months before he ran away. George was the closest to him the time he was with us. We were in the Pankajam annexe then. We are supposed to sleep by 9 pm. Mr. Bell; also our warden then locks the door and keeps the key with him. Previously the doors only used to be latched from the inside and not padlocked. Maybe it was because we had a reputation for bunking at night. The doors are only unlocked the next morning. After everyone had gone to sleep, George and Joseph put George’s guitar in this chaps bed and covered it with a blanket; so that when Mr. Bell does his rounds in the night as he sometimes does he will find nothing amiss. George let him out through the window, then shut and latched the window. It was very cold outside and so Joseph had taken a counterpane with him. In the morning Mr. Bell wakes us up at six. He then comes again after ten minutes or so to see that nobody is sleeping late. Anybody still found in bed gets a sound caning. Thus he beat the guitar and it made a loud twanging sound. He must have been shocked for he turned pale and I could see it in his eyes. He divined what was wrong and immediately informed Mr. Bright. They send people in all directions to search for the boy, but it was of no avail. They found the counterpane discarded enroute to Connoor. It was the first successful attempt during my time in school. A few others had tried it before but they were invariably caught. Of all persons, George did the stupidest thing by latching up the windows after he helped Joseph scoot. Mr. Bell knew that Joseph had help from inside. They questioned us, but as usual we denied any knowledge of the incident. So it was another week of getting up early in the morning and doing social work after heavy workouts in the name of punishments.

Pervert

One nasty incident I remember is the cock catching. At first we dismissed it as some prank. I did not believe the story when others said that somebody had played with their dicks in the night. Then one day it happened to me...I was fast asleep – suddenly I woke up. I felt something cold creeping up my crotch. The night was pitch black. Somebody had switched off the night lamp. I could not see a thing. The cold hand was searching my crotch. I was filled with dread and frightened to death. As if in sleep I muttered something and turned over. Maybe the hand whoever it was, on realising that I was waking up, left. After a time picking up some courage I turned the light on. Annamalai was awake and I related what happened. He also said that the same thing happened to him and he too was afraid. Slowly the whole room woke up. Most everybody had at some time or the other been manhandled by this pervert and nobody had the courage to catch him red handed. Till date nobody knows who the cock catcher was. It will, I guess remain a mystery like the original Jack the ripper. That incident still gives me the creeps.

Going back to school

After the holidays we were returning to school. We were in the eighth standard. All the boys in the Tea Garden Express were catching up with the holidays and comparing notes of what they did during the holidays. I was feeling homesick and depressed. I always do so after the holidays. When we reached Coimbatore it was very early in the morning. It was prohibition time in Tamil Nadu and the police entered the compartment to check the baggage for liquor. They checked everybody’s luggage cursorily. Shajin wouldn’t let them check his bag. Mathew Thomas encouraged Shajin. The policemen were frustrated. Warwin told the policemen that Shajin had two bottles of whiskey in his bag. Mathew Thomas then brought around his bag for a second check up. He pulled out a bottle of coconut oil and insisted it was whiskey. The policemen were irritated but he kept on insisting that do a thorough check up. They were adamant that they must check Shajin’s bag. Shajin hugged on to his bag for dear life. In the end he relented and dipped his hand into his bag and brought out a soiled under wear and waved it in their faces and said, "Do you want to see my dirty under pants. There are more inside". Meanwhile the whole sleepy compartment had come alive and there was uproarious laughter at the boys’ antics. The hot and embarrassed policemen left without checking Shajin’s bag. That incident warmed the cockles of my heart and lifted some of the homesickness off me....................

COLLEGE DAYS...

After the tenth standard, the holidays were fun. More than two months with nothing to study. At home I had few friends, but I had a small country boat which had the capacity to hold only one person. More than that, the boat would sink. More than half the day was spend on the boat. I explored every small river around Kannady, Pulincunnu and Kavalam. By the time the holidays were over I had joined the St.Berchmans College in Changanacherry for the Pre Degree Course. I had taken the first group with the subjects Maths, Physics and Chemistry. I was put in the college hostel, Sahrudaya. It was the largest and the rowdiest of the four college hostels, but its mess had the best food. Sahrudaya was a four story building and was the youngest of the four hostels, but the largest in size and in the number of boarders. Unlike other hostels this hostel had two wardens. It was the assistant warden who was more active. In the other hostels the rooms were smaller so it accomadated two persons per room. In Sahrudaya it was four boarders per room. The hostel was 'C' shaped and the shortest way from the college to the hostel was from behind the C. Sahrudaya was at the bottom of the cut away hill and so one crossed the concrete bridge straight to the first floor. We the first years were lodged in this floor. The warden's quarters too were at one end of this floor. Each of us had a cot and a table and chair. There were two windows opening out from the far end and one window opening out to the veranda. The window opening out to the veranda had no latch so that the warden could monitor each room during studies and at wake up times.

The first month in the hostel was hell. In the name of ragging a lot of bullying was done. We were made to wash the under clothes of our seniors, made to do many undesirable things in the name of ragging. Any sign of dissent and then body harm was done. I escaped the worst of the ragging by becoming an unauthorized day scholar during the period of ragging. Almost every day I used to go home after classes. It was a novel experience for me...travelling home by boat almost every day. The boat was mostly filled with college students. It was filled with their jokes and laughter. To reach Pulincunnu, a distance of around fifteen kilometers it took almost an hour by boat. The ragging was officially brought to an end by hosting a friendship party by each hostel, where the first years presented a variety entertainment program. In SB College after each period we had to change classes depending on the time table and go to the concerned department for attending classes. It was a novel experience to me. The college was huge and in the begining I was quiet studious. But as time passed I acquired many friends and slowly my studies fell away. When the first year results came I had failed in half the subjects.

Meanwhile things were happening at home which I was quiet oblivious of . The quarrel that was there between my father and his siblings were coming to a boil. There was a kidnap threat against me and my father shifted me to Thodupuzha and I continued my studies there. It was a blessing in disguise for me because had I continued in SB I surely would not have passed my Pre Degree Course. While in Thodupuzha my grandmother died. All of us shifted to Thodupuzha by the next year. I was ignorant of the magnitude of trouble that my father was going through. There was trouble for him back home with the family feud intensifying with threats against his life and a multitude of civil and criminal cases. Double trouble awaited him at Thodupuzha. His wife's family also rose up against him. He had property in Thodupuzha which was looked after by his father in law. There was misunderstanding over it and ultimately my father took possession over the property but we ended up on bad terms with them. My mother was a woman of uncommonly strong character. She was just like her father, with strong convictions and great determination and no fear. When the trouble intensified she took over the reigns at Pulincunnu and braved a great many odds. She faced all the troubles calmly and was a great pillar of strength and patience for my father. She showed her mettle when she stood for Panchayat elections in Pulincunnu in 1978, against a powerful landlord named Krishnankutty, whom even the men feared to stand against and just lost by seven votes due to a fraud committed by Krishnankutty and his henchmen. Thus came to an end my father's close friendship with Sreedharan Pilla, the younger brother of Krishnankutty. An era for us was over.

The best years of my life were the three years I spend in Newman College, Thodupuzha.