Down the memory lane- III

Third Grade
A litmus test

Three years at one place, and you don’t remain an outsider. You become a part of it!
This was the case as I entered my third year in Vizag and KVW.
A decent telugu with a tinge of nativity that included a “Babu” at the end of every dialogue, a “Subba rao” for a nickname, and a gang of loyal friends in class, all lent some testimony to it.
Life was no longer a fight against the odds. Things had fallen well in place. I had finally managed to build a good rapport with my teachers thanks to my stage exploits (I am allowed to exaggerate because it is my blog!) and being among the top five rank holders of my class in the preceding annual examinations.(sounds better than just “fifth rank”, isn’t it?).
But just when things seemed to settle down, two of the bitterest incidents of my childhood stuck from the blue- One for the body and the other for the mind!
I am picking the latter, owing to the series being restricted to the incidents in school.

It was time for the cumulative examinations. And we had to deal with the Languages first.
Right from day one, languages have been no less a saviour for me.
I could boast of a school first in tenth while others with a greater total couldn’t, as I had topped in Hindi! And, I managed a 95+ % in high school despite screwing up all the important papers big time, all credits to the languages.
Even my last CAT scores could at least cross *&% percentile, thanks to English.(censored by Mr. Dignity).

As far as my memory could take me, English and Hindi were usually the first two subjects on the Exam Time table. It was the case that time too.
We had 2.5 hours of written test every morning of a week within which all the 5 subjects were dealt with.

To a primary class student, examinations are always fun and excitement.
2-3 hours of study would just about enable us get an 80%.
And back then, we were all role models for leading a contended life! :)

And examinations meant we could leave our back packs home and take fancy writing pads plastered with cool pictures of Wrestlers and Cricketers, and anything that was colourful including the National Flag .(And at one corner, for sure, images of our favourite Gods, to help us get that additional 5-6 marks that determine the rankings. )
And also, after the test, we could play cricket with our weightless, fancier cricket bats (writing pads, of course) and a not-so-heavy-ball (A paper, in most cases being a copy of the day’s question paper, rolled into a ball with a rubber band). Oh boy, weren’t they more entertaining than T20?
And when those are the easier tests like the languages, students would be that more enthusiastic.
And I learnt a lesson just for that.

It was the turn of the Hindi test. The paper was half printed with questions and we had to fill the answers in the spaces using pencil.

Most of us finished the paper well in time, as usual. But, as the rules didn’t permit us to leave the hall before the bell rings, we had to wait in our seats till then.

At that age, I was coming out of my bedwetting habit and believe me; it is harder than the cigars.

And so, you see, I wasn’t an expert in holding my bladder. (Man, It was winter too! What do you expect?)

And thus, had this sudden urge to leave for the rest room. I got up from the seat in a jiffy and requested the considerate ma’am to let me out (no pun intended!). And she did, on one condition that I should be returning to hand over the papers to her. I accepted her treaty like Japan post Hiroshima. I didn’t have a choice.

I put my paper on the table, went to my comfort zone, and was back in a fiver. The bell rang, and off we went to start another day’s play!

The week was over, and I was not particularly upset about any of my papers. I thought I had given a good performance overall.

A few days later, our Hindi teacher walked into the class with our answer sheets. She always had the habit of sorting the papers in the ascending order of marks for distribution.

And there she was, calling each student to the front of the class and reading out his/her mark as she handed the sheets out.

Like any other student, I wanted mine to get as much delayed as possible. And my happiness grew with time, only to burst in the end as she called out the best student in the class to receive his paper.

A sudden moment of loneliness engulfed me. I checked my neighbours if they had got theirs. Of course they did. I looked at the teacher’s table and there was one shabby looking paper lying on it. Even from the third bench where I was seated, I could tell it wasn’t mine.

I wasted no time in heading to the teacher. And before I could tell her, she thrust that shabby looking answer sheet in my hands with an ‘I-can-read-your-mind’ expression on her face and said, “Here, You haven’t written your name properly!”
One good look at the paper and I was left shell-shocked! The sheet had a 12/80!
What more? It had my roll number and some strange looking name starting with “s” on it.

