During my long experiences in Governemnt and private schools, I have come across more problem parents than problem children. When a boy or girl scores hundred percent marks in a subject like mathematics, parents attribute it to their heridity. But when a child scores less marks, the teacher has to bear the brunt. This isthe attitude probelem.Some teachers are interested in getting their students good grades in their subbject. They do not encourage their students in other extracurricular activities. May be a boy excells in Art and Painting,the teachers will not encourage him. Instead they tell the child to concentrate in their subject and the art and painting is not going to help him in future.Therefore teachers must change their attitude towards the children and parents must change their attitude towards the teachers. Then only the developing countries can equal thier standard of
education to that of developed countries.
When I gave the topic "What you want to become when you grow up" as an essay writing project to the students of eighth standard Sections A B C D. Out of one hundred and sixty students( Boys and girls), some of the boys wrote that they want to become pilots.Some expressed the desire to become cricketers.Since one of his uncles is a famous surgeon, one boy wrote that he wanted to become one. Another boy from bussiness community wrote that he wants to become an Engineer but his parents want him to look after the family business. Most of the girl students wrote that they wanted to become hospital nurses to serve the community.Two girls were different.One wanted to become a school teacher ; the other wanted to become an astronmer like India born Williams of United states.
As parents we force our children to take up a profession which we wanted and failed to enter.
Take my own example. I wanted to be doctor of medicine but I could not. Therefore I wanted my daughter to go for medical college.
In the common enterance test, she qualified for both medical and engineering courses. My daughter chose to continue her studies in Environmental Engineering. I had to accept her decision with a pinch of salt. Now she is in USA well settled. I say to people that I am very proud of her.
Therefore I feel that we must leave the choice to our children and we should not impose our ideas on them.
Now a days children are well informed and they know what to become. Young people marcheS on.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Absentmindedness
My wife had left for her school an hour ago. I came out of the house. The door with automatic lock closed behind me. I went to my vehicle to go to my school. The key of the vehicle could not be found in any of my coat pockets. Then I realised that I had left the keybunch on the table. I forgot to take it along with me. Perhaps as I am growing old, I have become absentminded quite often nowadays. The other day I went to draw some money from ATM. I inserted the card and I could not carry out my transaction as I had forgotten the four digit pin number.
I returned from the school in the evening and waited for my wife to return, so that I could enter into my house as she had the master key Sitting in my jeep I started recollectting my college days.
We had an absentminded Professor. 0ne day he drove his car to a book shop. He parked his car on the parking lot and went into the book store. He purchased some books and hired a taxi to return home..He realised his mistake, only when his wife asked him whether he had given the car for repair.The Professor's story was told and retold by the students year after year.
Everyone added one of his imaginative incidents to make it interesting. I too did. My story,"0ne day the Professor went to the college and shocked to see all the classrooms locked.Then he realised that it was Sunday. Instead of going to the Chapel on the campus, he came to the classroom blocks."
My friend added another bit to it." Once the Professor went to see his wife off at the railwaystation. As he was forgetful, he gave his wife the plateform entry ticket and came out with the journey ticket".
In those days we used to enjoy such jokes at the cost of my Professor. We laughed at him. To-day when it happens to me, to be honest, I don't hesitate to laugh at my ownself.
…
I returned from the school in the evening and waited for my wife to return, so that I could enter into my house as she had the master key Sitting in my jeep I started recollectting my college days.
We had an absentminded Professor. 0ne day he drove his car to a book shop. He parked his car on the parking lot and went into the book store. He purchased some books and hired a taxi to return home..He realised his mistake, only when his wife asked him whether he had given the car for repair.The Professor's story was told and retold by the students year after year.
Everyone added one of his imaginative incidents to make it interesting. I too did. My story,"0ne day the Professor went to the college and shocked to see all the classrooms locked.Then he realised that it was Sunday. Instead of going to the Chapel on the campus, he came to the classroom blocks."
My friend added another bit to it." Once the Professor went to see his wife off at the railwaystation. As he was forgetful, he gave his wife the plateform entry ticket and came out with the journey ticket".
In those days we used to enjoy such jokes at the cost of my Professor. We laughed at him. To-day when it happens to me, to be honest, I don't hesitate to laugh at my ownself.
…
Sunday, November 29, 2009
TIME MANAGEMENT
We are aware of the proverbs and sayings- Time is Money,Time and Tide waits for no one.Time is precious. Time management is important in life and profession.Time management is learnt in school.We learnt to write the examination within an hour or two. Our training in school help us finish the task given to us on the prescribed time.Education imparts the most required knowledge of time management.We may be forced to attend too many tasks at the same time. At that time,We must decide upon the priorities. Suppose you face the problems of aleaking tap,fused tube light,leaking gas cylinder. Your first priority should be the laking gas cylinder repair. Other things can wait for a while.
We should not brood over the past.The English poet H.W. Longfellow in his poem,"Psalm of Life", says, "Trust no future;however pleasant, Let the past bury its dead; Act-act in the living Present;Heart within and God overhead".
Some people feel that it is boring to repeat the same thing every day.It is our attitude towards the work we do that creates fatigue. I will narrate a story I heard some time back. A student asked a vegetable sorter in the New York Super market whether he did not feel bored up sorting out cabbages every day. The worker told that he did not feel bored because he has been looking for two cabbages of the same size and colour.He could not find so far.This illustrates that if we take interest in our work, we will not feel bored.A friend of mine asked me whether I don't feel bored teaching English Grammar and Shakespearean plays year after year. I told him that the topics are the same but my students are different. Each year I teach a new set of students; therefore I don't feel bored.
English men are known for their punctuality. They knew the value of time and that's how they were able to rule the world and it was said that the sun never set in British Empire. I used to advise my students to be on time for all the activities of the school.'Be in the right time :in the right place and in the right dress', if you want to be successful in life.The most successful people in life are those who spend their time usefully.A well begun task is half done.Therefore, let us begin our task with interest, let us be focused and let us know our priorities as well, to succeed in life.
We should not brood over the past.The English poet H.W. Longfellow in his poem,"Psalm of Life", says, "Trust no future;however pleasant, Let the past bury its dead; Act-act in the living Present;Heart within and God overhead".
Some people feel that it is boring to repeat the same thing every day.It is our attitude towards the work we do that creates fatigue. I will narrate a story I heard some time back. A student asked a vegetable sorter in the New York Super market whether he did not feel bored up sorting out cabbages every day. The worker told that he did not feel bored because he has been looking for two cabbages of the same size and colour.He could not find so far.This illustrates that if we take interest in our work, we will not feel bored.A friend of mine asked me whether I don't feel bored teaching English Grammar and Shakespearean plays year after year. I told him that the topics are the same but my students are different. Each year I teach a new set of students; therefore I don't feel bored.
