Haunting Remembrances - Chapter VI
ST ANTHONY'S HIGH SCHOOL - THE PRIMARY SCHOOL YEARS
Time wasn't going to wait, nor was it going to slow down, to give me the luxury of getting acquainted with the new situations and new characters that had entered my life in an intractable throng after that memorable first day in St Anthony's High School. Rather, it moved all the more on a fleet foot, showing me more to admire; more to wonder at; and more to be bemused about; at a swift pace. A few days into my new life in my new school, I was reminded that the Shishu Mandir days were over, and that I was no longer the child who was to be caressed and fed, but a boy who must stand on his feet and be accountable for his actions.
Straggling into school late one day (because I waited for a bus that never came), and climbing the steps to the verandah, I found sir Halifax, cane in hand, resolutely blocking my way. Every wrinkle on his taut face seemed to frown at me as he asked, "why are you late?" And as if divining my thoughts, asked again, "waiting for the bus?" this time with incredulity writ large on his countenance. As I saw two other boys standing behind him with heads bowed, and who might have given him that excuse already, I just nodded my head meekly. I was made to run ten rounds of the field as recompense for the transgression that day, reduced from twenty as a concession for being a first-time offender. From that day, I dreaded the ignominy of public punishment, and felt shivers down my spine when the teacher announced "everyone open your homework" even though I never defaulted in that regard, and never had to "stand up on the bench" or "kneel down in the corridor". I was also wary of a clear and present wildness in and around various corners of the school, and in the dark corridor leading to Class-IV, where dark shadows lay in wait for unsuspecting boys running in and out of class, tripping them and exulting in their crashing falls.
In spite of all the adjustments I had to make, moving with a stutter here and a stumble there; a slip here and a fall there; I grew in character in St Anthony's, and St Anthony's too grew in character in me, although I was still a timid little boy, lesser in height and girth than most of my schoolmates. Gradually, I shrank no longer from squeezing through the crowd at the games room window and acquiring a hockey stick and playing a full session, although the constant targeting of legs for free kicks meant that I had a couple of painful swellings on my shins at the end of the game. I pounced on the first available free handle on the foosball board, or the first vacant place at carrom, and held on to it stubbornly in spite of heckles from the bullies.
I began to enjoy watching the frequent fistfights in the campus, often starting with a series of what?...what?...what?...WHAT? (questions to which neither party sought any answers) devolving into shoves and flying fists, while the followers of each side remained in the sidelines with tightly clenched fists, ready for a free-for-all if needed. Soon, however, a Brother or a teacher would rush to the scene, separate the duelists and march them to the dreaded headmaster's office, from which they would often emerge with cheeks redder than plums.
Gradually, the old edifice too seemed more content to have me in its premises than it once was; the ponderous columns, the high ceilings, the spires, the stately portals and arches no longer looked upon me with the condescension they once did, but regarded me as a good friend. I no longer feared climbing the stairway to the first floor to look down upon the playground over those carved railings, and upon the prospect in front, of Don Bosco Square, with its bustling streets and businesses; and the pine groves on the hill, sheltering the illustrious sanctum of St Mary's High School. Even as the images of Don Bosco Square flash before me, my heart longs to return back to that fairground, which made my tiffin times so delightful and memorable, as I roamed in it with the great wealth of fifty paise jingling in my pocket, choosing from the pleasures I could buy - aloo chaat served with toothpicks in folded paper plates at 10 paise per plate; tangy tamarind paste (kong's own recipe) or two red cubes of sweetmeat I called lal sandesh, for 10 paise; one sofo and one soyom from my favorite corner kong shop at 10 paise; one ice cream bar, which I could never finish to the end as the last piece always dropped off the stick, for 10 paise; and twenty 3D pictures viewed on a view master camera for 10 paise. It makes me wonder, whether even fifty thousand rupees spent today would be able to generate half the cheer and enchantment that fifty paise generated in those halcyon days.
As one image ushers in another, in an unending train of moments lying frozen in time, but coming to life in a phoenixlike resurgence as the mind shines over them the dreamy light of nostalgia, I see those days in St Anthony's woven in gold, wherefrom emerges faces and voices and scenes, beckoning me to relive them again. I can see so clearly kind Miss Pariat, teaching from that lovely book - Brighter Grammar - coming to my desk and kindly showing me how to compose a good sentence. I remember sweet Miss Josephine, as I see her now, smiling so encouragingly to me as I attempt to resolve an arithmetic problem for the umpteenth time. The pretty face of Miss J D'Bonnicks, in Class-V, now flashes before me, as I see her look at me in concern, and ask me if I am well, and place her hand so gently on my forehead to see if I am feverish. Oh! the thrill of that moment! And what an immaculate sense of sartorial elegance she had, always dressed in glistening brocaded jainsems and large sunglasses, and what beautiful floral parasols and umbrellas she had, with little trinkets hanging from the ends!