This was probably my first taste of injustice in life! I returned the paper immediately saying it wasn’t mine. There were no absentees on that day (One of those handful days in school. It must have been one with 2 P.T periods!). So, the teacher found the only possible solution.

She asked me to check each student’s sheet to see if mine had got mixed up with anyone.
By this time, I was on the verge of tears.

As I went to each desk and had a look at the papers, my sorrow grew. Though I was among the contended lot, it was still depressing to see the dullest of dull students having a score of over 12.

Just a 7 year old, I neither had an IQ, nor the patience to go through the answer sheets. I only went through the names in the answer sheets to see if it had mine, and alas, there was none.

The raid having got completed, I took my one and only weapon out- My tears.

The teacher tried to console a weeping me for a while in vain, and then, took me to my Class teacher’s place. She was a no-nonsense lady. She heard from my hindi teacher and the two discussed in a low tone for a while until they arrived a consensus. They handed that answer sheet back to me and started consoling with words that included-

“We can understand your situation. You are a bright student and must have come under prepared for the exam. So, having done poorly, you would have written your name wrongly to disown your paper later.”

It took me sometime to realize that they weren’t consoling, but were, in fact, accusing me.
It was THE TEACHERS who had accused me. So, I thought I had no other choice than to take it.

A 7 year old doesn’t know he can argue with THE TEACHERS.

I wept the longest time at school that day.
In the evening, I waited teary eyed for my parents to break the story to them, though with a valid doubt,

“My TEACHERS didn’t believe me. So, why would my parents?”

And my doubts were squashed later, when my Dad turned livid hearing my teachers’ accusations through my brother and me as we showed the shabby answer sheet to him.
I realized, parents were parents! None could equal them!

I got some courage back as my parents said they would talk to my teachers the next day accompanying me to school.

I started to feel I might not have to own up for this 12/80 marks, after all!

A heated argument between the Headmistress, teachers and my parents followed the next day.
Both the sides stood like a rock on their stands. It was so intense that I was left wondering which would happen first- My expulsion or my drop-out!

On hindsight, being a Government school, it was not within the powers of the teachers to remove a student on any ground. And nor would they, if they had the powers.

My dad, an articulate person, had to undergo a serious test of patience. With the feud not heading to an end, he decided enough had been said and cut it abrupt. He asked me to go back to my class and said we could think of something after school. I had handed the baton over to my dad by then and resumed my lessons peacefully.

I was told by my parents not to accept the marks in any circumstances and that we could deal with it at the time of Progress report signing.

Three days passed by without any news on my marks. And, the mystery was solved on the fourth!

I was called to the Headmistress’ room in the middle of the Post noon session.
I went there with a whole bunch of apprehensions. As I said those May-I-Come-In thingy, I noticed my class teacher, Hindi teacher and a timid looking boy alongside the HM.

The boy was my classmate and a not-so-good a friend of mine. It turned out that he was the real culprit!

My Sherlockish Hindi teacher had pulled the rabbit out of the hat! She had compared the Unit test scores of all the students with their Cumulative exam scores. And the only duckling happened to be that boy. They had called him for enquiry and he went into submissive!

This was his modus operandi:-

On the day of the test, when I had been to loo, he managed to steal my paper from my desk, erased my name and roll number written in pencil, and wrote his in the spaces. And, then, returned the ‘favour’ by placing his paper on my desk after scribbling my roll number and name on it!

And I couldn’t notice anything wrong on my return, as I was more focussed on handing over the sheet to the invigilator as soon as possible so that I can enter the playground early.

But, the ‘poor’ criminal had committed a grave mistake which led to his trail!

He didn’t know the correct spelling of my name!
And, that became his nemesis!

(I don’t blame him for this shortcoming! Even my present day friends find it hard to spell my name!)

For once, I was thankful that my parents had named me big! :)

It is still hard to imagine what would have happened had he spelt my name correct. No one would have believed it wasn’t my paper, probably including me! :)

All the concerned teachers apologized for their incredulity and asked me to convey some more to my parents.

The boy was let off with a severe warning and a week of suspension. And I got my real score eventually- a 62/80!

This boy became a good friend of mine later on and was leading a well-improved life till I last heard of him in eighth.