English men are known for their punctuality. They knew the value of time and that's how they were able to rule the world and it was said that the sun never set in British Empire. I used to advise my students to be on time for all the activities of the school.'Be in the right time :in the right place and in the right dress', if you want to be successful in life.The most successful people in life are those who spend their time usefully.A well begun task is half done.Therefore, let us begin our task with interest, let us be focused and let us know our priorities as well, to succeed in life.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The Musings of an unemployed
After graduation, I applied for a white collar job in private companies and Government Departments. Promptly they called me for a personal interview. But no where was I successful.I am happy about it. If I were successful in my first interview, I would not have had the opportunity of visiting so many cities of India. Whenever I was called for an interview, I used to contemplate whether to attend it or not as if it was invitation for a friend's wedding. But i never failed to attend any interview where ever it was held.As a result, I had been to Bombay,Delhi,Calcutta, Madras and Pndicheerry.I made it a point to see all the tourist places of the city when I went for interview. When I went to Delhi, I went to Agra to see the Taj Mahal one of the wonders of the world.
I had spent more money in typing application forms and attending interviews at far off places than I actually spent for my education.Therefore the debt to my uncle increased considerably as he was my financier.
Since I was unemployed( it is a curse to be unemployed in my part of the world) my grandmother asked me me to help her maintain the farm and the cattle shed.I agreed. I was supervising the cleaning of the cattle shed and farm work.
One day the Agriculture Assistant came to the farm to advise grandmother about the crop rotation and the use of proper manure for the crops. I was introduced to him. We became friends.Knowing that I was a graduate of English literature, he advised me. He said, "Since we can not get what we like, we must like what we get".He helped me to get a bank loan to establish Poultry in the farm.The poultry attracted snakes. Small birds became the easy pray for the rattle snakes. We avoided the entry of the snakes by digging snake pit around the poultry shed. But after a few days, the birds suffered from a strange disease.Since the agricultural assistant had gone on annual leave, I did not know what to do.The number of causalities increased day by day.As per my grandmother's advice, I decided to sell the remaining birds in the weekly market of the village. There I casually noticed that the tomatoes were sold at the rate of 2o/= rupees a kilo.I decided to cultivate tomatoes. When my friend came back from his long leave, I briefed him and also expressed my desire to cultivate tomatoes. He welcomed the idea.The place where I had poultry was selected for tomato cultivation. He helped me to get high breed seeds and nonoraganic manure. The tomato plants grew with utmost care and nourishment. I was a able to harvest nearly a hundred kilo of tomatoes. I was calculating my profit. Sine I had spent just two hundred rupees and the harvest would fetch about two thousand rupees. I was happy that I made a good harvest. I went to the market. To my horror the tomatoes were sold at Rupees two per kilo. You can calculate my profits.
I lost all my hope but the agricultural assisstant did not: because he is in the trade.He arranged a kitchen garden competition. My garden was adjudged the best.The Minister for agriculture who was on his election campaign in the area,gave away the award. The agricuture assistant arranged a meeting with the minister. I met him. I told him that I was unemployed graduate. He asked me to help him in his election campagin. The agriculture assistant told me that I would get some post in the agricuture department after the election.Since I did not have any experience in Public spaeking, I was asked to preside over all the election meetings. I had to speak a few words and requested the people to vote for the minister. I didmy my job wonderfully well.Unfortunately the minister and his party failed miserably in the elction. My dream of entering the agriculture department never came true.
Meanwhile the result of the interview I attended for the Governemnt job came as a bolt from the blue. I was employed in a defence school.
I had spent more money in typing application forms and attending interviews at far off places than I actually spent for my education.Therefore the debt to my uncle increased considerably as he was my financier.
Since I was unemployed( it is a curse to be unemployed in my part of the world) my grandmother asked me me to help her maintain the farm and the cattle shed.I agreed. I was supervising the cleaning of the cattle shed and farm work.
One day the Agriculture Assistant came to the farm to advise grandmother about the crop rotation and the use of proper manure for the crops. I was introduced to him. We became friends.Knowing that I was a graduate of English literature, he advised me. He said, "Since we can not get what we like, we must like what we get".He helped me to get a bank loan to establish Poultry in the farm.The poultry attracted snakes. Small birds became the easy pray for the rattle snakes. We avoided the entry of the snakes by digging snake pit around the poultry shed. But after a few days, the birds suffered from a strange disease.Since the agricultural assistant had gone on annual leave, I did not know what to do.The number of causalities increased day by day.As per my grandmother's advice, I decided to sell the remaining birds in the weekly market of the village. There I casually noticed that the tomatoes were sold at the rate of 2o/= rupees a kilo.I decided to cultivate tomatoes. When my friend came back from his long leave, I briefed him and also expressed my desire to cultivate tomatoes. He welcomed the idea.The place where I had poultry was selected for tomato cultivation. He helped me to get high breed seeds and nonoraganic manure. The tomato plants grew with utmost care and nourishment. I was a able to harvest nearly a hundred kilo of tomatoes. I was calculating my profit. Sine I had spent just two hundred rupees and the harvest would fetch about two thousand rupees. I was happy that I made a good harvest. I went to the market. To my horror the tomatoes were sold at Rupees two per kilo. You can calculate my profits.
I lost all my hope but the agricultural assisstant did not: because he is in the trade.He arranged a kitchen garden competition. My garden was adjudged the best.The Minister for agriculture who was on his election campaign in the area,gave away the award. The agricuture assistant arranged a meeting with the minister. I met him. I told him that I was unemployed graduate. He asked me to help him in his election campagin. The agriculture assistant told me that I would get some post in the agricuture department after the election.Since I did not have any experience in Public spaeking, I was asked to preside over all the election meetings. I had to speak a few words and requested the people to vote for the minister. I didmy my job wonderfully well.Unfortunately the minister and his party failed miserably in the elction. My dream of entering the agriculture department never came true.
Meanwhile the result of the interview I attended for the Governemnt job came as a bolt from the blue. I was employed in a defence school.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Grandmother of the village
I was born and brought up in a big city and after my graduation I got into a college as a Tutor in English. I was always busy with students composition notebooks correction work and occasionally I was teaching poetry. After my work I used to go for a game of tennis in the evenings. I used to discuss with my father the current affairs that we read in the newspaper. One day I received an invitation from my friend who had gone after college studies to his native village to look after the farm he had inherited. He had asked me to go over to the village during winter vacation to spend sometime with him.
I went to his farm, which was in a remote corner of an isolated village. I was happy to be there with the natural surroundings and far away from the madding crowd. I could breathe fresh air and there was no pollution of any kind, which I always experienced in the city. Living in the second floor of an apartment we always faced acute problem of scarcity of water. In his farm house water was plenty and I enjoyed taking bath in the pond. My only regret was that I did not see any daffodils, which William Wordsworth described so beautifully in his poem.
