To School again .... 40 years after

To school again ... 40 years after!
... S. Balakrishnan

As I stepped again into the portal of my alma mater after 40 long years (then known as Thiagarajar Model High School, and now Thiagarajar Higher Secondary School, in Madurai), there was no one to receive me with garlands! Maybe because I am not a VIP alumni, or maybe because I did not inform them of my long-cherished visit. So I had to request the staff member who was shooing the students into the school with a cane in his hand, to permit me visit the school. To prove that I am a genuine old student, I reminded him of an old, single-storied white building that stood aloof among the shady trees. He coolly dropped a bomb shell that it was demolished, and pointed out to a rectangular building that has come up in its place. For a moment I was engulfed with sorrow, because it was where I spent two happy years studying 7th and 8th standards.

As I stepped further into the school with his permission, I had another shock - the classroom where I studied 6th standard (1966-67) was also in a new 'avatar'. It now lay in a separate compound, converted into a primary school under the same management.

I noticed that the toilet at the far end of the playground had been converted into a cycle stand. There used to be a vast coconut grove beyond the short compound wall where some naughty boys used to escape during lunch break, hopping across a stream.

As I was strolling around in the verandah of the rectangular building with nostalgic memories of that era, the Headmaster’s (Mr. Balasubramanian) alert eyes caught me (`A stranger and how dare in a pair of jeans’, he must have wondered), and I was promptly summoned to his room. Had I been a student, I would have felt nervous to enter his room. But now that I am as old as usually the headmasters are, and also eager to meet him, gladly accepted his summon. He was surprised to learn that I am an old student of 1966-1969 period. Although I could not remember the name of the HM of that period, the name of the Asst. HM flashed by as one Mr. Rajan. But I vividly remembered with envy the favouritism shown to the two sons of the HM to always play lead roles in the school dramas. As he was busy with the morning assembly schedule, I took leave and walked back to the bus terminus after a brief chat. I wish I had attended that morning’s assembly session.

As I was slowly walking towards the terminus, some memories flashed back (as if in Cheran's Tamil film 'Autograph') -- of both teachers and the taught --- the portly lady Tamil teacher (we used to call her as ‘Tamil Amma’) who was both kind and strict, and the way she taught Tamil poems in a very lucid and interesting style; and then the Tamil Ayya, the Tamil male teacher; our class teacher (a Christian lady) for two years who used to travel from Tiruparankundram; (As I had switched over to English medium of instruction only from 6th standard, I underwent special coaching for a year under her); Mrs. Rajalakshmi who handled history & geography and was also the class teacher for the 8th standard.

The names of some of my classmates also flashed back - Narasimhan (who used to score top rank; his father was an advocate); Narendran (my close friend whose elder brother also studied in the same school and whose father was in TVS transport company); Kumar (who left in the middle of 7th standard as their family shifted to Nigeria or some African country; I still have his photo); Sivasankaran (another close friend who stayed near Koodal Azhagar temple); two Sourashtra boys with whom I had business dealings - exchange of stamps - and, consequently, some quarrels also; a Christian boy, the tallest among us (sort of a tough guy, he used to carry a handy knife to the school; an enemy-turned-friend whose house I visited once, had tea and even enjoyed some tunes which he played for me on his guitar).

There were two Muslim boys also - one was so religious that during Ramzan fasting he would not even swallow the saliva; the month of Ramzan then used to coincide with the hot months of April/May; he resided in Munisalai road, near our house in Rukmanipalayam 2nd Cross Street, and so we used to visit each other to exchange notes. Another friend is Gautham who was nicknamed Mahal Pillar-1 (for his size). [Thirumalai Naicker Mahal is a palace in Madurai, famous for its huge, white pillars] I leave it to your guess as to who was called Mahal Pillar-2! Some of the boys were from NOYES school and the rest of us used to make fun of them not to make 'noise'. As my father was transferred to another place, I had to leave the school and my friends with a heavy heart, immediately after classes began for the 9th standard. But I am not able to trace the multi-coloured autograph notebook that drooled with sentimental feelings of my classmates for three years.

About 40 years ago, the Mariamman Teppakulam (temple tank) area was a deserted one. The buses (of the private company TVS) that plied were 4, 4A and 6. There were not as many houses as there are now. The tank had water brimming up to the top step. Hence it was selected by many unfortunate souls to end their lives. An indelible memory is that of a man's bloated body; it was rumoured that he must have forced someone to tie both his hands and legs together and then jumped into the tank. Or was it a murder in the guise of suicide? The bend body was floating just opposite to the school gate and the stench was so strong that we could not have our lunch for a day or two. But now I was too shocked to see the bone-dry tank used as a cricket ground and also misused as an open toilet.

That only indicated that hard times are ahead and that we should be prepared to face challenges. But I would always like to have sweet memories of the school and of the tank full with water. Be positive, though my blood group is 'O' negative!
-.-

S. Balakrishnan
7/C-1 Sivan Kovil Street
Kodambakkam
Chennai - 600 024
krishnanbala2004@yahoo.co.in