This incident was not a lesson just for me, but for all the characters involved, and also from now on, is one for the readers! :)

Down the memory lane- II

Second Grade
A win after all

I mince no words in saying I was as poor a student as one can be in my Kindergarten and most of my First grade, till I joined KVW.
My relatives draw reminiscence recounting how much they had struggled in vain to teach me write the first tamil alphabet! I would always manage to write it reversed.
(Thank god, Tare zameen par came much later. Else, People would’ve doubted dyslexia! )
My Octogenarian grandma, still clearly remembers how we had become a laughing stock when I messed up as a tamil teacher in a Fancy Dress Competition, chanting "Sooriyan udhikkum disai kizhakku" ("The sun rises in the east.."), instead of Aathichoodi (A tamil poem)!
It didn’t stop with this. I had once gone to the wrong dressing room in my UKG Annual day function only to turn up in the wrong costume for a western group dance (Boogie Woogie)!
And, obviously, with such a heavy background, it would have taken a person some time to get accustomed to a new place. And my remaining 3 months in First standard and the summer vacation that followed gave me just that.

With an increased friend circle and an enhanced communication skill, my second grade started seeing what was supposedly a myth earlier- ‘my better side’. :)

And the incident that I choose as the most memorable is one of those!

It was a dream-come-true for a struggling child facing one adversity after another, having not managed to win even a consolation prize at the dumbest of dumb competitions. (yes, it includes the ‘dumb-charades’ I played in my First grade!)

My brother had become a popular student by then, having given quite a few stage performances, be it competitions, news reading, sharing the ‘thought of the day’, or giving the monotonous “Saaavdhaan!!!- Vishraaaam!!!” :).

So, it was natural that I tried my hand at it one day. And that day did arrive.

It was time for the Annual English recitation competition. And, I gave my name after noticing the best student of my class not going for it for reasons best known to him. (One viable reason would be that he had his showcase completely filled with Cups that he was waiting for a new showcase to be installed! :) )

We had more than a week to prepare for the competition. I took to my dad for help. He obliged by getting me a copy of “Twinkle Twinkle little star” (full version) from the state board English texts.

I had a very tough time learning the poem by heart. I kept forgetting the lines every now and then. And, finally, lost any confidence of reciting it on stage.

I was so scared in the morning of the competition that I was almost in tears asking my dad to do something. He gave his usual solution-

“Take the day’s leave, son. I’ll write a letter to your class teacher”.

I somehow didn’t like the idea for once (yeah, I stress, “only once” :) ).
I got an idea. I managed to borrow a kindergarten English text book from my neighbour and started searching for the easiest poem available.

Amidst the little stars, humpty dumpty’s and hot cross buns, I found what I wanted-
A four line poem not learnt in my KG.

I thought this would be enough to save the embarrassment of standing blank on stage. I started mugging the lines up. It took just an hour to master it. And, I started to school on our cycle rickshaw pondering if I had done the right thing.

A part of me told I would be making a fool out of myself. But, I shrugged it off saying,
“Nothing to fear mate. You have been doing this all along! Nothing new!” :)

And the competition began.

With each participant’s performance on stage, my confidence stooped further low.
For, they were not just reciting lengthy poems, but were also giving a tune to it.

And, when I was completely inside the bore-well I had dug for myself, my name was called!

I walked on to the stage nervously.

I had been instructed by my brother not to look at the audience but to look at the space in between. I started looking out for that elusive space, but couldn’t find one.

I stroked the microphone’s head twice as everyone else had done not knowing the exact reason. It echoed, making me more nervous than ever.

But, I had practised my initial address speech pretty well. So, I started off with a confident sounding “Respected judges, teachers and my dear friends..”.

And then it happened!

The microphone stopped working! It was a power cut!!!

My nervousness dried away. I could sense an opportunity. I knew my voice would now be heard only as far as my judges were seated.

I thought this was my golden chance. I didn’t stop my speech. I carried on. And quickly recited what was meant to be my first successful recitation:-

“Cock crows in the morn to tell us to rise,

And he who lies late will never be wise;

For, early to bed and early to rise,

Keeps the body healthy, wealthy and wise!”

(The above is the complete poem and not a small part of it! :))

Relieved having recited my part without the speakers, I departed saying a big “thank you” to all, and more importantly, to God for saving my grace!