One fine morning I was sitting on a coir cot under the huge mango tree bearing flowers that was sprinkling honey all over the place. A few yards away from it was a big Jackfruit tree and it was a sight to see the fruits hanging right from the bottom trunk of the tree till the top 'The coconut trees were up to the sky and swaying beautifully. At a distance stood the country apple tree full of thorn and it was holding the weaverbirds' nests. It was a thrilling experience for me to be in the farm.
Meanwhile, a villager came in search of my friend and he told him that the grandmother of the village was dead. My friend told me to go with him to the house of the grandmother of the village. When I interrupted he told me that he would tell me everything in detail later on.
We parked our bike on the mud road and walked on the footpath that was in the middle of the green fields dotted by small and big mango and jackfruit trees. I saw a huge crowd of villagers in front of a small thatched roof house. Everyone recognized my friend. He introduced me to Rev Father Erhard from Evangelic Church. Secondly Mani Iyer, the temple priest and Mullah, the Mosque in-charge. The village headman came to talk to my friend and I introduced myself to him. The small fire kept in front of the thatched roof house to show that a death has taken place was letting out more of smoke than flame. The village drummers standing near by the fire beat rhythmically and very softly. There were oil lamps and candles kept by the side of the dead body, which was placed on plantain leaves. Someone in the crowd was paying rich tributes to the departed soul. I could see all religious heads of the village present. They were discussing about the funeral. They decided to cremate the body once her relatives from the nearby village arrived. I took a break and went to the mud road where we had parked our bike. I met an old woman in a hurry to go to the grandmother's house. I stopped her and told her that it would take at least two more hours before they took the body for cremation. After asking my whereabouts she was ready to tell me the story of the grandmother of the village." You know", she started in her own way of narration.
"Muthamma came to this village after marrying a farm worker of this place. But unfortunately she became a widow. She went back wearing the white sari. According to their customs wearing a white sari is a must and she will be looked down upon as a bad omen. After a year she came back and started living in her husband's hut. She was working in a farm as daily wageworker and stayed away from all the functions of the village since she was a widow and was forbidden by villagers to take part in any auspicious functions arranged in their house.
The village people only knew her merit when she attended a co-worker's delivery. She acted as a midwife. She also advised the lady and gave her some instructions to follow. People started to go and take her for delivery cases. She did it without any charge. People were so happy and as a token of gratitude gave her white saris and food materials for her service. Almost everyone born in this village for the last forty years was born under her supervision. The grateful village called her the Grandma of the village. She was only a farm worker but she used to help the village in many ways. Whenever a newborn child fell sick, she was there to help by giving medicines prepared with medicinal plants. The government staff planted trees on the roadside and went away. It was Muthamma who nourished the trees you are seeing on the main road. Now no one can fill her place". The old lady went away.
I started thinking about the great soul. She was not a politician; she was not a woman of letters, not a Government employee; not a rich lady but the entire village was there to do her last rites because she lived a purposeful life helping others at all times. The same people once reused her entry to their home functions now accepted her as their Grandmother. I realized how true it is the saying that it does not matter how long you live but how well you live helping others that matters in the end.
(K JAMBULINGAM)
I went to his farm, which was in a remote corner of an isolated village. I was happy to be there with the natural surroundings and far away from the madding crowd. I could breathe fresh air and there was no pollution of any kind, which I always experienced in the city. Living in the second floor of an apartment we always faced acute problem of scarcity of water. In his farm house water was plenty and I enjoyed taking bath in the pond. My only regret was that I did not see any daffodils, which William Wordsworth described so beautifully in his poem.
One fine morning I was sitting on a coir cot under the huge mango tree bearing flowers that was sprinkling honey all over the place. A few yards away from it was a big Jackfruit tree and it was a sight to see the fruits hanging right from the bottom trunk of the tree till the top 'The coconut trees were up to the sky and swaying beautifully. At a distance stood the country apple tree full of thorn and it was holding the weaverbirds' nests. It was a thrilling experience for me to be in the farm.
Meanwhile, a villager came in search of my friend and he told him that the grandmother of the village was dead. My friend told me to go with him to the house of the grandmother of the village. When I interrupted he told me that he would tell me everything in detail later on.
We parked our bike on the mud road and walked on the footpath that was in the middle of the green fields dotted by small and big mango and jackfruit trees. I saw a huge crowd of villagers in front of a small thatched roof house. Everyone recognized my friend. He introduced me to Rev Father Erhard from Evangelic Church. Secondly Mani Iyer, the temple priest and Mullah, the Mosque in-charge. The village headman came to talk to my friend and I introduced myself to him. The small fire kept in front of the thatched roof house to show that a death has taken place was letting out more of smoke than flame. The village drummers standing near by the fire beat rhythmically and very softly. There were oil lamps and candles kept by the side of the dead body, which was placed on plantain leaves. Someone in the crowd was paying rich tributes to the departed soul. I could see all religious heads of the village present. They were discussing about the funeral. They decided to cremate the body once her relatives from the nearby village arrived. I took a break and went to the mud road where we had parked our bike. I met an old woman in a hurry to go to the grandmother's house. I stopped her and told her that it would take at least two more hours before they took the body for cremation. After asking my whereabouts she was ready to tell me the story of the grandmother of the village." You know", she started in her own way of narration.
"Muthamma came to this village after marrying a farm worker of this place. But unfortunately she became a widow. She went back wearing the white sari. According to their customs wearing a white sari is a must and she will be looked down upon as a bad omen. After a year she came back and started living in her husband's hut. She was working in a farm as daily wageworker and stayed away from all the functions of the village since she was a widow and was forbidden by villagers to take part in any auspicious functions arranged in their house.
The village people only knew her merit when she attended a co-worker's delivery. She acted as a midwife. She also advised the lady and gave her some instructions to follow. People started to go and take her for delivery cases. She did it without any charge. People were so happy and as a token of gratitude gave her white saris and food materials for her service. Almost everyone born in this village for the last forty years was born under her supervision. The grateful village called her the Grandma of the village. She was only a farm worker but she used to help the village in many ways. Whenever a newborn child fell sick, she was there to help by giving medicines prepared with medicinal plants. The government staff planted trees on the roadside and went away. It was Muthamma who nourished the trees you are seeing on the main road. Now no one can fill her place". The old lady went away.
I started thinking about the great soul. She was not a politician; she was not a woman of letters, not a Government employee; not a rich lady but the entire village was there to do her last rites because she lived a purposeful life helping others at all times. The same people once reused her entry to their home functions now accepted her as their Grandmother. I realized how true it is the saying that it does not matter how long you live but how well you live helping others that matters in the end.
