English, being a foreign language was a challenge. I memorized answers and notes. My rank would be twelfth or eleventh in Paramount High school. The school posed problems for me. A boy named Viju used to punch me in school. I complained about him to my father. I thought my father would come to school and complain about him to the Principal. Something else happened. My father decided to change the school. He felt that I didn’t have good students to compete with and that I shouldn’t feel complacent. Father told me, “You think you are clever because you are a rank holder in this school. I’ll change your school. Let’s see whether you can score ranks in the new school.” Dad enrolled me in Young Angels’ school, Vanavli. Sister Fatima had taken an entrance test. I was tested in subjects, English and maths. I saw the school premises. It was all green with trees. Standing uphill, one could see fields. The school was towards Davali. A very big sports ground was situated between Girls’ school and Boys’ school. The silence of the convent was good for me. I didn’t like my home which was a total contrast.
The new school pleased me. Students listened to the teacher in pin drop silence. It was a convent school having idyllic surroundings. I took a bus from the west of Vanavli. The bus halted at Mohannagar. I would get down from the bus and enter a small footpath flanked by a continuous wall on the right hand side and a fenced compound on the left hand side. It was an uncemented path. One could feel stones and mud under the feet. I would have a school bag on my shoulders. I trudged to school wearing black shoes with red socks and a uniform of a light grey colour. The continuous wall belonged to Bright Boys convent, devoted to bringing up of orphan boys and day scholars as well. It was almost a ten minute walk. One could watch the houses on the other side of the fenced compound. I saw women doing their household chores. Most of them were south Indians wearing their mundoos(a piece of cloth wrapped around the waist extending upto feet and another piece of cloth to cover the upper part of the body). I cannot forget the sight of a woman using a stone mortar to grind fish and mutton. The smell of fish, meat and eggs surged through the air. On one occasion, convent boys were being brought to the ground. They were instructed to move forward in a line. The boy who moved out of the line was caned. Such punishments, however, infused fear in me. Catcalls and any quirk in their behaviour were met with immediate punishment. Teachers had the right to mend the boys. The small uncemented footpath helped me to witness many interesting things and people. Walking with heavy school bag on my shoulders was tedious but people and things on the way made it less boring. I would reach the school. The gate showed two ways. One was a long way to the convent where sisters stayed. The other way on the left hand side was a wide flight of stairs which took us to the classrooms. One had to go to the other side of the classroom to enter sisters’ residence. The silence of the environment had a soothing effect on me. Noise of girls talking would be heard only during recess time. The discipline and mental peace I experienced do not belong to majority of schools of the present day. Modern schools seem to be noisy lacking discipline. Yet there are very few schools which are not noisy. Convents of yester years were sacred abodes of learning and convent sisters were devotees of education. I experienced sanctity and serenity in my school which was mixed with the feeling of awe.
But there was no sense of jubilation in me. I was not happy. Bad health, stammering and inferiority complex had sucked the elixir of happiness from me. I took the sanctified doses of morality provided mostly by nuns and priests of other convents. Such sessions were known as treats. Topics about sin, love, affection, motherhood were illustrated from daily life. The school world was secluded from evil. I felt protected. I preferred to be lonely and spoke little. I had hardly any friends.
On the left side of the gate was a small open ground. One had to climb three to four steps to reach there. Assembly was held there. Students had to keep their bags on a slightly elevated place. The principal stood under the mango tree and conducted our assembly. ‘Our father who art in heaven…’ The prayer reverberated in the environment. National anthem, pledge, thought for the day and news would be a regular feature. Some instructions would be given. Students had to stand in the afternoon sun. I remember having swooned in one of those assemblies not being able to bear the scorching heat. I was taken to the sick room where sisters took care of me. Sisters gave me some wafers to eat and a glass of milk to drink. The sisters were special. I felt they were close to God because they prayed and did good work. After the daily assembly, we would go to our respective classrooms.