I see before me the tall figure of Father Kenny forming out of the shadows in the mist; the old, former headmaster who was bowed with age but still walked taller than any other in the corridors of St Anthony's; kindness and compassion in his loving heart showing clearly in the beaming smile and laughing wrinkles on his face, making him the most adored person in the campus. I see all the Brothers - Bro Sebastian (who made me the games card with my name so artfully written on it that I treasured that card for a long time), Bro John, Bro Stephen and Bro Louis, all of whom I admired so much not just for their innate kindness, but also for their sense of discipline and their demeanor, which was as spotless and flawless as their flowing white cassocks. I see myself in that wonderful library, where I read so many beautiful books, especially the big books of fairy tales which transported me into their wondrous worlds.
Now I fly on the light wings of nostalgia into that abode of divine silence, the Parish Church of the Cathedral of Mary Helper of Christians, which was my fond refuge many a time of tiffin breaks, stealing quietly away from the bustle on the field, down the steps behind the basketball court, into the tranquil interiors, wondering again at the overwhelming aura of the place, and losing myself in the dreamy light filtering in through its magnificent stained glass windows. The priest there would often smile benevolently at me, and allow me to dally to my heart's content in that wonderful sacrarium
Although the two years of enlightenment and indoctrination made me wiser, bolder and merrier in the company of the school I was beginning to love more and more, I still looked upon our imponderable headmaster in awe and fear. I still looked on in amazement and wonder as every time he appeared in the podium, or stepped onto the field, his aura and a wave of silence always preceded him. I still felt a little bit of that old trepidation when I crossed the large mahogany and glass door that shut upon the sombre interiors of his office, imagining the dread of entering those confines if I were to be summoned there, and baulked even at the subdued shimmer of the golden plaque outside the door announcing the austere office in black, embossed letters. Father George retained his hold on me then, and retains his hold on me today.
As the weeks and months passed by in a rapid flux, I found myself ascending to Class-VI, whereupon I felt a tinge of sadness, and a sense of bereavement as a host of characters departed from my life, all of a sudden, for ever - the Misses Pariat, Josephine and J D'Bonnicks, who had such an emotional influence on my days in Primary School (in fact, I almost cried when I met Miss Pariat afterward, when I was in Class-VII, she calling me to the teacher's room and asking me whether I remembered her); my classmates, many of whom would now be in other sections, and among whom two come to mind - Arup Dutta, the star of our class in studies and in smartness - and Prakash, the darling of all our teachers, a scion of the Dreamland Cinema family, who always sat on the first bench, and brought tickets for blockbuster movies to present to the happy teachers in class. But the thought of yet being in the same school as all of them comforted me, as I looked forward to the exciting times in High School.
In spite of all the adjustments I had to make, moving with a stutter here and a stumble there; a slip here and a fall there; I grew in character in St Anthony's, and St Anthony's too grew in character in me, although I was still a timid little boy, lesser in height and girth than most of my schoolmates. Gradually, I shrank no longer from squeezing through the crowd at the games room window and acquiring a hockey stick and playing a full session, although the constant targeting of legs for free kicks meant that I had a couple of painful swellings on my shins at the end of the game. I pounced on the first available free handle on the foosball board, or the first vacant place at carrom, and held on to it stubbornly in spite of heckles from the bullies.
I began to enjoy watching the frequent fistfights in the campus, often starting with a series of what?...what?...what?...WHAT? (questions to which neither party sought any answers) devolving into shoves and flying fists, while the followers of each side remained in the sidelines with tightly clenched fists, ready for a free-for-all if needed. Soon, however, a Brother or a teacher would rush to the scene, separate the duelists and march them to the dreaded headmaster's office, from which they would often emerge with cheeks redder than plums.