(K JAMBULINGAM)
Friday, October 23, 2009
BANGALORE ,THE CITY I LOVE TO LIVE
I am writing about the city I live in, Bangalore is one of the most beautiful cities of the world. Here you come across people of different religion and languages. They all live in harmony.Even the vegetable seller speaks English. The climate is always cool like the inhabitants of the city.It is known as the garden city of India. The Cubbon park and the Lal Bagh are the plces most frequently visited by the tourists. The magnifiicent buildings of British days even to-day add beauty to the city. Even though some of theses buildings have been brought down to raise apartments.If you go up to picture the school or church you can see only green patches. In no other city the tourist feel at home with the natives. Everyone speaks more than two languages.People the Kannadicas are very friendly and peace loving. The food is very delicious.You don't have to argue with the auto rickshaw drivers, because every auto is fixed with meter and you need not pay more than the reading. This is not found in any other city in India.Thanks to the colonial rule the city has many hospitals established by them. In the colony where I live, you can see people from all over India and they speak different languages and they belong to different religions.An outsider will not feel that he is in a different country because people are so helpful and friendly.There are plenty of ammusing parks and National parks. For the wild life enthusiasts plenty in store.You drive twenty Kilometers and you are in forest area.I love my city.
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Thursday, October 22, 2009
A Family of Dog Lovers
A FAMILY OF DOG LOVERS
. During my childhood we were living in a remote corner of an isolated village and the only companions to play with children were two dogs. The dogs guarded the sheep from the wolves that made frequent visits to our farms from the hillock that separated us from the main village whose inhabitants were a few hundred in number and most of them weavers. The dogs followed us during our hunt for birds in the woods and swam with us in the near by stream which was fed mainly by rainwater and most of the time it was dry and remained our play field. We used to play there with our dogs named Caesar and Tiger.
When I grew up, to keep my childhood memories green, I bought a dog and named him Caesar. He became friendly with everyone at home and my children played with him as we did during our childhood. The only difference was that we were in a village but my children were brought up in a military campus in Bangalore city.
When we went to our native village during my annual leave, we took Caesar with us. He adjusted to the new surroundings and played with the sheep. At that time we were invited for a wedding in 0oty. We took Caesar along with us in car. We planned to leave him in the farm of our family friend and wanted to take him home on our return journey. The wedding was over. I t was midnight when we reached my friend’s farm. We did not want to disturb my friend so we returned home. I was planning to go and bring Caesar the next evening. But Caesar made his appearance at our farm around noon. We were surprised and we phoned my friend and enquired. He told us that he was howling the whole night and in the early morning he jumped out of the fence and ran away. When we told that Caesar had already reached our farm, my friend did not believe us. Who would believe that he had covered a distance of seventeen kilometers? He had the amazing power of smell. My children used to make him smell the handkerchief and they would hide it in their secret place. But Caesar never failed to find the handkerchief. We returned to Bangalore with Caesar and our children.
Hearing about the home coming episode of Caesar, my friend wanted to exchange his German shepherd for Caesar, knowing fully well that Caesar was an ordinary breed. We did not agree to send Caesar anywhere.
It was summer and the number of stray dogs on the campus increased. They bit two of the inmates. We summoned the corporation authorities. They failed to trap them. Therefore the commandant summoned gunners from the grenadiers. Two gunmen came and shot a number of stray dogs. The howling of the dying dogs made Caesar to jump out of the five feet high compound wall of my house. Unknowingly he was also shot dead. That is how I lost a pet dog named Caesar. The irony of the situation was that I had to invite the gunners for lunch, as I was the Mess Commander
My daughter in USA has kept our family tradition alive as she has a Saint Bernard as her pet. After all we are dog-loving people!
. During my childhood we were living in a remote corner of an isolated village and the only companions to play with children were two dogs. The dogs guarded the sheep from the wolves that made frequent visits to our farms from the hillock that separated us from the main village whose inhabitants were a few hundred in number and most of them weavers. The dogs followed us during our hunt for birds in the woods and swam with us in the near by stream which was fed mainly by rainwater and most of the time it was dry and remained our play field. We used to play there with our dogs named Caesar and Tiger.
When I grew up, to keep my childhood memories green, I bought a dog and named him Caesar. He became friendly with everyone at home and my children played with him as we did during our childhood. The only difference was that we were in a village but my children were brought up in a military campus in Bangalore city.
When we went to our native village during my annual leave, we took Caesar with us. He adjusted to the new surroundings and played with the sheep. At that time we were invited for a wedding in 0oty. We took Caesar along with us in car. We planned to leave him in the farm of our family friend and wanted to take him home on our return journey. The wedding was over. I t was midnight when we reached my friend’s farm. We did not want to disturb my friend so we returned home. I was planning to go and bring Caesar the next evening. But Caesar made his appearance at our farm around noon. We were surprised and we phoned my friend and enquired. He told us that he was howling the whole night and in the early morning he jumped out of the fence and ran away. When we told that Caesar had already reached our farm, my friend did not believe us. Who would believe that he had covered a distance of seventeen kilometers? He had the amazing power of smell. My children used to make him smell the handkerchief and they would hide it in their secret place. But Caesar never failed to find the handkerchief. We returned to Bangalore with Caesar and our children.
Hearing about the home coming episode of Caesar, my friend wanted to exchange his German shepherd for Caesar, knowing fully well that Caesar was an ordinary breed. We did not agree to send Caesar anywhere.
It was summer and the number of stray dogs on the campus increased. They bit two of the inmates. We summoned the corporation authorities. They failed to trap them. Therefore the commandant summoned gunners from the grenadiers. Two gunmen came and shot a number of stray dogs. The howling of the dying dogs made Caesar to jump out of the five feet high compound wall of my house. Unknowingly he was also shot dead. That is how I lost a pet dog named Caesar. The irony of the situation was that I had to invite the gunners for lunch, as I was the Mess Commander
My daughter in USA has kept our family tradition alive as she has a Saint Bernard as her pet. After all we are dog-loving people!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
BEGGARS IN TRAIN
Beggars in Trains
I entered the S 9 compartment of the Super fast Intercity Express bound for
Coimbatore.The train was jam-packed with holiday crowds. My co passengers were college students .They were on study tour to 0oty. Every one of them had cell phone and the earphones were either plugged into their cell phones or I Pods.
0n several occasions while traveling by train I had come across different types of beggars. They are different from those at cross road signal and temple entrances. I have seen many women with infants in their arms begging at the cross road signals. When you travel in air-conditioned vehicles, they tap the door and when you open the window, you see these women. You tend to close the window by operating the automatic switch. When the glass pane goes up you hear the last words of abuse for not giving alms.
The train compartment beggars are different altogether. I am not exaggerating. Once I saw a young man was cleaning the rubbish thrown all over the floor by the passengers who threw all the wrappers of chockletes and left over foodstuff in plastic cover under their seats. When the cleaning was done to the entire satisfaction of the passengers, he asked for money. Every one contributed.
As usual a one eyed beggar made his appearance. He started singing. The college students first made fun of him and after a while they asked him to sing songs of their choice. 0f course they paid him money good enough for his meals. The beggar made his exit hurriedly after seeing the security guards. The special security guards were posted in every train for the safety of the passengers. Two of them stayed in the compartment. There were more of them in the other compartments.
