tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73936828961986888912024-03-14T08:32:32.546-07:00Recollections: School daysThis blog is a recollection of my school life, some teachers, classmates, etc. in the 1960s and 70s in Mysore. This will also contain updates whenever I have met an old mate in recent times esp. after decades of gap!Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-35185291201156846432013-05-08T08:27:00.000-07:002014-05-01T22:51:42.427-07:00Our teachers' nicknames<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Our high school teachers were referred by their name initials. Their initials were marked in our time table against which subject they took. The 1970-73 batch was lucky in the sense that the old timers were still around and started retiring. I was in 'C' Section.<br />
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As in most schools and colleges, students are renown to expand the initials of teachers to make funny nicknames. In our school too, there were some funny nicknames. They were not to disrespect them but purely meant for fun. Some teachers also seemed to know of their nicknames. Some nicknames both silly and intelligent, were coined many batches back and passed on to the next batch and the next and so on. <br />
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I try to list out some I remember. A few are not necessarily on initials. Many are not alive now, except probably 3-4, NSS, KRK, PV and CVR. I have met the first three in recent years.<br />
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<b>AVR</b> - Ardha Vaday Ranganna - His real name was A.V.Ranganna. English teacher, short man, chain smoker who had 'smoker's cough' and never seemed to know Kannada.<br />
<b>ASL</b> - Lal Bahadur Shastri - because he had a resembled our Prime Minister in the 1960s. No initial expansion. His name was A.S.Lakshminarayana. He was poverty-striken after he retired and used to walk the streets selling incense sticks to earn a living. It was such a sorry state to see of a teacher. He took Civics and Geography.<br />
<b>MNL</b> - none as far as I know. He was the Head Master when I joined 8th and retired at the end of the term. His name was MN Lakshminarasimhaiah. English teacher. No known nickname for him.<br />
<b>BN</b> - Beedhi Naayi [Street dog]. He was B.Narasinga Rao. He took Chemistry. His son was in our class, B.N.Ramesh. There were six Ramesh-s in our class!!<br />
<b>MKG</b> - Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. He was M.K.Gopala Iyengar. I think he took Science or English occasionally.<br />
<b>NSS</b> - NoNa Saayso Shoora. N.S.Seetharam. Took over from MNL as Head Master in 1971. Algebra teacher, renown for his neat writing on the board.<br />
<b>NSV</b> - NoNa Saayso Veera. NoNa is fly. His name was N.S. Venkata.. something [not sure]. Physics teacher.<br />
<b>MRK</b> - Madhya Raatri KaLLa [mid night thief] - M.R.Krishnamurthy. He took Physics.<br />
<b>KRK</b> - Krishnamurthypuram RoTTi KaLLa. K.R.Krishnamurthy [RoTTi is flat bread, KaLLa is thief]. The strictest Maths teacher.<br />
<b>SNC</b> - GodhamoTTay. His name was S.N.Chakravarthy. Biology and Chemistry [?].<br />
<b>SK</b> - Cannot remember if there was any for him. He came for Biology.<br />
<b>VK</b> - Vodakal KunDi. Cracked buttock! V.Krishnaiah [our PE teacher].<br />
<b>NL</b> - Naayi Laddhi. Dog Shit. N,Lakshminarasimhaiah [he was my father's classmate in school, 1930s]. Geography teacher.<br />
<b>CVR</b> - none for him I think. English teacher.<br />
<b>PV </b>- cannot recall any name for him. History, Civics and English [non-detail]<br />
<b>MSK</b> - Chinnada GaNi. [Gold mining]. Mohammad S..... Khan. He used to dig his nostrils and keep them clean just like one cleans the barrels of a gun! He was made to fill the 'Work Experience" slot where he made us do nothing. Sometimes MKG filled this slot and taught us sewing. MSK was our school's only Urdu teacher and so he only had one class per day and students were few too. Since nothing was done, the boys did all sort of nuisance in this time. <br />
<b>Ganapathi Bhat </b>- He was renown for his below the belt jokes and was often referred to as <i>'poly bhatta'. </i>Our school's only<i> </i>Hindi teacher.<br />
<b>Anantha Somayaji </b>- no nicknames. Our school's only Sanskrit teacher.<br />
<b>VSS</b> - Cannot recall his name - Srinivasa Murthy may be. He was our school's only Kannada teacher.<br />
<b>MCC</b> - He was a poetand taught Science and English. No nickname as far as I know. He was M.C.Chokkanna who always sported the caste mark - a vertical red line on his forehead. MKG also sported that red line once in a while.<br />
<b>DVN - </b>Donku VeeNay Naarada. This is the funniest of them all. Naarada in mythology having a crooked VeeNay [a string instrument]. I think he was D.V.Narasimhamurthy. English and Science.<br />
<b>SR </b>- Name not familiar to me. Due to his short stature, he was nicknamed <b>"SR -KuLLa"</b>. He joined as a fresher to teach Kannada when we were in 10th and much later became HM.<br />
