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.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
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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