One of the students went to charge her cell phone at the electric plug points provided in each compartments. She came back and told me that a bag was lying near the door . She confirmed that she was able to hear tick-tick sound from the bag.
I became alert remembering Rajadhani Express blast I had seen on TV a few days ago. I knew about the King Circle Station story from BBC.
The guards were alerted. They pulled the chain and stopped the train. The passengers were asked to get out of the train with their luggage. The entire area was filled with tension and unknown fear. Passengers took shelter under a huge tree far away from the train. The bag that contained the suspected time bomb was in the same place unattended.
The Railway Protection Force came with the bomb removal squad. They were working out a plan to deal with the situation
Meanwhile a beggar got in to the compartment and went away with the bag, which created such a commotion. Eagle eyed policemen caught him by his collars. They opened the bag. There were two empty coco cola bottles and an alarm timepiece.
People heaved a sigh of relief and I confirm that the train beggars are not terrorists. We have to rehabilitate/educate them some day.
I entered the S 9 compartment of the Super fast Intercity Express bound for
Coimbatore.The train was jam-packed with holiday crowds. My co passengers were college students .They were on study tour to 0oty. Every one of them had cell phone and the earphones were either plugged into their cell phones or I Pods.
0n several occasions while traveling by train I had come across different types of beggars. They are different from those at cross road signal and temple entrances. I have seen many women with infants in their arms begging at the cross road signals. When you travel in air-conditioned vehicles, they tap the door and when you open the window, you see these women. You tend to close the window by operating the automatic switch. When the glass pane goes up you hear the last words of abuse for not giving alms.
The train compartment beggars are different altogether. I am not exaggerating. Once I saw a young man was cleaning the rubbish thrown all over the floor by the passengers who threw all the wrappers of chockletes and left over foodstuff in plastic cover under their seats. When the cleaning was done to the entire satisfaction of the passengers, he asked for money. Every one contributed.
As usual a one eyed beggar made his appearance. He started singing. The college students first made fun of him and after a while they asked him to sing songs of their choice. 0f course they paid him money good enough for his meals. The beggar made his exit hurriedly after seeing the security guards. The special security guards were posted in every train for the safety of the passengers. Two of them stayed in the compartment. There were more of them in the other compartments.
One of the students went to charge her cell phone at the electric plug points provided in each compartments. She came back and told me that a bag was lying near the door . She confirmed that she was able to hear tick-tick sound from the bag.
I became alert remembering Rajadhani Express blast I had seen on TV a few days ago. I knew about the King Circle Station story from BBC.
The guards were alerted. They pulled the chain and stopped the train. The passengers were asked to get out of the train with their luggage. The entire area was filled with tension and unknown fear. Passengers took shelter under a huge tree far away from the train. The bag that contained the suspected time bomb was in the same place unattended.
The Railway Protection Force came with the bomb removal squad. They were working out a plan to deal with the situation
Meanwhile a beggar got in to the compartment and went away with the bag, which created such a commotion. Eagle eyed policemen caught him by his collars. They opened the bag. There were two empty coco cola bottles and an alarm timepiece.
People heaved a sigh of relief and I confirm that the train beggars are not terrorists. We have to rehabilitate/educate them some day.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
ATTITUDE
I reported for duty in the new unit. I was accommodated in the Unit Guest House temporarily. The guest house was built in the year 1900. The double roofed building had magnificent glass windows and wooden floorings. I found an old bath tub made in England, in the bathroom. The ventilators were fifteen feet above the windows. The circular shaped ventilator at the centre of the hall was more than twenty feet high. It could be opened and closed with the help of a cotton rope that was tied to it. The Guest House was used by the British officers as their club in those days. Even after the British officers left, the guest house was kept in apple pie order to accommodate inspecting officers and VIPs visiting the unit.
The outgoing officer handed over the mess and explained the duties that would be performed by me. I invited my predecessor for dinner at the guest house. After a couple of drinks he briefed me of the civilian employees of the mess. He mentioned a table waiter. He described him as a pain in the neck. He advised me to deal with him carefully. It was late in the night and we bid each other goodnight.
.
The next day, I went to the mess office. I sent for the waiter. He entered my office with a tea tray. The milk, sugar and tea decoction kept separately. The way he served tea was impressive. I asked him about his roots casually. He told me that he hailed from Madras and his family stayed with his aged parents. I asked him whether he would like to ask for a transfer to one of the units in Madras, so that he could stay with his family. He did not answer my question.
He made a remark about the milk when mixed it into the cup. He told me that the milk had been burnt due to over boiling and that that was not the first time the cook was careless. 0nce before he was marked absent for duty and his pay was deducted from his salary. I did not take notice of his remark.
All the same, I asked the cook whether everything was ok. He told me that the milk was slightly over boiled and he added some cardamom to the tea and then mixed batham powder and served. I asked the cadets whether the breakfast was alright. They were happy to get batham milk.
The readers may wonder how a table waiter could have an upper hand. Since he was one of the senior most waiters, he was detailed to serve tea to the visiting dignitaries at the commandant's office. He came in contact with the commandant more often than I. The commandant used to call him by his name. He could tell tales about the mess to him.
Monthly inspection of the unit doctor had passed without remarks. Even the medical officer advised me to be careful with the waiter. He had told him that the surroundings were always dirty and we had cleaned it for his inspection. I remembered my predecessor's remark that he was a pain in the neck.
After a few days the messenger brought a slip from the commandant. He had asked me to see him in his office when I was free. I was sure of facing the guns. I went in immediately .Before entering his office; I looked at the large mirror kept on the verandah to make sure my uniform was in order. On the mirror it was written, “Am I looking smart”. He switched on the red-light above the entrance door to indicate that no one should enter the room He offered me a seat. Usually he wouldn’t offer a seat unless he had something important to discuss.
He asked me whether I had enough ladles in the kitchen. I did not answer. He told me that what he meant was whether I had enough spoons with long handles. He told me that he had come to know from reliable sources that the cooks used the same ladle to stir the vegetarian and non-vegetarian dishes. I tried to answer. He raised his voice and told me that he was going to deal with iron hand if that was proved. I thought that I was caught on wrong foot. I felt an earth quake under my chair.
He called the adjutant over the intercom. He came in. The commandant asked him to carry out the inspection of the mess and report to him whether there were enough ladles and why the same ladle was used to stir the vegetarian and non-vegetarian dishes. I was asked to wait in the visitors’ room till he came back.
Sitting in the visitors’ room I started imagining so many things. I was sure that higher caste cadets who were vegetarians would take it as an insult if they had known what had happened in the kitchen. The Commandant himself a vegetarian would not tolerate either. I thought of the Sepoy mutiny that resulted due to the Introduction of Enfield Rifles whose cartridges were greased with cow and pork fat. Vegetarian soldiers refused to handle the weapon. It caused a lot of problems for the British Indian Army.
The adjutant came back after half an hour.