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There was very old and wrinkle-faced attendant of the school. Jogaiah - everyone called him Jogi. He was the one who rung the beautiful hand bell and too attendance registers back to the HM from all classes at the stipulated time. Just remembering him here.<br />
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Have I missed out any? <br />
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Comments are awaited.. with more memories!!</div>
Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-16670647606571718792013-05-02T08:32:00.001-07:002015-10-15T08:28:34.283-07:00Our MKG at Sarada Vilas High School<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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He had the same initials as Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, MKG! M. K. Gopala Iyengar. He had a Gandhian discipline, was slim, fair and soft-spoken. This teacher used to occupy one of the slots usually in the after-lunch sessions about twice a week. MKG was always clad in a spic and span white kurta and pyjama, neatly pressed. He came on his shining clean bicycle that had a nice cane basket hung to the handlebar. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaNUB47ZW_nZi2d2pacod-fehuVHCRkkmpsSSsj7e7N1wQpufcxZWoiRk-yV_hgVs3KjuVEgJ3fGKx7V0aGSh47UdIu2V0As_CP2Qe3ENAus1uqvTduTZ7ObZvkjRBMzU33mg5GEmLhRU/s1600/P1380895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaNUB47ZW_nZi2d2pacod-fehuVHCRkkmpsSSsj7e7N1wQpufcxZWoiRk-yV_hgVs3KjuVEgJ3fGKx7V0aGSh47UdIu2V0As_CP2Qe3ENAus1uqvTduTZ7ObZvkjRBMzU33mg5GEmLhRU/s320/P1380895.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The filled the "Work Experience" class which we used to like. I remember that MKG's hobby was tailoring and sewing. He had made us to learn simple sewing techniques and he used to tell that they are very useful skills that can be handy all our lives. He had made us to buy a thimble, a needle, white thread, some buttons and some white cotton cloth. I have not forgotten the hand sewing skills he taught - hemming, buttoning, making the buttonhole and using the thimble on the middle finger-tip for protection and as a tool to push the needle while hand-sewing. And the thimble I bought in 1972 is still with me, though the finger has overgrown. Here it is: </div>
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We used to like his session better than the one occupied by another Urdu language teacher [MSK]. MSK would just sit and doze on his chair. When he was awake, he would make use of this time by cleaning his nostrils using his left hand fingers and making a tiny dry-mucous ball and......? This was the noisiest 40 minuets besides the Sanskrit class which Somayaji was handling. MSK could ever control the boys who went on murmuring and chatting but his shouts only dissolved in the noise. He too did not bother much and just spent time till the bell. This was one leisure period that all of us enjoyed in that way. Some of them used the time to finish their homework to save time for play at home!</div>
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Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-56459854722797108672010-08-25T10:47:00.000-07:002010-08-25T21:46:27.566-07:00Rajan, Rameshs and Anantha...<div align="center"> In April, B.Rajan was found attending a friend's family function to which I was also invited. The same old Rajan smile! When KoLi Master <em>(our tall PT Master who was often hunting with our Mysore Maharaja was always fond of narrating to the whole school during the drill session that was once involved in a fight with a tiger showing his handicapped left shoulder which he could not use normally)</em> found him not doing the drill in CKC, he used to lift him up holding those ears as a punishment! Everybody remembers that. Look at that ear now! Rajan was also in SVHS later.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509407023524349586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 264px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrVJn2tJyHhdz4dPtY8DOCdohqXh_HcoAM5naAELIBs0hGExQq3DW34Uruh07S7rl01RXzuSf8SNBI4nfTl5MiZMR4EGjWuTm8aa5VM5WBd0PBGGj3f7v6jHLRl8HvvlwQs9RkA_4uIE/s320/DSC04068+(Large).JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509407016852761026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMoiOObsvNvrMfCvUZdfFiAIESJU9RMFGd454NO6MggX2OBw8Aa_KB-dQa7qcLSP95uC43gxtU7RD8CGYrLwmMe3jRicaq6yzd09_toE2qGw9pkGT1kjP5aeibe7g_raGMqfjb8fnF4Y/s320/DSC04065+(Large).JPG" border="0" /></div><div align="center">In August, following KoLi Ramesh's intimation, I got to contact two chaps who were in Sarada Vilas High School. BN Ramesh and KR Ramesh. BNR (our chemistry teacher B.Narasanga Rao's son, is in Gujarat. He was a good debater in his school days and brought many laurels to our school. When I spoke to him over phone, he still had that clarity in speech! </div><br /><br /><div align="center">One Ananthapadmanabha who stumbled upon this blog responded to which I corresponded and within a week we were facing each other in front of his home and later in it! He had come down from busy Bangalore and called. He remembers me from the Tennis-ball-cricket activity in 1975 from his crystal-clear memory and the ease with which he recollected so many things/events from those days on the field and at school was a joy to listen, when we together met KR Ramesh in his home over some fine-flavoured tea. Ananth was in CKC's Kannada medium as well whereas KRR was in another section of SVHS. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509407011242507730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 187px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrd5V5-gQ_kGkv3nryOlsqW37wOHYktqgRcygyS596NSrGlWPqsdkFam-DOHUkLSadBp6qey7oxHoqO4XyH6pwSGNVXHPUfpBm6_F3oPVXdoC3jbo0K6DAWQFUXIuTbftcBuQJXQiho2o/s320/AUGUST-PIX-10+(Large).jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><br /><div align="center">KoLi Ramesh is now very passionate in building fuel-effecient hot water boilers and ovens. He was kind enough to build one in my home two years ago. It was his 125th project. Indeed it is saving much fuel while giving hot water. The steel boiler was fabricated by another senior CKC mate Ramaswamy. KoLi is watching the finished job and had just fired to test it.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509408516813190226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-ikSA5yiTrkwp08obj6RGHmN2Jr88KaNLty0PqfmYmxta67tEO_YVV2jQJrOu3yHdDPwZDFlfV4sFRfksIHlt5r7zzX51lMyJmD15dlWXF_kPjswtW_KZquA0G3Pvi2fuF2LjJ0XM5A/s320/DSCF7726+(Large).JPG" border="0" /></div>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-18609703416077141242010-06-27T09:48:00.000-07:002010-06-27T10:16:57.373-07:00Some more visits from old mates<div style="text-align: center;">This week, there have been a couple of meetings with old class and school mates. First Vasanth Kumar surprised me with a phone call and asked me to identify the voice which I could not. He said he was visiting me that evening. He was in Mysore on vacation. Along with him and doing the same but for some very important duty was Zakir who too joined him in the visit - I must say that he never fails whenever he lands in Mysore. See last photo.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Our classmate Geeta had invited me to attend her father's 80th birthday gathering. There came also, one Vathsala who was not our classmate but an acquaintance with my family in the same locality. She was attending, taking time off from busy Bangalore. Meera also brought her to our house the next evening. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ShtpClBx77BY1jlepAHi74W6WMly4XQWvpaFKBaKDxlpZMm49yFjt7PCHfF-RS39jJjPopuQEjNlKX1-QVJZ60-tXkl6NtkC-MCTyTTD2CNOqmx8VtnDqt_50AwjJYxxWn7tG_iYNQw/s1600/DSC04385+(Large).JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 261px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ShtpClBx77BY1jlepAHi74W6WMly4XQWvpaFKBaKDxlpZMm49yFjt7PCHfF-RS39jJjPopuQEjNlKX1-QVJZ60-tXkl6NtkC-MCTyTTD2CNOqmx8VtnDqt_50AwjJYxxWn7tG_iYNQw/s320/DSC04385+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487496818858320178" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The funniness of Meera's expression is caught in the unintentional timing of this photo!</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrbmjRFP3jlZnu2AwpYLjZBgX1z8coaakKShXdGiDggB_DrYZyeC9kKMjjwo-0vOPZ6im-KdRkwakzi5mDvP-rxgkBIBR8UV0LpB4n5YWi0MJB0TL7svr3m7a7W4D0gYQSVpTwptGccQ/s1600/DSC04378+(Large).JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrbmjRFP3jlZnu2AwpYLjZBgX1z8coaakKShXdGiDggB_DrYZyeC9kKMjjwo-0vOPZ6im-KdRkwakzi5mDvP-rxgkBIBR8UV0LpB4n5YWi0MJB0TL7svr3m7a7W4D0gYQSVpTwptGccQ/s320/DSC04378+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487496815512685186" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Geeta enjoys a joke with her old classmate who seemed to be meeting each other after a long while. What's in the box there?</div></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw801Ujb6LA0hMz1h5HjJ5EMisuTywAJcR_-rPa2GValD6fPdqeMXHEurlSukZShhXZQLCoR6kYUcexLacwVm12KposRnZSWw2R65g09u3RiwJFOXVfexRq1dZ1-5XSCq19-9Aq1i8cXQ/s1600/P1250038+(Large).JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw801Ujb6LA0hMz1h5HjJ5EMisuTywAJcR_-rPa2GValD6fPdqeMXHEurlSukZShhXZQLCoR6kYUcexLacwVm12KposRnZSWw2R65g09u3RiwJFOXVfexRq1dZ1-5XSCq19-9Aq1i8cXQ/s320/P1250038+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487496810900710274" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I asked them not to pose for the picture, yet they did!