Teachers, though low paid were devoted like the nuns. I could understand some of the topics taught in the class but the major part of understanding took place at home. I designed my time table and played the role of a teacher. I was a stutterer. I kept quiet in school. Teachers liked me for it. They would address the students in the class and tell them. ‘See Rani is as quiet as a mouse. Can’t you all be like her?’ I was not taken up by this adulation because I knew why I kept quiet. I did not give importance to doing homework at home. Most of the homework was done in school during free time. I failed in two subjects in standard sixth. I had the feeling of remorse, but had the determination to capture my lost position. I was a rank holder in the previous school. I felt ashamed at home. My parents didn’t criticize me or pressurize me to work hard. They didn’t tease me or disrespect me. Time table helped me to inculcate discipline. I would allot an hour for each subject. I would take a subject like geography. I would first read the chapter and understand the meaning by explaining it to myself. I studied the maps with the help of the world globe. I drew maps on the house wall with the help of chalks or slate pencils. I looked into the maps given in the text book. I would imagine the places having the geographical conditions as described in the text book. I memorized line after line. First three sentences were repeated three times. I would recollect it without seeing three times. After finishing the first three sentences, next three sentences would be repeated and recollected three times in a similar way. Then the first three and the next three sentences would be combined. The six sentences would be repeated and recollected in a similar way. The whole paragraph would be completed. Finally I would recollect the whole paragraph, a page, a chapter without a mistake. By and by I started scoring ranks.
The convent was funded by a foreign missionary. They had their headquarters in Menaba. Milk was distributed to students during recess. Leaving the classroom without permission or being late to school was unacceptable. The sisters were strict and loving. I watched a girl seemingly a boarder, demanding toffee from sister. The girl was crying. Sister looked at the girl and smiled. She asked the girl to stop crying. Sister took the child in her arms and said, “I’ll give you the toffee. First stop crying.” The girl took some short breaths and stopped crying and she had the toffee. This dedicated sister was none other than Sharon, the principal of the school. Dedication was the key word of education. All my sisters studied in the same school. My father acquainted Principal Sharon of the economic condition of our family and she reduced the school fees to one third. It was the convent of yester years when the grace of the Lord worked.
A male teacher from Silase came to teach us some songs on the piano. He asked us to open our mouth having three fingers space that is about two inches space so that we would sing full throated. This was the first time I was introduced to Western classical music formally and developed a liking for it. It was time for the music class. We had to climb a small staircase flanked by a music room on the left side. On the right hand side were creepers and hedges blooming with flowers. We were taken into the music room. Mr. John was bald. Girls giggled. Some of them softly said, ’May God shower some hair on his bald head.’ Although I had a serious countenance for most of the time in school, I was a little amused. As soon as sir played the notes on the piano, the sound of it would twirl my head. My head would become a sudden sweeping merry-go round and I would slump on the floor. The other students would lift me and take me to the sick room. Near the sick room, I would see a tortoise, swans swimming and geese cackling. Sisters would provide me with biscuits and milk and would advise me to lie down. I remember falling like this nearly three to four times. However I developed a phobia for music. I had to stand and sing. I didn’t enjoy singing in school. Sisters had formed an opinion that I was a sick and an impoverished girl. However I accepted my condition with indifference.
I had a Punjabi friend named Sarita Bala who used to accompany me to school. Once, I had been to her house. I saw her ironing her school dress. Ironing was not considered necessary by my mother. It was indeed a luxury. My mom made it a point to spread the uniform well before putting it out to dry. She took care to see that my uniform did not have creases. There was no need to iron clothes. Another thing I learnt from a north Indian family was, one should not have rice with ghee because ghee gets wasted. It makes the plates greasy and difficult to wash. Instead ghee should be smeared on one side of roti and eaten. Friends of mine were good. They accompanied me to and from school. They never became my playmates. Sarita Bala was a cat eyed, fair, good looking girl. Her family spoke pure Punjabi. Pranita Singh was of short stature, not fair skinned. Her home was one small room and a kitchen. Her father worked for the Railways. The small room was well maintained. It was clean. Both Sarita Bala and Pranita Singh lived in the third lane. Sarita Bala continued to be my friend for some years. When she failed, she left my company. I had another friend, Rosina Fernandez from Railway quarters. I went to her house. Her mother used to stitch clothes. It was a Goan family. What impressed me were a big garden and a dark inside of the house. Rosina was jovial, practical and thrifty. She was taller and heftier than me. Mom used to give me money to travel by bus to school. Rosina knew a short cut which helped us to reach the school quickly. She asked me to accompany her. There were many instances when I walked back from school along with her. She was a back bencher. I sat next to her. She would not pay attention to the teacher but would play, ‘Shiny sun bows, little flowers close, honey bees go’ She would move her fingers round and round on the desk. She would make dolls out of chocolate wrappers. I admired her for what she was; especially her boldness was a matter of pride for me. She was not good at studies. She was pulled up by the teacher very often. School was a good escape for me although it was strict.