I asked my classmates for feedback soon afterwards. All of them said they couldn’t hear even a bit. I was comforted! 

A week later, the winners were announced on stage during the Morning Prayer,

“...And, the first prize goes to B.S. Sankara Subramaniam of 2nd B!”

To this day, it has been a mystery what made the judges award it to me.
But then, I had learnt a lesson,

There are some things in life destined!

I managed to win many more prizes then on. But, this moment is the most memorable of them all! :)

Down the memory lane

I was reminded of my early school days, thanks to a few pictures of my school posted by my old chums online.
There are countless memories etched in my heart, associated with the school where I studied from the First Grade to the Eighth!

In this post and the sub sequent ones, I am going to brief one such memorable incident from each Grade! Let’s go down my memory lane! :)

First Grade
The MigrAnt

I was new to Andhra. And so was Andhra to me!
I joined KVW, in the last quarter of the academic year, as an extremely timorous first grader. And people speaking an alien tongue didn't help matters either.
Hardly 5 years old, English, to me, was no more than ABCD, twinkle twinkle and Ba ba Black-sheep! And for the records, my Hindi was as good as my Greek and Latin.
In a month or so, I could manage a few friends with my broken English (if I can overrate it! :) )but, still, couldn't be half as expressive as I wanted.

One (not-so-) fine day, I was drinking water from my bottle when I found something oddly coarse in it. I was shocked to see a pool of red ants floating on the water inside the bottle.
I knew red ants' bite was as bad as an injection. I was quite unaware, at that tender age, that those ants would have long been dead before they could have tried to bite my mouth and whatever inside! (Yeah..” whatever”.. You don't expect a First grader to know about the pipes, intestines and kidneys. Do you??? ).
How hard would it be to have scores of ants biting your insides???
This thought was enough to trigger my tears big time!
And, tears turned into howl in no time!
I started wailing uncontrollably! Soon, people surrounded me asking what had happened.
If only I could explain!!!
All I could do was to point at my water bottle and my mouth! And this became some sort of exercise for me as I had to repeatedly swing my hands from my water bottle to my mouth and back again.
Alas, nobody could get it right! Crowd started to build. I became the centre of a big circle of anxious teachers and amused students. I felt like a dumb-charades contestant. A poor one all the same, I must say!

And that was when my class teacher misunderstood that I had mistakenly swallowed my water bottle's (non-existent) Straw!!! Anxiety among the teachers turned into alarm!
The panic struck teachers immediately called my elder brother to 'inform' him!
And how relieved was I to finally, find someone whom I can communicate without my hands! :)

I had never been more grateful for his presence! :)
I told everything to my translator-bro who conveyed it in "Hindi" to all! People started laughing on the triviality. And the crowd disbursed soon later.
I, eventually, stopped my tears after being guaranteed that eating ants were harmless and in fact, good for the eyes (Is it really??? Anyways, a first grader does rest assured when told by the “one-who-knows-all”, a third grader! :)).

This incident was my first memorable incident in my alma mater! I still remember the way I created a great hype out of void!

My first talent had been realized! :D

I wish I were a Fatso!

Top 10 reasons why I wish I were a fatso:-

1. People won't ask me to adjust in my seat for them to sit in trains and buses, and to a greater relief, need not sit on the lap of another person in our, more often than not, crowded Maruti 800.

2. I can have an excuse to refuse the overdose of food served at typical Indian feasts and avert impending pukes.

3. I don't have to consciously maintain my tummy.

4. I can withstand those big evening waves at Marina without losing ground.

5. I need not drill an odd looking additional hole in my belt.

6. I can break open a coconut inside an embarrassing 10 attempts.

7. I need not shy away from lifting the temple deity's palanquin.

8. I can test drive a Ducati the next time I am offered one.

9. The multiplex guys won't ask my Age proof when I go to watch Raktha
Charitra2.(Even a French beard couldn't help me last time!)

10.Last but not least, my Aricent Wrist-Watch would look normal on
my hands.

Anybody empathizing with me???

Deja Vu

2009 Nov:

Occasional bursts in the neighbourhood interrupted my eleventh hour efforts.
My remorseful part thought,
"Had I spent at least an hour daily this year, I would have been cracking it this time!"