</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">When I was mid way through this, Srinivas (another old mate) called me from Bangalore to inform the loss of his 85-year old father 3 days ago. </div>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-30443833535683745662010-01-10T07:25:00.000-08:002010-01-10T08:38:30.846-08:00Srinivas does a Zakir<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03AG9Etjp8DnzKo56uSe3LqSAGGEJPFFYZUNGeQrl0fXR2Sc3WZNDEBx4EJwIVxGLp33GhpXA4Zo8U8Tp-UAVMSMlYNG4UpBcsBZbgWbucdBIXJ_PKTChTzQXsp_8hcChcrgo3_kQQi0/s1600-h/P1230657+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03AG9Etjp8DnzKo56uSe3LqSAGGEJPFFYZUNGeQrl0fXR2Sc3WZNDEBx4EJwIVxGLp33GhpXA4Zo8U8Tp-UAVMSMlYNG4UpBcsBZbgWbucdBIXJ_PKTChTzQXsp_8hcChcrgo3_kQQi0/s320/P1230657+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425132970947188354" border="0" /></a><br />After the "Two Rajas", almost like a hat-trick, it was G.R. Srinivas ~ renown to his later friends as Shandilya prefixed by Srinivas or just plain~ who stood at the doorstep without a hint. Him coming all the way from half way round the earth and then 90 miles from Bangalore, as he does most of the time, is just plain thrill. (Doffing my hat at this sustained affection). As I said earlier, Zakir does this - suddenly coming in at the most unexpected time of the year - also without flashing a clue beforehand - and showing himself in person.<br /><br />Srinivas has been one of my very earliest friends and classmates. Our contacts had been disconnected as I had lost his whereabouts many years back. His NY Greeting card to my familiar address renewed it after his Delhi days after a gap of many years. E-mails replaced our 'snail mail' correspondence after that and I feel good continuity has been maintained. He will agree that he is a reluctant responder. But that does not matter and I've never minded it, because it is his heart that matters and that is what brings him from thousands of miles away. This time it was a nice surprise! Somehow he seemed to 'know' I'd be at home.<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-72632930351725033452010-01-06T08:27:00.000-08:002010-01-06T09:12:59.806-08:00Visits by the two "Rajas"<div style="text-align: center;">End of December means vacation time for most of us as that is the right time to laze off using some saved up leave at work. Climate too in Mysore is at its salubrious best during that time with a little bit of that pleasant nip in the cool air. The two Rajas knew that was the best time to return to their old city in which they grew up and studied.</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">One Raja calls me to inform that he was touring Mysore 'next week' with his family (of four). Sounds as if he was traveling a thousand miles! He has flown or traveled thousands of miles in directions other than Mysore in the few years gone by. It was time for him to show his children the Mysore he had seen. He was returning after many years! <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">From where? Only from Bangalore! Just 90 miles away. The children were now grown up. Time had flown past and his son was standing taller than him and he had not shown Mysore to them! That is how time has escaped right below the nose of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Rajaram</span>. His job responsibility had made Mysore a far off destination! All said and done he made it after probably umpteen cancellations at the n'th moments.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlI7VZiqVFHEmO_j5nUdUW-AXhsKcvT0yaZWTEMnZ15foy5OzGeYkNnQAaJwOG_BnoqJ6JsDV_Spq2OAsXxc28gs87V0JRBstwbMisiot_0WCvsd91XFGbrHzGdmhs2VO7c9qo35DZMyU/s1600-h/P1230247+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlI7VZiqVFHEmO_j5nUdUW-AXhsKcvT0yaZWTEMnZ15foy5OzGeYkNnQAaJwOG_BnoqJ6JsDV_Spq2OAsXxc28gs87V0JRBstwbMisiot_0WCvsd91XFGbrHzGdmhs2VO7c9qo35DZMyU/s320/P1230247+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423668424222472578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">(The clock up there has been stopped deliberately)</span><br /><br />The other Raja has visited Mysore on a few occasions in the past. His surprise call when he was already on the outskirts was a real thrill. He was coming from erstwhile Madras. He does not e-mail often or almost 'not at all', but uses the telephone as a rule and preference! He is somewhat like Zakir who comes all the way from a small country called Brunei and stands in front of my door like a bolt from the blue! This Raja came with family (of 3) the old neighbour and school senior Srinivas and nephews too. How I wish <span style="font-weight: bold;">Rajagopal</span> had timed his visit with the other Raja! They were only Sundays apart. You can see that CKC-days look still bubbling in Gopi (this is what we call him) as if to remind his classmates his 6th std days when Sr.Prudentia had nicknamed (wrongly) as 'Cunning Fox'. Nobody knows the reason. May be during an English lesson that a fox was featured we do not recollect. Gopi has failed miserably to live up to his nickname.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ObeaiB174qIaoRAr3llQPNgv9i4AW6qlcVwqe9LmIl0xKfcPGJ6j-4Dwy33CStR2_5_GOFsFjpN8ckiCe8FUFDIP8q9_g8NJDRRjHpbcVJovImBJjGAxdQYyvJRNjpHia0AW7GKxBTQ/s1600-h/P1230343+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ObeaiB174qIaoRAr3llQPNgv9i4AW6qlcVwqe9LmIl0xKfcPGJ6j-4Dwy33CStR2_5_GOFsFjpN8ckiCe8FUFDIP8q9_g8NJDRRjHpbcVJovImBJjGAxdQYyvJRNjpHia0AW7GKxBTQ/s320/P1230343+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423668266324473570" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Srinivas in red and Gopi in spotless white flank me in this picture. White has become Gopi's favourite in recent times (just my observation).