I had bad experiences as well. While going to school, a man in lungi( a piece of cloth wound around the waist extending upto feet), working in a hotel stood behind the hotel door and showed his genitals to me. I didn’t know what to do and what it was. Was it his aberration of mind? I didn’t know. Innocence and ignorance combined in me and aroused fear, innate in all beings and I understood certain men can be dangerous biological beings. I hurried and walked off in fear.
Miss Oak was a history teacher. She was plump and short. I understood little of what she taught. But at home, I taught history to myself. Christopher Columbus, Magellan, fall of Constantinople interested me. During examination, I wrote answers so well that Miss Oak couldn’t cut a single mark. Miss Oak said, ‘Rani, get up and come here.’ I got up and went to the teacher. She asked me, “Did you copy the answers from the text book? I am asking you because you have not missed a single word from the text book.” I said that I didn’t copy. I was frightened. I stuttered and felt nervous. I did not understand why the teacher had formed the opinion that I had copied. Since I did not copy, I did not bother about teacher’s opinion about me. Those were the times when physiology was taught in schools. In modern schools it is taught under the name of biology. I was interested in the physical make up of the body and tried to remember the diagram in order to remember the various parts of the body. I could literally memorize the whole text. Is memorization a wrong practice? Has it caused a handicap in me or did I learn various terminologies in various subjects well enough? Did I learn English by internalizing it at a time when I did not have speakers around? The school was the only source. Teachers and convent sisters made it mandatory for students to speak in English in the school premises. Students spoke English and they did not bother about grammar or syntax. There was silence in classrooms which helped students to concentrate. Of course students were quiet due to fear and not due to understanding. Today majority of students in schools are distracted and restless. They have television, computers, mobile phones and many more elements to distract them. Internet has become an important tool to acquire information in the modern times, It is important to use it wisely. On the one hand there is explosion of information which is good and on the other hand channels and websites dealing with adult content has also led to mental aberrations. Students are affected by advertisements, films, and channels dealing in sex, pornography and crime. During our times there were few such distractions.
Once, my classmates went to a nearby field near Nandikeshwar to witness a film shooting. It was recess time. I too went with them. We returned to school before the recess was over. Sister came to know of this. She called us one by one, lifted our skirts and caned us. Each girl was caned twice. Girls didn’t complain. They had faith in the sister and had accepted their mistake. Were the sisters wrong? Were they right? Parents have entrusted their children to school. Shouldn’t the school authorities have some right to mend children? Students in their growing stage are not aware of what is good and evil. They do not have an experience of life. Before they could mess themselves up with something wrong, isn’t it right for sisters to take such an action? Should the sister call parents for such things? It is said that instead of chastisement, one must cater to reason. Understanding is a factor which is not common to every child or even every human. An innocent and adamant child having little or no experience cannot understand the rationality of discipline. If the child persists and repeats his or her misbehavior, and cannot be controlled by parents, cane comes in handy. The child would not repeat his or her misbehavior because of fear. It is true that some children turn violent and they revolt. Cane should be used wisely. Some serious psychological problems in children should be treated as early as possible by teachers and parents. A counselor can also be consulted. Discipline is a must. Self discipline is difficult. It has to be inculcated. Sometimes it needs external force. The child, I feel should be able to put up with insults, privations and difficult situations. Such things make the child mentally stronger and not weaker. There are some children who are too emotive and any type of wrong handling could lead to serious psychic problems. Moral and mental courage are important in life. Although humans are rational beings, it takes more time for many human beings to reason out happenings and understand life. Childhood behaviour needs conditioning. Reason and motivation do not always work.
English cinemas were shown in our convent. Nuns who taught in the convent would keep us away from scenes of kissing and all kinds of erotic scenes. Many may say that nuns were wrong because they differentiated between sexual love and all other kinds of love. Then is it good to show all kinds of sexual scenes and make the child prematurely mature? We don’t believe in the norm that he or she has got to understand it naturally, the way nature wants it to be. The girl and boy have to be taught a word of caution. Biologically, sex should be used for procreation and not for recreation. One must adhere to the law of nature. However this law of nature cannot be practised. Human life is governed by economic laws. Sex cannot be used only for procreation. More children would mean more economic burden. A practical and positive mental attitude towards sex must be created. Mere scientific knowledge is of no importance. A special session was arranged for standard eighth and sex was discussed as a device which provided natural joy of motherhood. Both man and woman are involved in nurturing the young. What is love? Is it an expression of selfishness, sacrifice, bestiality, affection or spirituality? What would you say if a boy says ‘I love you’? Questions biological and social by nature were discussed. Has exposure to sex really improved our lives? Has the crime level gone down? Are women really respected? Is she an object of beauty and sex? Is she a commercial commodity? Is premature exposure to sex distracting the boys from studies? It is difficult to answer all these questions because in those days too pornography and sexual abuse were prevalent in the society.