2010 Nov:

Ditto!!

Now I know the difference between age (1) and experience (0)!

Desire

"Pen, Ponn, Punn- ivay eavum maayai alla! Aasai than maayai.. maayaiye aasai!!!"
(Woman, Gold, wound- These aren't illusions. It is only our desire that is illusion.)
This is a dialogue from the Rajini starrer, Baba.
A thought provoking one!
It makes me contemplate the reasons for our desires.
Is it the Hormones? the brain? the situations? Or a combination of all these?

Recently, my roommate was looking at a music video in which a 5 year old was doing extreme hip-hops.
He asked me sardonically if I could perform at least a single step in it.
I couldn’t dance like that even in my wildest dreams. Yet, there was something that I could! – to retaliate.
I replied,
"You are able to see him dance as his moves are less than 3x10^8m/s.
I dance faster than the speed of light and so, you aren't able to see me dance. It is your limitation, not mine!"

Though the reply was instantaneous, I felt the urge to think and write something on it.

We, human beings have a lot of limitations.
We cannot capture a thing faster than light, a noise faster than sound.
We can't breathe without Oxygen.
We can't sustain without water and food.
We can't live without gravity and sunlight.
All our actions are restricted to these human limitations.

For instance, a dog can only bark. It cannot sing operas, nor can it cook.
It has to survive on human leftovers and flesh of lesser animals.
If we pelt stones at it, it can only bite or bark (mutually exclusive events!!! :-) ). It cannot pelt them back at us.
Yet, it does not complain about it. It is quite contended doing what it can. Its desires are limited.
This is because of its limited brain, physique and social status.

And so are ours. We have so many limitations ourselves.
Do we usually wish to have wings and fly flapping it? Or swim underwater without supplements like a fish?
If we had such desires, we would know ourselves that it is impossible, atleast for now.
Our desires rather revolve around more achievable things like money, fame, health and sex.
But are they, in real, achievements? Or, are they just being perceived by us so?
Are they worthy to be sought after?

When we are able to accept that our body has a lot of limitations, we must also realize that same is the case with our intelligence. Our perception is based only on our 5 senses and naturally, our desires are also limited to that.

Just like we are amused with the "limitedness" of a dog, the enlightened ones are with us.

Here is that dialogue by one such enlightened character in Baba, again.

"Women, Gold and wound - all are real. It is just the perception and the associated thoughts that is illusion."

It makes some sense now. Doesn't it? :-)

P.S: Don’t brand me a male chauvinist. The “woman..” dialogue is proprietary of Swami Divyananda Bharathi (Baba)! :-)

The Body

There is an old saying,

"Tell me about your company, I'll tell about you!"

And there is another one,

"A man is best judged in his loneliness".

The two may be contradictory. But, doesn't it make you ponder on which one is true?

Illogically so, both seem correct.

A deep thought process on it answers some of the questions but raises many more.

There is a term called the "Mob psychology" which is nothing but the state of the mind of an individual in a mob (group).

When a group of people join together with a common cause, they tend to lose their individual desires, mannerisms and conduct.
They are no more individuals, but a Mob.

One example is an angry crowd at a Cricket Match. When left alone, Mr.X might be a well mannered, reserved person with a dislike for noise.
Yet, when a disappointed Mr. X is in the stadium watching a huge section of the crowd breaking chairs, yelling slogans and pelting stones at the ground, he joins them. He loses his individual thinking and becomes a part of the mob.
This probably answers the question of how a region, state or a country, in itself, is termed Rogue.

But this raises the question of what is driving the thoughts and action of an entity.

What is a body? How do we define it?

A shallow thinking would tell us that it is a being's physical form which comprises of different parts like the brain, face, hands and legs.

But is it the start and end of it?

I would say a No!

According to me, a body is an entity which consists of different elements coordinating with each other.

If we take the physical form of a human being, the brain should instruct other parts and they have to act accordingly. A Hand-eye coordination is needed to lift and place objects, feet must organize to walk, and so on.

To call an entity as body, all its elements should coordinate with each other, or at least, bear with one another.