<br /><br />It is mutual visits like these that keep the fire of the old friendship burning. Old classmate-friends are unique and so different than other friendships.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"></div><div style="text-align: center;" id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-40602725387167553562009-12-19T19:39:00.000-08:002009-12-19T19:44:36.870-08:00CKC is the ladder to so many<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRbb0yp2nxL94caotohUwcQ_rQBcZITelUTBVa3jJP0SWUbPNjamItKcNwe7xI17uNi29n7NYs9gjdPxd4_cWqzQOFpR9Oh2k4KQ23QW-xsouIra6Qcs6ZbX0-wiqfsletkRGmlS__mTk/s1600-h/CKC.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRbb0yp2nxL94caotohUwcQ_rQBcZITelUTBVa3jJP0SWUbPNjamItKcNwe7xI17uNi29n7NYs9gjdPxd4_cWqzQOFpR9Oh2k4KQ23QW-xsouIra6Qcs6ZbX0-wiqfsletkRGmlS__mTk/s320/CKC.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417158717018368210" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Very recently, I was passing by my old school and I found this ladder kept above the main portico. I thought students use this ladder to climb higher heights in their career! In my days, it was kept hidden!!??<br /><br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"></div><div id="refHTML"></div>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-70203676289457911732009-12-06T09:37:00.000-08:002009-12-06T10:09:14.329-08:00Some new pictures of Sarada Vilas High SchoolI was passing by Sharada Vilas High School recently (Dec.2, 2009). Since I had a camera in my pocket, I thought of taking a few shots. I had spent 3 years between 1970-73. There were a few changes in the quadrangle. The Head Master's room was shifted. In the old place there were some new rooms. Classes were on and except for the peon (seen in the picture below) in front of the HM's room none was out. It looked silent and deserted, though some boys near the windows tried to see what I was doing there! The classrooms looked crowded as teachers were doing their duties. I did not walk through everywhere, but just took a few pictures and moved out.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeM6q4qVuDmwCSHRhxcetpnGN2ObOi8UEP_rC2T8hYwn-EQyZwofIDX2JZcrOFT2ubSzx0FVJoXUNE7B8P_kZ_BRPighJt3UFlTGywXQN18Br-uzpc0E7XsVCJDYUB1wBOABXda58kvSk/s1600-h/DSC02374+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeM6q4qVuDmwCSHRhxcetpnGN2ObOi8UEP_rC2T8hYwn-EQyZwofIDX2JZcrOFT2ubSzx0FVJoXUNE7B8P_kZ_BRPighJt3UFlTGywXQN18Br-uzpc0E7XsVCJDYUB1wBOABXda58kvSk/s320/DSC02374+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412180492014257298" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">The quadrangle.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEwmKBA-21Jkd4wj-Jz1viINYIvx7Ot_b58kxOz_qD8aZfmjK-tRxjgW1Zm6adl4J5j0MMWQU0Zx7qnH065UCdxkKFAEXe6RrZSqTSXoBPsvZyu-syz0U7w-sAIO5K4JYJkUfpW1z26A/s1600-h/DSC02371+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEwmKBA-21Jkd4wj-Jz1viINYIvx7Ot_b58kxOz_qD8aZfmjK-tRxjgW1Zm6adl4J5j0MMWQU0Zx7qnH065UCdxkKFAEXe6RrZSqTSXoBPsvZyu-syz0U7w-sAIO5K4JYJkUfpW1z26A/s320/DSC02371+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412180470674071426" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Another view of the quadrangle.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbRMv5GZrqSlqOchCfRhfjfmjmmcWE8z6b_NvC_Y1hd-o7_thEKjdRfHnhp7oDMONxQyqXrGOMyTfZO7cYOMlOxe3_IpCshaqPm7Bq_6AhKjX0rkmPntbWX2btCN-PMk5_bcLrXbYg74/s1600-h/DSC02372+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbRMv5GZrqSlqOchCfRhfjfmjmmcWE8z6b_NvC_Y1hd-o7_thEKjdRfHnhp7oDMONxQyqXrGOMyTfZO7cYOMlOxe3_IpCshaqPm7Bq_6AhKjX0rkmPntbWX2btCN-PMk5_bcLrXbYg74/s320/DSC02372+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412180477933551058" border="0" /></a><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDUZQQtaiB3YEy-j7FcNeRbi3dAIfPdcIp2tCHFAvLA0RsNdzMg_MPECxS2wZ9ityxgIJ00qGfXXj-cJBIqoDsfJf32F84E6zSHSR9eY88z0OBq0d276i9_UAbO3eRSIJ1da0bD_dHtI/s1600-h/DSC02373+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDUZQQtaiB3YEy-j7FcNeRbi3dAIfPdcIp2tCHFAvLA0RsNdzMg_MPECxS2wZ9ityxgIJ00qGfXXj-cJBIqoDsfJf32F84E6zSHSR9eY88z0OBq0d276i9_UAbO3eRSIJ1da0bD_dHtI/s320/DSC02373+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412180485838203330" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">What was the backdoor entry to the field in our days is now the main entry to the school premise. Note the college structure standing right in front of it!!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7BpFU0oEhVyr0JQqys7ZE4rblBDTKNy75ie2x7jj-uOwAEnY4CDYS9fhYoNY6jqnPNnZUygYqj10qk1Ih3vA2F7uENBSQKM6WUYPqt-eBRncdOlp6J3pMotPi5esuKoS4TaSjaERWPHU/s1600-h/DSC02376+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7BpFU0oEhVyr0JQqys7ZE4rblBDTKNy75ie2x7jj-uOwAEnY4CDYS9fhYoNY6jqnPNnZUygYqj10qk1Ih3vA2F7uENBSQKM6WUYPqt-eBRncdOlp6J3pMotPi5esuKoS4TaSjaERWPHU/s320/DSC02376+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412180716831901794" border="0" /></a>We used to have our 10th sections here. Some of us used to bring our bicycles occasionally and they were parked here in this corridor in front of our classrooms. There was no cycle stand in those days! Since most of us came by walk there were just a few bicycles in total and putting them there was not a hindrance for our playful running in this corridor.