I was called in but I was not given a seat. The adjutant and I were standing in front of the commandant. The adjutant reported that there were enough ladles in the kitchen and he could not confirm whether the same ladle was used to stir vegetarian and non-vegetarian dishes. The report was the saving grace. I heaved a sigh of relief. The commandant asked me to be more vigilant. I left his office more confused.
I called the head cook and told him what had happened in the office of the commandant. He said,” Sir, this is the handiwork of the waiter. You must take some action against him”.
I knew that I could not take any action since he was close to the commandant. I was waiting for the right opportunity.
The Annual Inspection of the unit was carried out. The inspecting officer from Head quarters asked me to meet him in the guest house. I met him. He was highly appreciative of the mess working. He asked whether anything I wanted him to do for the mess. I mustered enough courage and told him about the problematic waiter and requested him for his transfer.
He stood up and starred at me. He said,” What type of officer are you? You want to pass on the problem to some one else. My dear young man, you have a long way to go. You must learn to help your subordinates and not to paint an ugly picture of them. I have never written an adverse report to my under officers. I never hesitated to recommend them for accecelarated promotion when they really deserved. Remember “What you sow, that you reap”. You must know that no one is perfect in the world. Do you catch my point?”
After his sermon, I felt that no one would help me to get out of my crisis.
Another year passed with many complaints fabricated against my mess staff and me. That year’s Annual Inspection was over. The inspecting officer asked me to meet him in the guest house. I met him. I sought his permission to talk about one of my employees. He nodded his head in approval.
I said,” Sir, one of the waiters has a problem. His family is staying with his aged parents. He has grown up daughters to be married. If you could transfer him to any one of the units in Madras”. I stopped to study his reaction.
He told me that no problem was new to him. He said that he was very happy to see that I had changed my attitude towards my subordinates. He asked me to forward the waiter’s dossier.
The waiter was transferred. The mess staff and I had good night sleep till another waiter sprang up in that place.
In the service it was all common. I had learnt to grin and bear it.
________________________________________
.
________________________________________
The outgoing officer handed over the mess and explained the duties that would be performed by me. I invited my predecessor for dinner at the guest house. After a couple of drinks he briefed me of the civilian employees of the mess. He mentioned a table waiter. He described him as a pain in the neck. He advised me to deal with him carefully. It was late in the night and we bid each other goodnight.
.
The next day, I went to the mess office. I sent for the waiter. He entered my office with a tea tray. The milk, sugar and tea decoction kept separately. The way he served tea was impressive. I asked him about his roots casually. He told me that he hailed from Madras and his family stayed with his aged parents. I asked him whether he would like to ask for a transfer to one of the units in Madras, so that he could stay with his family. He did not answer my question.
He made a remark about the milk when mixed it into the cup. He told me that the milk had been burnt due to over boiling and that that was not the first time the cook was careless. 0nce before he was marked absent for duty and his pay was deducted from his salary. I did not take notice of his remark.
All the same, I asked the cook whether everything was ok. He told me that the milk was slightly over boiled and he added some cardamom to the tea and then mixed batham powder and served. I asked the cadets whether the breakfast was alright. They were happy to get batham milk.
The readers may wonder how a table waiter could have an upper hand. Since he was one of the senior most waiters, he was detailed to serve tea to the visiting dignitaries at the commandant's office. He came in contact with the commandant more often than I. The commandant used to call him by his name. He could tell tales about the mess to him.
Monthly inspection of the unit doctor had passed without remarks. Even the medical officer advised me to be careful with the waiter. He had told him that the surroundings were always dirty and we had cleaned it for his inspection. I remembered my predecessor's remark that he was a pain in the neck.
After a few days the messenger brought a slip from the commandant. He had asked me to see him in his office when I was free. I was sure of facing the guns. I went in immediately .Before entering his office; I looked at the large mirror kept on the verandah to make sure my uniform was in order. On the mirror it was written, “Am I looking smart”. He switched on the red-light above the entrance door to indicate that no one should enter the room He offered me a seat. Usually he wouldn’t offer a seat unless he had something important to discuss.
He asked me whether I had enough ladles in the kitchen. I did not answer. He told me that what he meant was whether I had enough spoons with long handles. He told me that he had come to know from reliable sources that the cooks used the same ladle to stir the vegetarian and non-vegetarian dishes. I tried to answer. He raised his voice and told me that he was going to deal with iron hand if that was proved. I thought that I was caught on wrong foot. I felt an earth quake under my chair.
He called the adjutant over the intercom. He came in. The commandant asked him to carry out the inspection of the mess and report to him whether there were enough ladles and why the same ladle was used to stir the vegetarian and non-vegetarian dishes. I was asked to wait in the visitors’ room till he came back.
Sitting in the visitors’ room I started imagining so many things. I was sure that higher caste cadets who were vegetarians would take it as an insult if they had known what had happened in the kitchen. The Commandant himself a vegetarian would not tolerate either. I thought of the Sepoy mutiny that resulted due to the Introduction of Enfield Rifles whose cartridges were greased with cow and pork fat. Vegetarian soldiers refused to handle the weapon. It caused a lot of problems for the British Indian Army.
The adjutant came back after half an hour.
I was called in but I was not given a seat. The adjutant and I were standing in front of the commandant. The adjutant reported that there were enough ladles in the kitchen and he could not confirm whether the same ladle was used to stir vegetarian and non-vegetarian dishes. The report was the saving grace. I heaved a sigh of relief. The commandant asked me to be more vigilant. I left his office more confused.
I called the head cook and told him what had happened in the office of the commandant. He said,” Sir, this is the handiwork of the waiter. You must take some action against him”.
I knew that I could not take any action since he was close to the commandant. I was waiting for the right opportunity.
The Annual Inspection of the unit was carried out. The inspecting officer from Head quarters asked me to meet him in the guest house. I met him. He was highly appreciative of the mess working. He asked whether anything I wanted him to do for the mess. I mustered enough courage and told him about the problematic waiter and requested him for his transfer.
He stood up and starred at me. He said,” What type of officer are you? You want to pass on the problem to some one else. My dear young man, you have a long way to go. You must learn to help your subordinates and not to paint an ugly picture of them. I have never written an adverse report to my under officers. I never hesitated to recommend them for accecelarated promotion when they really deserved. Remember “What you sow, that you reap”. You must know that no one is perfect in the world. Do you catch my point?”
After his sermon, I felt that no one would help me to get out of my crisis.
Another year passed with many complaints fabricated against my mess staff and me. That year’s Annual Inspection was over. The inspecting officer asked me to meet him in the guest house. I met him. I sought his permission to talk about one of my employees. He nodded his head in approval.
I said,” Sir, one of the waiters has a problem. His family is staying with his aged parents. He has grown up daughters to be married. If you could transfer him to any one of the units in Madras”. I stopped to study his reaction.
He told me that no problem was new to him. He said that he was very happy to see that I had changed my attitude towards my subordinates. He asked me to forward the waiter’s dossier.
