MEMOIRS BETWEEN '78 TO '84.

(Saby's memoir #2)

I have very little memories of my first day in school, but it goes back to a time in 12/77 when I remember my dad and mom very energetically buying 6 white shirts, pants, sweaters, blankets and writing down my name on all of them and very proudly sending me off to a missionary boarding school in Asansol.

Here I must admit that pride and its consequence of St Vincent's lies very deeply in the social atmosphere in which we lived during that time. In that place which now houses the Calcutta electric supply corporation's ( CESC) power generating plant, used to be some residential houses where families lived , and they all sent their children to boarding schools. So, my dad had a long time desire to see his only son go to a similar place.

Anyways, the objective of this memoir will be lost if I don't quickly go back to what I intend to write.

It must have been Jan 15th/78 when my dad took me to the school. An imagery must be created to really visualize this whole thing. SO here it is?..Coming from Calcutta by Toofan mail was a journey, but getting down in Asansol and then beginning a course in life, little knowing the impact it will have in my life was stupendous. But thank god we mere mortals are so ignorant; otherwise, history could have been different.

Sitting in a rickshaw both dad and me saw red colored railway quarters passing by, people, durand cinema ( in later years that place would be visited many a times) , ahead of durrand was a railway stadium of sorts, it must have been a host to many a memorable games I never saw. The rick turns left from thereon and enters GT road (the fabled road of India) , further down it turns left to enter the gates of St. Patricks , another similar school like ours, I must mention here that somehow St Patricks never held that look of magnificence that our school always had. At some point down the road after passing thru soccer grounds on the left and I cant remember what was on the right, we crossed a gate, which signified the end of that school. The road passes from here on thru an area that looked like No mans land, with walls on both sides of the road?Left was the graveyard of honorable men and women and also I think a lake, but wasted property anyhow, and the right had middle class locals building residential houses of their dreams. I am sure by now the left hand side has been developed commercially.

I hate to go back, lest memories and dreams are shattered by what I see, I think its best to leave that place the way it was then. Getting back to where I was, we came across a road called Hill view road ( a name very Anglo-Saxon), again I wish to add my thoughts here a little before we proceed.

We Indians have a strange fascination with English language, we are so desperate to learn and communicate in English. Why the name couldn't have been parbat darshan road, I wonder sometime. Paradoxically I was going inside a territory that would teach me english and many more things that have affected life since then. Much much more than what the ICSE syllabus was all about.

Back to this story, my school did not have a name on the gate in huge billboard like advertisement. That made me thinks a lot. The school then did not have the swimming pool, nor the new building which came up with the chapel. The chapel was on the ground floor of the victorian building, the floor above was the Physics/chem lab ( Mr mattew he was our science teacher). I think that was the closest where science and the church met. (Just a jab, don't mind it pls). Of that day I have just this as memory?.In front of Br. Whiting `s office were two wooden benches, and I have this captured in memory forever, I remember this guy amitava chakravarty , a small guy wearing glasses and his brother Partha sitting with their mother, very quiet. I don't know why, but a very haunting image. More about this guy later.


The next I remember was the stairway leading not to heaven but to the locker room, or whatever it was called, you had to walk up then turn right and walk down a few steps before you came to this clumsy door that was on the left. Oh by the way, between the end of the stairway and the door was one side walled nad the other a verandah, where you could look out to a pond and natural fauna and foliage. The locker room smelled of soap and water and we had our own assigned lockers.

The guys who had been before me were experts in the way they handled the whole thing. DO you remember the carrying of keys. I had a black thread around my frigging neck with my keys hanging, as if I had to hold on to it for dear life, wish it could open better things than lockers.

The bathing area was downstairs? that's a big story the whole operation. Here it goes?.

That place had a series of taps on all sides, and showers in the centre. We hunkered down quick to occupy the best sinks ( best being defined as the ones that worked) reserved them with our towels and then as quickly as ever occupy the shower by placing the soap box under it. Amazing survival techniques. Nobody questioned why we were in such a hurry in life. But nevertheless a lesson of life, Darwin was right ..only the fittest survive. It doesn't end here, we had some guy go over to the far corner and turn on huge levers that needed the power of both hands, and lo, the water would come gushing out . Showers had to be had quickly, because others would be waiting behind you. In those kibbutzim, we were all tied to one another, by the sheer fact that existence demanded our unity at certain times. Downstairs under the stairs had the tuck shop?I think I have the taste of that fellows puris and rolls still lingering in my mouth. I am sure you guys must be licking your tongues right now.

The tuck shop was an invention of Mother Nature that cannot be ignored. This guy I again forget his name, would come in a bicycle with his son, and they both would do roaring business just before the bells tolled for that miserable study time. We had guys who begged for a freebie and guys who came from families that could afford a bigger pocket money. That tuckman was sold to guys with money and some who came from the collieries would buy and eat the best. Some like me would beg and get one free. That tuckman was one of the kindest soul who walked, for he surely felt for us, why else will be give stuff free, nobody does. ..and by the way this write up is copyrighted too. To get stuff free you had to wait till the bells rang and all of those guys went in, but some like us hung out, who cares if you are made to stand out by the so called captains.

Mr claridge was our super..if you ever read Charles dickens and Nichilas Nickelby you will know who Iam talking about. Mr claridge then to all of us was a cruel man. But today I have the highest of regards for him, he stood for things we don't stand for today. HE was what you have always read about, a cigar smoking pot bellied, and mustached man. He was an Anglo Indian from Jabbalpore , one that they used to make during the 30' & 40'S but no more now. He had a cane that
he used to grease, and he would read cheap novels when he sat on his high pulpit, the cane placed in arms length.

Mr. Claridge hated bullies and believed in the concept of ..an eye for an eye. He loved boys who were boys, though he would cane the hell out of them. He caned me like mad for all that I did, and still he remains a person, who never died and will never for me. We boarders would have to get our report cards signed by Mr. Claridge?the rule was that if u failed in more than two subjects you would be caned three times?.ringing evidence of clear thinking..you fail you are punished , no reasoning no justification. Wish we all think likewise today.

Invariably I would fail in more than two and get caned every time. Brian tong was a SOB , he did not get hurt, neither did HC chang, they were like bulls. We had D. Roy or rather donkey roy who would jump like a donkey with every shot he got on his backside. The pride was in holding your breath and taking all those one by one. This would make him angrier. SO what, pain is only a state of the mind. I learned it well. And he always liked me.

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