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmfnxaUfs_RI9mdVAvW130QMAx_3G_Mdv6UIO6OChk59BfgSVT73rC8gqPK8p2yOz0kWK4z1sbUVyzdcrq5JGVKfszADqEQlSeR5uibKBaD1Imn2KIJc533hZFDwVu_wNr7ABCEqEmnz4/s1600-h/DSC02375+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmfnxaUfs_RI9mdVAvW130QMAx_3G_Mdv6UIO6OChk59BfgSVT73rC8gqPK8p2yOz0kWK4z1sbUVyzdcrq5JGVKfszADqEQlSeR5uibKBaD1Imn2KIJc533hZFDwVu_wNr7ABCEqEmnz4/s320/DSC02375+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412180500093523586" border="0" /></a>Classrooms had ventilators below the windows and now they are all closed up. But the little pipe that is provided to take out any water from the rooms are still there. It is through these pipes mischievous boys used to put their mouths and make a loud sound that took everyone aback. The teacher would then rush up to the window shouting <span style="font-style: italic;">"yaavano avanu muttaaLa"</span> only to find nobody there - obviously the rascal would have gone close to the wall and "vanished"!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvSut1hxFgYfzdZ6f-kJNo8GPqzYGm-nQpjQYwSCufgx-7XPvYL5we-HrmlPYDdN9JLKg3n9QEjiRcKmbXCOpAy2GSZA_ZqSFc60BJhkx_GhkVLA9Pei6juHE9koCyF1KLo80UHVQb_E/s1600-h/DSC02377+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvSut1hxFgYfzdZ6f-kJNo8GPqzYGm-nQpjQYwSCufgx-7XPvYL5we-HrmlPYDdN9JLKg3n9QEjiRcKmbXCOpAy2GSZA_ZqSFc60BJhkx_GhkVLA9Pei6juHE9koCyF1KLo80UHVQb_E/s320/DSC02377+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412180718308280706" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DvmHGP6lCYXoAGwwHzXXFgt54T8UmXwk8fv70ditn2smpP8MalYuUMHrftRJGRBT9uBus3KmzBJyHN-gEV6N5Lgnay6AyG17Zx1uu-vY9bPoRj473fec8N4Vb3zt-bYhbaqvSD5YVvA/s1600-h/DSC02378+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DvmHGP6lCYXoAGwwHzXXFgt54T8UmXwk8fv70ditn2smpP8MalYuUMHrftRJGRBT9uBus3KmzBJyHN-gEV6N5Lgnay6AyG17Zx1uu-vY9bPoRj473fec8N4Vb3zt-bYhbaqvSD5YVvA/s320/DSC02378+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412180722235659186" border="0" /></a>This is the vast playground from where we tried to escape home for lunch as the 'games' slot was just before luncheon. Later in the evenings during my college days in the same institution I used to come for tennis ball cricket here in the same field. A few years later I played one of my earliest cricket matches with the cricket ball here on this ground - there is no regular cricket pitch now because the institution has grown up with new facilities. The one in the background is/was the Girls High School.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfzDjGWAbedKyK3P5f578AvAh_Z498dPNsX1IIc-kCx5kL9Ty9hB6mus7azeaXJumJlHCdOJjSLbnI9hUiPnfn2SqAER90djJyQEtO-RQgQrfRR8U7EFjqDiVSC8gXCMP7usmWrN2iFEA/s1600-h/DSC02380+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfzDjGWAbedKyK3P5f578AvAh_Z498dPNsX1IIc-kCx5kL9Ty9hB6mus7azeaXJumJlHCdOJjSLbnI9hUiPnfn2SqAER90djJyQEtO-RQgQrfRR8U7EFjqDiVSC8gXCMP7usmWrN2iFEA/s320/DSC02380+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412180840378785506" border="0" /></a>The stone protection is a new addition. Earlier there was only soil. Erosion might have prompted them to come up with this. Tree roots were then not visible then.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ-kjuZfXNdh1uuYf8zXi0neCRVcmzCS5g94-lVZ13jU9elz_YyC4W5wbrBq_7emDwPH84fKBKRb2g983zk-z5JTIRWJT0VB5mvD-ERXFN9grcQvi4sdtnpssoSGfNq2orqu3SABH7ETw/s1600-h/DSC02379+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ-kjuZfXNdh1uuYf8zXi0neCRVcmzCS5g94-lVZ13jU9elz_YyC4W5wbrBq_7emDwPH84fKBKRb2g983zk-z5JTIRWJT0VB5mvD-ERXFN9grcQvi4sdtnpssoSGfNq2orqu3SABH7ETw/s320/DSC02379+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412180731998679650" border="0" /></a>As it now looks from the far field. The right side building that has come up is of the college. Ealier there was an open space with a nice gap between the college and the school buildings.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAckk5h85WBJnvXXWaOwnkVf_S8Pj-QTzjWvSr-W5aiNKwfTo48hkk5rU5bAmhBhWcR_Z5ZjeVrR_k_Jze56_8gP0ku_pthV3gpNkgr_kMEE5KoNXciVsro8ivF-dYspNuxRVyb1q6GKk/s1600-h/DSC02381+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAckk5h85WBJnvXXWaOwnkVf_S8Pj-QTzjWvSr-W5aiNKwfTo48hkk5rU5bAmhBhWcR_Z5ZjeVrR_k_Jze56_8gP0ku_pthV3gpNkgr_kMEE5KoNXciVsro8ivF-dYspNuxRVyb1q6GKk/s320/DSC02381+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412180844462587250" border="0" /></a>At this high school, which was a very reputed one in the 1930s and 40s, both my father and uncle also studied.<br /><br /><br /></div>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-23172362172722394912009-02-19T17:35:00.000-08:002009-02-19T17:55:31.859-08:00A visit to Jothindra's<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39WfPQHIopSsryX-9-q6VywxzAJE3Cyg11rSOSm_vRR1fYUPRDMKHFwzCjRo_mX04gscyXofeim7v-Q4vIjefS3KrNbDvm_s3y1NGrcjgdndElMdQFsc52Q2Q-On9XjHrY4ykkcNCTsg/s1600-h/Jothindra.