Gradually, the old edifice too seemed more content to have me in its premises than it once was; the ponderous columns, the high ceilings, the spires, the stately portals and arches no longer looked upon me with the condescension they once did, but regarded me as a good friend. I no longer feared climbing the stairway to the first floor to look down upon the playground over those carved railings, and upon the prospect in front, of Don Bosco Square, with its bustling streets and businesses; and the pine groves on the hill, sheltering the illustrious sanctum of St Mary's High School. Even as the images of Don Bosco Square flash before me, my heart longs to return back to that fairground, which made my tiffin times so delightful and memorable, as I roamed in it with the great wealth of fifty paise jingling in my pocket, choosing from the pleasures I could buy - aloo chaat served with toothpicks in folded paper plates at 10 paise per plate; tangy tamarind paste (kong's own recipe) or two red cubes of sweetmeat I called lal sandesh, for 10 paise; one sofo and one soyom from my favorite corner kong shop at 10 paise; one ice cream bar, which I could never finish to the end as the last piece always dropped off the stick, for 10 paise; and twenty 3D pictures viewed on a view master camera for 10 paise. It makes me wonder, whether even fifty thousand rupees spent today would be able to generate half the cheer and enchantment that fifty paise generated in those halcyon days.
As one image ushers in another, in an unending train of moments lying frozen in time, but coming to life in a phoenixlike resurgence as the mind shines over them the dreamy light of nostalgia, I see those days in St Anthony's woven in gold, wherefrom emerges faces and voices and scenes, beckoning me to relive them again. I can see so clearly kind Miss Pariat, teaching from that lovely book - Brighter Grammar - coming to my desk and kindly showing me how to compose a good sentence. I remember sweet Miss Josephine, as I see her now, smiling so encouragingly to me as I attempt to resolve an arithmetic problem for the umpteenth time. The pretty face of Miss J D'Bonnicks, in Class-V, now flashes before me, as I see her look at me in concern, and ask me if I am well, and place her hand so gently on my forehead to see if I am feverish. Oh! the thrill of that moment! And what an immaculate sense of sartorial elegance she had, always dressed in glistening brocaded jainsems and large sunglasses, and what beautiful floral parasols and umbrellas she had, with little trinkets hanging from the ends!
I see before me the tall figure of Father Kenny forming out of the shadows in the mist; the old, former headmaster who was bowed with age but still walked taller than any other in the corridors of St Anthony's; kindness and compassion in his loving heart showing clearly in the beaming smile and laughing wrinkles on his face, making him the most adored person in the campus. I see all the Brothers - Bro Sebastian (who made me the games card with my name so artfully written on it that I treasured that card for a long time), Bro John, Bro Stephen and Bro Louis, all of whom I admired so much not just for their innate kindness, but also for their sense of discipline and their demeanor, which was as spotless and flawless as their flowing white cassocks. I see myself in that wonderful library, where I read so many beautiful books, especially the big books of fairy tales which transported me into their wondrous worlds.
Now I fly on the light wings of nostalgia into that abode of divine silence, the Parish Church of the Cathedral of Mary Helper of Christians, which was my fond refuge many a time of tiffin breaks, stealing quietly away from the bustle on the field, down the steps behind the basketball court, into the tranquil interiors, wondering again at the overwhelming aura of the place, and losing myself in the dreamy light filtering in through its magnificent stained glass windows. The priest there would often smile benevolently at me, and allow me to dally to my heart's content in that wonderful sacrarium
Although the two years of enlightenment and indoctrination made me wiser, bolder and merrier in the company of the school I was beginning to love more and more, I still looked upon our imponderable headmaster in awe and fear. I still looked on in amazement and wonder as every time he appeared in the podium, or stepped onto the field, his aura and a wave of silence always preceded him. I still felt a little bit of that old trepidation when I crossed the large mahogany and glass door that shut upon the sombre interiors of his office, imagining the dread of entering those confines if I were to be summoned there, and baulked even at the subdued shimmer of the golden plaque outside the door announcing the austere office in black, embossed letters. Father George retained his hold on me then, and retains his hold on me today.
As the weeks and months passed by in a rapid flux, I found myself ascending to Class-VI, whereupon I felt a tinge of sadness, and a sense of bereavement as a host of characters departed from my life, all of a sudden, for ever - the Misses Pariat, Josephine and J D'Bonnicks, who had such an emotional influence on my days in Primary School (in fact, I almost cried when I met Miss Pariat afterward, when I was in Class-VII, she calling me to the teacher's room and asking me whether I remembered her); my classmates, many of whom would now be in other sections, and among whom two come to mind - Arup Dutta, the star of our class in studies and in smartness - and Prakash, the darling of all our teachers, a scion of the Dreamland Cinema family, who always sat on the first bench, and brought tickets for blockbuster movies to present to the happy teachers in class. But the thought of yet being in the same school as all of them comforted me, as I looked forward to the exciting times in High School.
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