memoirs2

In his own words...

On the maker...

God always comes up with a third-act-twist and we won't know until we die whether the play was a comedy or a tragedy. So you'd better be prepared for both. That's the exhilaration of being alive. There is always another scene coming out of nowhere. God is the best dramatist.

On his mother...

My mother, an ardent devotee of the supreme one always on the side of the flurry of angels, had no compunction in whole-heartedly taking up the strictly scientific aspects of the pyramid.

Dated 3rd Jan. 98.

(On his last trip to India Jacob was surprised to see his mother using a pyramid-shaped cardboard for her elbow pain and at once jotted down the above words in a piece of paper and smilingly gave it to her.)

In one of his philosophical moods

The power of communicating our thoughts and feelings by conversation is, one of the greatest blessings bestowed upon mankind. Every word one utters, wings its way to the throne of God and is to affect the condition of your soul forever. Once uttered it can never be recalled and the impression which it makes extends to the years beyond the existence of earth.

Jacob’s reflections on childhood and manhood

Oh, the sweetness of childhood, its beauty and splendour

its oceans of innocence, mountains of faith,

With castles of hope in the air and its petty flounders.

how i wish back it cometh!

Oh, the treachery of manhood, its ugliness and evasion,

its oceans of problems, a life empty and bare,

With castles of despondency on a firm foundation.

how i wish it was an evanescent nightmare!

On teaching and teachers

I agree most categorically that teachers should make learning enjoyable and fun for their students. Most children, when they begin their academic pursuits early in life, start with equating school to hard work and drudgery. It is the teacher who has in his absolute power to reveal the child's interests. Most children who begin to enjoy learning are greatly indebted to one or more of their teachers who taught them that knowledge can be power and that the process of attaining that power can be fun.

I, for one, had a very remarkable lady for my mathematics teacher in school, who initiated me to the fascinating world of numbers. She instilled in me a love for numbers and the knack to juggle them around. This resulted in my unerring cent percent marks in 10th school leaving mathematics examination and a degree in engineering subsequently.

Botany was a subject in school i could never 'digest'. The unending names and classification of a million or so plants, shrubs, trees and bushes left me panting for breath. My erstwhile botany teacher, a most revered father of the jesuit church took our class out on a one-day field trip to the local horticultural park. It was more of a picnic than an academic trip, but the amount of insight into plants we gained that day could not be matched in a semester of classroom lectures.

And as a final example, let me narrate a short incident from the memories of english classes. We had been given the list of 'six letter and more' word list to be memorised with their meanings - an almost impossible task at that age. Then our english madam came up with this game - the class was divided into two groups, we start with one word from the list, the other group had to give another word from the list and explain some or any sort of connection in meaning between the words, subsequent to which our group comes with a third word and so on and so forth, oh, we had lots of fun but at the end of the period i doubt if any of us did not know the meaning of any of the words.

Let me finish by saying - "all work and no play makes jack a dull boy" - teaching work (study) can be as fun as play and i think we can rewrite the above adadge.

"My reflections" -[ found in jacob's diary - 1988 ]

It was monday, the 21st of november. I was returning from school and was waiting for the electric train. The time was 5.05 pm. The trains are usually over-crowded at this time.

The train arrived. I stood somewhere at the middle of the platform. The compartments rushed pass me one by one. I could see people hanging out through the jammed doors. Suddenly i saw one of the vendor's compartment coming almost empty. I could not believe my eyes. Along with me, many others too had spotted it and we all made a dash for it. Every one of us stopped still on our tracks, at the door way of the compartment. For just inside lay the dead body of a man completely covered by a tarpaulin. I could hear muttered words of disgust and anger and curiosity from the passengers next to me. Then every one of them turned and went to fight, for survival at other compartments. No wonder the vendor's compartment was empty.

I was at indecision whether or not to enter it. Well, i decided, there is nothing to be afraid of a dead man and entered the compartment.

The first sense was smell - a disgusting odour of blood and salt. The next was sight. I saw totally 8 people in the whole compartment - 4 boys of about 20 years of age singing some popular hit songs in tamil and drumming away. They were dressed very shabbily. There was a very old couple, very quiet too. Besides them there was a middle-aged man with a beard carrying a heavy package and a fifth man with a parcel of what appeared to be glass.

I sat down and turned my attention to the body. On second look, i discovered that it was not fully covered as i had imagined earlier. The legs below the knees were visible. One leg had its toes smashed together with dried flesh and blood over it. In between the toes and the ankle, the flesh had been torn apart and stark while bone was visible. The other leg ended at the ankle with nothing beyond it. Slowly a kind of sickness came over me and i was thankful that the rest of the body was covered.

By this time the next station had arrived and a group of people rushed to our compartment. The same thing happened - not one of them came in.

People try to avoid death and anything connected with it. When i say people, i do not exclude myself. They generally do not like to even look at dead bodies when each one of them is fated to end the same way. Is it because they do not want to face reality? Or is it because they do not want to spoil their temporary happiness by thinking about eternal oblivion?

The next station came and the 4 shabbily dressed young men covered the exposed legs and took it out of the train. I looked out and my eyes met the electric crematorium at the nearby cemetery. Only 2 people entered the compartment at that station.

The train rolled on and left me to my sober thoughts. On arriving at the next station, a happy lot of people, (because they had found an empty compartment) entered it and chatted away standing on the very spot where a very still form, who had been probably as gay as them, had lain until a few minutes earlier. I heard one of the passengers commenting to another- 'what the hell ! This compartment is so empty, that i can't believe it. Look out ! There may be a dead body or something."

Ah! How true! How true! As the train rolled on to my destination, one question popped up on my mind -

which will be my day?

(this was written by him soon after his 16th birthday)

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