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39WfPQHIopSsryX-9-q6VywxzAJE3Cyg11rSOSm_vRR1fYUPRDMKHFwzCjRo_mX04gscyXofeim7v-Q4vIjefS3KrNbDvm_s3y1NGrcjgdndElMdQFsc52Q2Q-On9XjHrY4ykkcNCTsg/s320/Jothindra.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304691800878473986" border="0" /></a><br />Many of you may not be familiar with him as he left CKC mid way and joined another school. But we were sitting next to each other at Sarada Vilas High School, I think in the 9th. We had been in touch even after his education, because the cricket link was still in tact. We used to play tennis-ball-cricket quite a lot and practised together for some time and he belonged to the rival team. This is the same boy in the 1965 class group picture standing second from right, top row. <br /><br />His job has taken him to Udupi presently. After a long gap, he bumped in again this time through the net because one of my blogs bumped him accidentally!! I hope he will have something to say in the comment box below.... I want him to say because he is also getting into blogosphere in recent times with many articles and he has many memories.<br /><br />It was my good fortune to visit him at his home yesterday because I knew he was in town for a short stop over. The visit is now documented in the foreground of some Cassia flowers.Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-218566576648887542009-01-24T09:06:00.000-08:002009-01-24T09:15:42.945-08:00Dr.Ravi visits Mysore<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu6O_EFyu0cbfKhddxZFHy1vqP6p1BXuH0zqBh5GYXRF1LnGJnXAc-PqdyEb8JIFrreRTzMXRFK0QQ-RSa93POWn2Blnc_ad7zGMqN6Vq0LPL0JOzHxDTSDTbLqUBrYhQ0N4gUmOlHY4Q/s1600-h/P1150012.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294908447888179762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu6O_EFyu0cbfKhddxZFHy1vqP6p1BXuH0zqBh5GYXRF1LnGJnXAc-PqdyEb8JIFrreRTzMXRFK0QQ-RSa93POWn2Blnc_ad7zGMqN6Vq0LPL0JOzHxDTSDTbLqUBrYhQ0N4gUmOlHY4Q/s320/P1150012.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div align="center">Dr.H.R.Ravi, a well-known surgeon in Bangalore and our CKC classmate was visiting Mysore for a relative's wedding. He informed his arrival and the next morning he was here, with his wife. He was the one who used to make charts for display or write some drawing on the board in the convent and high school. </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I'm sure he uses the scalpel as skillfully as he used the pencil to draw pictures. </div>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-50992806670976246502009-01-23T07:59:00.000-08:002014-05-01T23:02:24.439-07:00Evergreen Memories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Evergreen Memories</span><br /><br />Gone are the days<br />when the school reopened in June,<br />and we settled in our new desks and benches.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />when we queued up in book depot,<br />and got our new books and notes.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />when we wanted two Sundays and no Mondays, yet<br />managed to line up daily for the morning prayers.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />we learnt writing with slates and pencils, and<br />Progressed To fountain pens and ball pens and then Micro tips.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />We began drawing with crayons and evolved to<br />Colour pencils and finally sketch pens.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />we started calculating first with multiplication tables and then with<br />Clarke's tables and advanced to calculators and computers.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />when we chased one another in the corridors in<br />Intervals, and returned to the classrooms drenched in sweat.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />when we had lunch in classrooms, corridors,<br />Playgrounds, under the trees and even in cycle sheds.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />when all the colors in the world,<br />Decorated the campus on the Second Saturdays.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />when a single P.T period in the week's Time Table,<br />Was awaited more eagerly than the monsoons.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />when cricket was played with writing pads as bats,<br />and Neckties and socks rolled into balls.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />when few played "kabadi" and "Kho-Kho" in scorching sun,<br />while others simply played "classroom book cricket".<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />of fights but no conspiracies,<br />Of competitions but seldom jealousy.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />when we used to watch Live Cricket telecast,<br />in the opposite house in Intervals and Lunch breaks.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />when few rushed at 4:45pm to<br />"Conquer" window seats in our School bus.<br /><br />Gone are the days Of Sports Day,<br />and the annual School Day,<br />and the one-month long preparations for them.<br /><br />Gone are the days of the stressful Quarterly, Half Yearly and Annual Exams, and the most enjoyed<br />holidays after them.