The waiter was transferred. The mess staff and I had good night sleep till another waiter sprang up in that place.
In the service it was all common. I had learnt to grin and bear it.
________________________________________
.
________________________________________
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
MY HERO
In this blog I am writing about my Principal under whom I worked. I have learnt so many things from him. Before joining the Ministry of defence school known as King George School he studied in Rangoon University. As a fresh graduate with an honours he came to India during the pre-independant days and worked as lecturer in Rajkumar College Raipur. A prestitious institute where he taught the Princes of India. Then he joined defence school King George School in Belgaum and brought a sea cahnge in the curriculum. In 1970 he was posted to Bangalore school and I was working under/with him.
The first meeting with him was at the School Assembly. He read the Prayer with full of life and then I understaood how the prayer should be read with correct pauses and with diction and clarity.He made an announcement that there after no body should say "He is working under somebody but must say that he is working with some body." His contention was that we are all working under the supreme power, the God..He never followed any particular religion. He joined in the celebrations of all religious festivals. He never ate his lunch alone. He always invited som one to eat with him. For him no problem was new. He used to sort out with out any delay.When some one complained about his sub ordinates, he advised the superior officer to do a good turn, he should hesitate to do harm to somone one and to post pone the action for some more time. Acording to him that no one was an angel.
0ne day when we were returning from the military mess well over midnight, we had to go by an autorikshaw, because he told his driver to take the car and go home.He never wanted his driver to wait for him till the close of the party.When we reached the school gate,by the hired vehicle, he gave the driver a hundred rupee note. The drver told that he didi not have change to return. My hero told him to keep the balance of eighty Rupees. Not only that he pulled out his Kashmir woolen jersey and gave him. The auto driver was stunned.
When he retired, he went and served an 0rphanage till his death.My hero is a rare kind to find.
The first meeting with him was at the School Assembly. He read the Prayer with full of life and then I understaood how the prayer should be read with correct pauses and with diction and clarity.He made an announcement that there after no body should say "He is working under somebody but must say that he is working with some body." His contention was that we are all working under the supreme power, the God..He never followed any particular religion. He joined in the celebrations of all religious festivals. He never ate his lunch alone. He always invited som one to eat with him. For him no problem was new. He used to sort out with out any delay.When some one complained about his sub ordinates, he advised the superior officer to do a good turn, he should hesitate to do harm to somone one and to post pone the action for some more time. Acording to him that no one was an angel.
0ne day when we were returning from the military mess well over midnight, we had to go by an autorikshaw, because he told his driver to take the car and go home.He never wanted his driver to wait for him till the close of the party.When we reached the school gate,by the hired vehicle, he gave the driver a hundred rupee note. The drver told that he didi not have change to return. My hero told him to keep the balance of eighty Rupees. Not only that he pulled out his Kashmir woolen jersey and gave him. The auto driver was stunned.
When he retired, he went and served an 0rphanage till his death.My hero is a rare kind to find.
Friday, September 11, 2009
MAN OF THE WEEK
I was on the staff of a well known Television channel. My Programme Director had allotted duties for our unit. We had to go and interview some one for "The Man of the Week", programme. Our unit comprising of a camera woman and her assistant and myself with my recording assistant left for the village to record the interview of the school master who had been honoured with the "Best Teacher" award by the Madras State Government .
We reached the remote village after a tedious journey by train and car. It was not difficult for us to find the school as it was on the main road. It was difficult to find the headmaster of Elementary School, Thuduppathy. Whe we enter the school we were told that the headmaster was attending the morning assembly and after a while we were asked to wait in the visitor's room as the headmaster has gone round to the class rooms. We were asked to go to the Headmaster's room. At last the headmaster came in. I was surprised to see him. He was none but my classmate in Madras Christian College. We did recognize each other at first sight. Ram and I were close friends.
Ram and I were in the same class and in the same room in St Thomas hall. In those days Ram used to be a hero. He was a well-dressed young man and had many girl friends around him. He was keeping a Royal Enfield Motor Cycle where as others kept bicycle to go out. He used to wear modern dress and was behaving like a prince. It was since fifteen years we had left the college and I thought he had gone to England for Higher Studies. I struggled here and there and found a job in the newly started TV channel.
Interview started. Usual questions and answers were over. My Assistants were busy packing their equipments. Ram and I went into the adjoining room to talk our personal matters. I asked Ram how he came and settled in this remote village? He told me that after leaving the college had some problem as his father died of cancer. He did not have a job. Some distant relative suggested this school. In those days it was a private school and over the years the Govt had taken over. Ram became the head of this school. He was conducting Night classes for the villagers who were illiterate and helped them in getting bank loan for Agriculture development and house building. He told me that he had helped an unemployed graduate in setting up a poultry farm.. The Govt recognized all the volunteer services he did for the people therefore honoured him.
0n our way back I told my camera woman, "Where ever we are and what ever be our position we must have the heart to help others then and then only honours will come to us". She smiled in approval of it.
We reached the remote village after a tedious journey by train and car. It was not difficult for us to find the school as it was on the main road. It was difficult to find the headmaster of Elementary School, Thuduppathy. Whe we enter the school we were told that the headmaster was attending the morning assembly and after a while we were asked to wait in the visitor's room as the headmaster has gone round to the class rooms. We were asked to go to the Headmaster's room. At last the headmaster came in. I was surprised to see him. He was none but my classmate in Madras Christian College. We did recognize each other at first sight. Ram and I were close friends.
Ram and I were in the same class and in the same room in St Thomas hall. In those days Ram used to be a hero. He was a well-dressed young man and had many girl friends around him. He was keeping a Royal Enfield Motor Cycle where as others kept bicycle to go out. He used to wear modern dress and was behaving like a prince. It was since fifteen years we had left the college and I thought he had gone to England for Higher Studies. I struggled here and there and found a job in the newly started TV channel.
Interview started. Usual questions and answers were over. My Assistants were busy packing their equipments. Ram and I went into the adjoining room to talk our personal matters. I asked Ram how he came and settled in this remote village? He told me that after leaving the college had some problem as his father died of cancer. He did not have a job. Some distant relative suggested this school. In those days it was a private school and over the years the Govt had taken over. Ram became the head of this school. He was conducting Night classes for the villagers who were illiterate and helped them in getting bank loan for Agriculture development and house building. He told me that he had helped an unemployed graduate in setting up a poultry farm.. The Govt recognized all the volunteer services he did for the people therefore honoured him.
0n our way back I told my camera woman, "Where ever we are and what ever be our position we must have the heart to help others then and then only honours will come to us". She smiled in approval of it.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A TRIBUTE TO THE PROFESSOR
No one will deny that school and college days are most enjoyable and unforgettable. Can you afford to forget your spectacled history teacher or the absentminded professor?
Whenever I met our college mates we always gratefully remembered our Professors and the chapel and the English principal.