An overgrown finger nail is cut off from the body as it hinders the grip of the hands and causes harm to other parts of the body. A cancerous arm is amputated to stop it infecting the other elements of the body. But, a polio-attacked leg or a pair of deaf ears can be kept as they can better be borne.
Let us add another dimension to it by bringing "Mob- psychology" into picture.

We can call a mob, a body in itself. The aim of the mob in our example is to cause chaos and display its disappointment.
Every element of it, i.e., each person, coordinates and does his/her part. A person doing nothing, but keeping quiet is borne by the mob.
But a person going against it, shouting at it for its mis-doings has to bear the brunt of it.

A brain without hands, legs, eyes, ears is useless. Similarly, hands and legs lose their importance in the absence of a sound brain.
Each element of a body is, thus, inter dependent.

Now, taking a bigger perspective, A whole country can be seen as a body. Each person in it is inter-dependent in some way or the other.
And they share a certain common cause that brings them together.
Any person going against the body (country) is borne to a level and then, admonished.

Similarly, all the living, non-living things in the universe are inter-dependent. Everything is connected. Everything is, knowingly or unknowingly, coordinating with each other.

The whole universe is one body!

All physical matter, information, knowledge, beliefs, good, bad, Gods, devils, are part of that single body!

The elements of it may grow in number or get amputated. Anything can happen to them. Yet, ultimately, the body would survive.

This body is called the "Maha Purusha" or the "Brahman" by the Vedas.

Each one of us is a minuscule part of the Maha Purusha.

This body covers all the things that make sense to our limited human brain and everything else. The Maha Purusha is the Almighty! Nothing is bigger than the Maha purusha.

So powerful would have been the thinking of our ancestors to bring out such an exemplary thought in so few words.
We, Hindus, believe the Vedas are the teachings of the Gods to our fore-fathers.

It is not always that I try to express my thoughts on such complex topics to others. I usually relish them within.
But, the desire was evoked by a beautiful illustration of a “bigger-body” by director Shankar in the climax of Enthiran, the Robot.

Hundreds of Rajini-bots join together and coordinate superbly to form a bigger body that is mightier than each one of them.

We have to realize the same that, we are a part of a bigger body and should not be a slave to the desires and hatreds of our tiny human form.

It took a Mahatma to realize it when Gandhiji decided to forego luxurious clothes and don a simple Dhothi for the rest of his life, seeing the miseries of his fellow body parts (fellow countrymen). :)

So, it is only natural that we, the lesser ones, would take more time. I am only hoping against hope that we would, by this lifetime. :)

The Chant

"What's the use of shouting some lines without knowing their meaning???
How's it different from hurling abuses in a foreign tongue???"
yelled the "progressive" father hearing Sanskrit Chants on TV.
The son replied,
"Cool down Dad. It's time for your BP tablet. What do you like? A dose of Phenoxybenzyl-Phentolamine or shit???"

The Dictator

They said he was the Emperor
and I, a meek pretender;
They said he was unbeatable
and I was just a muddy place's defender
who was bound to surrender;
Well, I said nothing
but did something.
Now, it's time to say who I really am and the world to listen!
I am Nadal, Rafael Nadal!

A Vision

"Her long blonde hair had been my distant dream.

Her milk-like complexion, my lifelong desire.

Her 10/10 smile, the hardest to copy.

Everything in hers was so enviable.

And, how happy I am now, to have made her realize it!"

Smiled the ghost of the once-blind girl's best friend!

The Birthday

A five pound gold Necklace from GRT,
two Samudhrika silk sarees from Pothys,
a 3D film with family and friends at Satyam,
a sumptuous banquet at the Taj,
a generous 2 Rs donation to a temple side beggar
and a bargain with the vegetable hawker to recover it
rounded off another satisfactory birthday for Mrs. Kumar.

The Refuge

The place stunk with stubs all around. The last user must have misused it, I thought. I wasn't there to use it properly either. I had to stay put though. Then, came a knock followed by that dreaded voice,

"Excuse me, ticket please!”.

Only then did I really feel the urge to use the toilet.

The Irony

Dressed up in the finest of robes, he was driven royally to the colony which gave him a rousing welcome. The people offered him multi-cuisine delicacies to eat, sang and danced day-night to entertain him and did everything possible to make him happy, and then,

dumped him into the deep blue sea!