Nursery rhymes are by hearted in schools by small kids of today. One of the nursery rhymes like ‘Here we go round the mulberry bush’ was recited without the knowledge of what is a mulberry bush. ‘What does little birdie say in her nest at peep of day?’ This poem was not understood because we were non-English speakers. It revealed a great truth about life. When children grow up, they leave their parents just as birdies do. Poems had rhyme and rhythm. Words were ingested by the mind but most of it was left undigested. Reading the words aloud and pronouncing it properly were important. Pronunciation was not a problem since I listened to my teachers and imitated their pronunciation. Muhammad bin Tughlaq was pronounced as Moohaamed bin Tooglaaq. The school influenced me and my behaviour but the part of understanding a topic as a concept was done at home. By hearting was fun. I felt secured. I felt I would be able to answer any question. When it came to Marathi I did the same. I would read the lessons aloud and by heart the answers as well. I would try to get the pronunciation of my teacher, Mrs. Apte. Hindi was a bit difficult but I had a liking for it and considered it as a language which I can easily imbibe. But marks were not coming forth. So the Hindi teacher Mrs. Saxena was asked to coach me free of cost. Fortunately for me, she lived in railway quarters near Vanavli station. I walked to her place for tuition. She made me read some lessons and taught me grammar. Once, the teacher wanted to go to Nada, her native place in North India. She took my help for making puris. I rolled out puris for her. The dough was hard. I asked her why the dough was so hard. She told me that loose or soft dough will absorb more oil because of water content. I learnt the technique of making puris besides learning Hindi grammar. I understood that life was not just study and play. The Hindi teacher appeared to be strict and practical. Later I did encounter her once while I was travelling towards Thepi. I learnt from her that she had left school and she had started her own school at Nada in North India. School life was burdensome especially because I had to carry the heavy school bag every day. I would feel a fuming sensation of heat probably because of cod liver oil and shark oil I had consumed. One day I decided not to go to school. I told my mother that I had stomach pain. Mom gave me medicine and asked me to take rest. At twelve noon mom told me “Now your stomach is all right. You can go to school.” I didn’t utter a word and slowly walked off to school.
Once during play hour, I stood under the tree. No one was there. All of a sudden my classmate came running. She saw a green snake overhead. It had its face towards the central part of my head. Her scream frightened me and I moved away from the tree meekly.
I took interest in learning science. Somehow I couldn’t understand chemistry much. I by hearted the definition line by line. If a sentence was too big, I would split it into phrases and clauses and by heart phrases and clauses and then the full sentence. This was the method used for rote learning. Rote learning has been a part of Indian tradition.
Miss Oak, my history teacher was bothered about her looks. She wore a one piece dress. The dress was too short. When she sat on the chair, her knees could be seen. She would sit on the chair, swab her face and her lips, apply lipstick while we had all the time in the world to go under the bench and see whether she had worn her inner wear. We as students did not take her seriously. She was a source of humour for us. There was a smart girl, Rabina Dantes, who always wore short skirts. When she smiled, she had dimples on her cheeks. Sister Sharon would take her to task and punish her for wearing short skirts. It was announced during the assembly that girls must wear long skirts up to the knee. Girls with short skirts and one plaited hair were punished. It was mandatory for girls to have two plaits. No ear rings, anklets, nose rings, bangles, necklaces, bindis were allowed. No girl could have mehendi designs on her hand. These were considered as distractions and not as ornaments. Girls naturally wish to deck and beautify themselves. But that would distract them from concentrating in class. Girls would start talking about ear rings, bindis, bangles etc. instead of concentrating on studies. As against this is the modern view which believes in fostering beautification or any other interest as it can become a base for future career. The sisters wanted uniformity to facilitate mental discipline. Mental discipline however can help anyone to translate their interests into careers. But homogeneity is against diversity which cannot be neglected. Minds are diverse. So too their likes and dislikes. I did not think of decking or beautifying myself since my mind was not in it. A teacher who taught us needlework was a Sindhi woman. Girls interested in needlework got good guidance from her. Somehow my interest was not in it. I gave a lukewarm response to the cloth material I had bought for stitching. I thought I would do it when I had time. Soon the disaster day of needlework exam would dawn. I kept my cool even when I scored zero. Priscilla was infuriated when I scored zero in needlework. Being my class teacher, Priscilla was worried. She told me,” Listen Rani, you are good at academics. What is the use of it? What will you do if your clothes are torn? Are you going to join the two ends of the torn cloth?’ I kept quiet because explaining my problem, would involve speaking many words and many words meant more stammering.