Our English professor Mr. Smith was our Hostel Warden also. He was of course absentminded. But the stories about him were handed over by one generation to another. One of the stories ran like this. 0nce Professor Smith drove his Hillman car from Tambaram to Mount Road - a distance of 20 miles. He parked his car in the parking lot and got into the Higginbotham Book store. He purchased a few books and stationery. He came out and called a taxi and went to the nearest Electric train station and reached Tamabaram. He remembered about his car only when his wife asked him whether he had left it with the mechanic.
The second story was more interesting .0nce Professor went to Madras central station to see his wife off. He purchased a Platform entry ticket for himself and a journey ticket for his wife. When he came out of the station he was shocked to see the journey ticket in his pocket and the platform entry ticket was handed over to his wife.
I remember with gratefulness my Professor for he made a man of me. If only had he not spared me, I would not have completed my graduation.
It all happened during the festival of lights-Deepavali. People were celebrating the festival with pomous sounds and lights. We were asked to burst crackers in the playground. Some of my juniors were bursting crackers. Since it was dinnertime I went to the Mess. When I came out of the mess the lights went off. There was pitch darkness on the campus. At a distance I could see the flickering light coming out of the chapel. I walked towards the chapel. Someone had kept a candle at the parapet wall. I took the candle and walked a few step and fell at the rope that was connecting the Austrian bell hanging at a height of 20 feet high tower. I got angry and set fire to the rope. It was not set to flame but all the same it started letting out smoke and slowly going up. I hurriedly made my exit. I told my roommate about this. Freddy got a shock of his life. He told me that we must put out the fire somehow otherwise I would land in trouble. We went to the chapel. By the time the flint had gone more than ten feet. We could not save the rope. We returned to our room to spend a sleepless night.
It was dawn as usual but the sound of the bell was not heard. The news spread like forest fire. Freddy told me to go and confess to the warden. I did confess. But neither did he speak a word nor he showed a sign of anger. My personal file was brought. My warden had a look at it. He asked his clerk to send a letter to my guardian and a copy to those who have vouched for my character and conduct when they had signed in my application for admission in the college. The bursar was called to assess the damage.
After a week, my grandfather accompanied by Rev Gerhard made his appearance on the campus. Meanwhile I was put under the care of my senior so that I would not run away from college. Who ever I met told me to be ready to go to gallows. Dismissal was enevitable and I would not get admission in any other college if the college confirmed my character and conduct were poor.
My grandfather and Rev Gerhard met the warden in his house. The matter was discussed threadbare. The warden asked my grandfather to pay a sum of Rupees two hundred (Which was a great sum in those days) towards the cost of the rope that they had replaced. The warden told his clerk to make mention of this incident in my dossier and to issue me a warning. My grandfather said that the punishment given to him was more than that of mine. My grandfather asked me to ring the chapel bell for a week.
My warden and Professor laughed it away. I rang the chapel bell for a week. I am a School teacher now.
KJambulingam
Whenever I met our college mates we always gratefully remembered our Professors and the chapel and the English principal.
Our English professor Mr. Smith was our Hostel Warden also. He was of course absentminded. But the stories about him were handed over by one generation to another. One of the stories ran like this. 0nce Professor Smith drove his Hillman car from Tambaram to Mount Road - a distance of 20 miles. He parked his car in the parking lot and got into the Higginbotham Book store. He purchased a few books and stationery. He came out and called a taxi and went to the nearest Electric train station and reached Tamabaram. He remembered about his car only when his wife asked him whether he had left it with the mechanic.
The second story was more interesting .0nce Professor went to Madras central station to see his wife off. He purchased a Platform entry ticket for himself and a journey ticket for his wife. When he came out of the station he was shocked to see the journey ticket in his pocket and the platform entry ticket was handed over to his wife.
I remember with gratefulness my Professor for he made a man of me. If only had he not spared me, I would not have completed my graduation.
It all happened during the festival of lights-Deepavali. People were celebrating the festival with pomous sounds and lights. We were asked to burst crackers in the playground. Some of my juniors were bursting crackers. Since it was dinnertime I went to the Mess. When I came out of the mess the lights went off. There was pitch darkness on the campus. At a distance I could see the flickering light coming out of the chapel. I walked towards the chapel. Someone had kept a candle at the parapet wall. I took the candle and walked a few step and fell at the rope that was connecting the Austrian bell hanging at a height of 20 feet high tower. I got angry and set fire to the rope. It was not set to flame but all the same it started letting out smoke and slowly going up. I hurriedly made my exit. I told my roommate about this. Freddy got a shock of his life. He told me that we must put out the fire somehow otherwise I would land in trouble. We went to the chapel. By the time the flint had gone more than ten feet. We could not save the rope. We returned to our room to spend a sleepless night.
It was dawn as usual but the sound of the bell was not heard. The news spread like forest fire. Freddy told me to go and confess to the warden. I did confess. But neither did he speak a word nor he showed a sign of anger. My personal file was brought. My warden had a look at it. He asked his clerk to send a letter to my guardian and a copy to those who have vouched for my character and conduct when they had signed in my application for admission in the college. The bursar was called to assess the damage.
After a week, my grandfather accompanied by Rev Gerhard made his appearance on the campus. Meanwhile I was put under the care of my senior so that I would not run away from college. Who ever I met told me to be ready to go to gallows. Dismissal was enevitable and I would not get admission in any other college if the college confirmed my character and conduct were poor.
My grandfather and Rev Gerhard met the warden in his house. The matter was discussed threadbare. The warden asked my grandfather to pay a sum of Rupees two hundred (Which was a great sum in those days) towards the cost of the rope that they had replaced. The warden told his clerk to make mention of this incident in my dossier and to issue me a warning. My grandfather said that the punishment given to him was more than that of mine. My grandfather asked me to ring the chapel bell for a week.
My warden and Professor laughed it away. I rang the chapel bell for a week. I am a School teacher now.
KJambulingam
Sunday, September 6, 2009
BEING A HOUSE WIFE
When I met a parent during Teacher- Parents meeting she told that her housband is a bussiness man and she is just a housewife. There is no need to hestitate to tell that you are a housewife. You are the house manager. Around you all the activities of the family moves. You walk more distance than any working woman. Consider the number of times you walk from the kitchen and the drawing room. How many times you walk from kitchen to open the door. If you feel that you are spending the time simply. Here are some suggestions. You maintain a diary. It is a difficult task but you have to take the trouble of writing every day for a week. Then you read it.You will be happy to know how you solved so many problems.The problems of leaking water tap, electricity failure. How you talked to the class teacher of your child when you were summoned. Still you feel you are simply a house wife, you can try your hand in writing comments about the TV programmes you see. You can even write to the editor of the newspaper about the bad condition of roads in your area. Gone are those days when women were considered only house wives. Now woman is the guide, philsopher and friend to all the members of the family.How many housemanagers agree with me ? Please write your comments.
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