Saturday, March 03, 2007

Nanna Kathe - III

As I told you earlier, we used to get out of the classrooms and head straight to the field to play cricket whenever a teacher was absent. This we were not supposed to do according to school rules. But then rules are to be broken. So we didn’t care on most occasions. But after we were caught a couple of times by our PT master, we tried to get the permission from him and then go. Even if he didn’t we would go without being observed by him. It was just a formality. But to succeed even in this formality, MEshwars head, was believed to be a lucky omen. Before that let me tell something more about MEshwar and his head.

MEshwar, joined PTA in fifth standard. (He almost instantly became famous amongst the whole of fifth standard (which consisted of 100 people spread across 3 sections) for his, “We have a ball factory” statement.) In the same year, he offered the hair that adorned his head, to Lord Venkateshwara of Tirupati, probably as a mark of gratitude for helping him to choose such a wonderful school. Consequently, his head, instead of being hirsute, was more like a thin layer of carpet rolled out on his head. From the last bench, “MEshwar tale nodu,olle MG Road tara ide”, came out the side-talk as the teacher was explaining the intricacies of Biology. The resultant laughter, made the teacher to know about what happened. It was more fun when the teacher was told what happened, loudly and clearly, by the person who said it. Such a head, which shared its appearance with MG road, was considered lucky as far as getting permission for games was considered. So, before going to ask permission, it was customary to touch his head in order to bestow upon ourselves whatever fortune his carpet like head was able to bless us with.

Well cricket and our passion for it, created more comedy. One day, thinking that Mrs Jayashree Kadambi, the English teacher, was absent, the boys of seventh standard C section, headed straight to the field in the first hour of a Saturday morning. Jayashree, apparently not absent, came to the class to find only the girls there. The boys, sincerely playing cricket, were summoned back to class. Jayashree was furious at them. “Do you think I am mad”, she thundered? “Yes”, came the reply from the erring boys. But, fortunately for them, it was not well audible for the teacher. Such audacity, you might think. But that was the stuff PTA’s precocious kids were made of.

Well, they were not just precocious, but perverted too. How else can you explain the fact that in seventh standard, a few students used the dictionary daily to search for profane words? And we had also strengthened the existing vocabulary by adding more meanings to every word. “Ball”, “mender”, “gap” and many such seemingly innocuous words, had other meanings, most of which had sexual connotations.

To such perverted kids that we were, Radhakrishna, the music teacher, would ask us to “Close your eyes and pray the almighty” in the weekly music classes we had. What an irony!

As I write this, more and more little stories come to my mind. I fear writing them all would be at the cost of the already plummeting interest level of the reader in this narrative. So, I decide here, to conclude this part of this continuing story (hopefully). Before that, as always, there is the eternal one final word. That year, we took public examinations for the first time, a first for both the examiner and the student at seventh standard level. Through such meticulous guidance from our teachers and parents like having the hall ticket pasted on our writing pads, we managed to overcome in this exam, as they say, in flying colours. What a happy way, for some of us who joined a different high school, to end our stay in PTA school. Goodbye PTA. Welcome Vijaya High School.


Arjun Sharma said...

That was me. I said "MEshwar tale MG road thara ide." K V Akshay confirmed this by touching MEshwar's head and saying out loud, "Houdo, MEshwar tale M G road thara-ne ide! Flaaaaat aagi..."

The Jayashree Kadambi incident was nice. We came back almost half an hour into the forty-minute class and were accosted and interrogated by her. The "Yes" to her "You think I am mad??" question was muttered. We weren't that brave/audacious.

'twas the "A" section fellows who searched for the meanings of 'bad words' like 'bastard,' 'rape' and suchlike. Our class merely indulged in innuendo.

They charged us Rs 2/- as exam fee for the 7th public exam, I remember, since we were the first batch. We were ecstatic that it was so cheap.

Somewhere in the pages of this historical story, old Latin has been forgotten...

Harish said...

Houdu, neen-a heLiddu. But I did not know about this confirmation by K V Akshay - son of a lawyer.

"Our class merely indulged in innuendo" - This is bit of an understatement.

One 'life-changing exam' used to cost just Rs. 2 then. Low inflation, economists say, was the reason for that. (There was no VAT also. You know how much impact that will have.) Those were really good times.

Good old Latin. Yes I have missed his story. Probably I can add one more part where I can just tell about many little interesting stories that I have unfortunately, or rather stupidly, missed. Ondu complete package aagutte.