The school celebrated Christmas. It was an austere Christmas which nurtured the values. The values were the most important factor of Christmas celebration. Lakshmi, Dafny Williams, Pratima Hegde and a whole team of girls prepared the Christmas crib. It was all hay, dolls, cotton, streamers, balloons and colours. The best crib in the school would get the prize. There would be jubilation in the class which won the competition. Harmonious carols were a treat to a turbulent mind. Apart from Christmas cake, experiencing the good was an integral part of Christmas.
I remember Pratima Hegde who sang a serious Hindi song which is about the destiny of a drop of rain which might join water in a pond, lake, river, sea or ocean. Pratima sang with great feeling. Although I did not know the meaning, the tune had its effect. Another classmate of mine was Geeta. She was wide eyed and beautiful. She was studious and had a delicate smile. I admired her for simplicity and devotion. Selvi and Malvi were twins. They had shifted from Ukoor. They were good at studies. They used to get down from car every day. I concluded that they were from a rich family. I did not dare to make friendship with them. They appeared to be stately and royal. A competitive spirit, where studies were concerned prevailed. We had Miss Floria, who never married and lived in the convent. I would always find her busy correcting English composition books. She was the most devoted teacher I had come across. She taught us to write essays and letters. She took rounds and observed what each student was doing and if we committed mistakes, she would scold us and show us how to write. She had a smiling face. A real teacher with a real feeling! There was an old Marathi teacher Mrs. Kulkarni. She took care to see that we wrote Marathi spellings properly. It is known as shuddha lekhan. She asked us to keep text books in front of us and write answers to questions by copying spellings of words and the formation of sentences from the textbook. One of the poems in the textbook reflected the condition of illiterate woman in India in the bygone days. There were no telephones, mobiles or internet. The character in the poem could only remember her parents, sisters and brothers. She yearns for them. Her mind makes the flying bird as the medium to know the wellness of her mother’s home and she wants the bird to convey the message to her mother that she is alright at her in-laws place. It is a nostalgic and melancholic poem in Marathi. I remember it even today with sadness in my heart. Development of Marathi and Hindi were at a slow pace as compared to English. I used to converse in Hindi and Marathi using limited vocabulary.
Sister Sharon made frequent visits to Menaba, their headquarters and there was a missionary school there. Sister Sharon would talk about women who stuck on to tradition and to their husbands even when they were tortured by their husbands and in laws. She would pity them. She was bewildered by the self sacrificing attitude of these women. Their incredible patience would make one fall at their feet. Women were able to put up with severe circumstances. Sister would say, “There is nothing called mohabbat. It is Mahabharat.”
Christian children went to study Catholicism whereas other students learnt moral science. We had to memorize certain definitions. Hasina Shaikh was also my classmate. She was hefty and tall. She was frank and expressed her views openly without fear. Sister had provided a place for her to offer namaz. It was an excellent example of respect for other faiths. In those days moral grooming was an important part of education. Today’s cinema, television serials, radio, mobile sets and the society in which we live presents, by and large, values which are mainly commercial. Drastic change in social values has put moral grooming at the back burner. Children turning to criminality are more common now than before. Can this be attributed to inadequate moral grooming or changing moral values?
We had a teacher who spoke in Hindi. He taught us Hindi bhajans to infuse in us the importance of God. God is described as the ultimate truth, the truth which does not change and remains the same for all. I learnt it. Sister took great care to see that students belonging to other religions got their due. I admired my classmate Rekha Iyer. She was tall, slim, and fair. Her long hair was plaited into two. She had a sweet smiling face. She stood first in the class. She was humble and had leadership qualities. She was more amiable than others. I couldn’t strike friendship with her due to my stuttering problem. Inferiority complex bogged me down.
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Felt quiet connected to this….felt like its my story…as I too can identify few shades or events as my own experience….really engrossing….took me back to memory lane!!