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />of tenth and twelfth standards, when we<br />spent almost the whole year writing revision tests.<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />we learnt, we enjoyed, we played, we won, we lost,<br />we laughed, we cried, we fought, we thought. <br /><br />Gone are the days<br />with so much fun in them, so many friends,<br />So much experience, all this and more.<br /><br />Gone are the days when we used to talk for hours with our friends.<br />Now we don't have time to say a HI.<br /><br />Gone are the days when we played games on the road.<br />Now we work on the road with laptop.<br /><br />Gone are the days when we saw stars shining at night.<br />Now we see stars when our effort doesn't work.<br /><br />Gone are the days when we sat to chat with friends on grounds.<br />Now we chat in chat rooms.....<br /><br />Gone are the days where we studied just to pass.<br />Now we study to save our job<br /><br />Gone are the days where we had no money in our pockets and fun filled on our hearts<br />Now we have the ATM as well as credit card but with an empty heart<br /><br />Gone are the days where we shouted on the road.<br />Now we don't shout even at home.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: 100%;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: 100%;">Gone are the days when we shouted out names </span><span style="color: #666666; font-size: 15.555556297302246px;">in front of </span><span style="color: #666666; font-size: 100%;">friends' houses t</span><span style="color: #666666; font-size: 100%;">o borrow notes.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: 100%;">But we use mobile phones to call.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: 100%;"><br />gone are the days where we got lectures from all.<br />Now we give lectures to all... like the one I'm doing now....<br /><br />Gone are the days<br />But not the memories, which will be<br />Lingering in our hearts for ever and ever and<br />Ever and ever and Ever..... NO MATTER HOW BUSY YOU ARE,<br />DONT FORGET TO LIVE THE LIFE THAT STILL EXISTS.<br />IT WONT BE THERE FOR EVER. </span></div>
Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-966229481056492802007-12-27T08:04:00.000-08:002008-12-11T19:09:54.641-08:00Gorur Srinivas Shandilya visits<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnDHKhju8ehsUpdMFJNbPDnsUjQ39uC5gZqZxodou9pXkRzYx8-XrDuefaorlLKHTxvNhgTYfXfuJjv1cIVpBW8Ad5G-A8Mf4OnvpZmocSnvLBL3Y2iu0eY33lLn5VPeWSdqKDxsSKLw/s1600-h/P1100789.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnDHKhju8ehsUpdMFJNbPDnsUjQ39uC5gZqZxodou9pXkRzYx8-XrDuefaorlLKHTxvNhgTYfXfuJjv1cIVpBW8Ad5G-A8Mf4OnvpZmocSnvLBL3Y2iu0eY33lLn5VPeWSdqKDxsSKLw/s320/P1100789.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148684620312761314" border="0" /></a>His name on the CKC rolls was G.R.Srinivas. But later on when he joined Engineering at SJCE [and resided at Sanketi Hostel for a major part], he came to be known as "Shandilya" among his recent friends. I knew only then that it was the name of their 'Gotra'. <br /><br />He stays 'half way round the earth' [my favourite expression, borrowed from my favourite Phantom Comics] and whenever he comes to visit his parents in Malleswaram [Bangalore], he makes it a point to set foot in Mysore too at least for a few minutes. This time round, two days after Christmas 2007, he was already here as an opportunity had suddenly arisen to make the trip. His son Ashwin was still in the 'jet lag mode' as they had just landed about 30 hours or so back! <br /><br />During the hour-long stay here with me we 'nostalgiated' the schooldays, for about a quarter part. He has a fantastic 'Doctor-like handwriting'. I managed to get a sample of the latest in my autograph book after I showed him - much to his awe - his own letter of 1980 written to me. We have kept the correspondence going once in a while all through, except for a longish hibernation until a few years back. His handwriting was better then!<br /></div>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-5604404519432810332007-12-22T22:09:00.000-08:002008-12-11T19:09:54.904-08:00Zakir Hussain<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_BJNfvlolyGQq3IOKz3a2nJMO7Y7fYXvb0d8Wsd2rDLJ6UGcE6RscE4qQXL-3PA1kpiC6Caaw_69XdTm_azluCYJ45Uute0RU_5-N2fca3rVHaU8ZLYPgWhGlzijZ2_LvfUILYpp89FA/s1600-h/Zakir+&+me.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147047773916517170" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_BJNfvlolyGQq3IOKz3a2nJMO7Y7fYXvb0d8Wsd2rDLJ6UGcE6RscE4qQXL-3PA1kpiC6Caaw_69XdTm_azluCYJ45Uute0RU_5-N2fca3rVHaU8ZLYPgWhGlzijZ2_LvfUILYpp89FA/s320/Zakir+%26+me.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">We have heard the name of Zakir Hussain, haven't we? He was the President of the country when we were in CKC. It was a familiar name for us and it continues to be. Our friend Zakir Hussain happens to be the son of the friend of the President at Aligarh Muslim University, if my memory serves right. Well, our Zakir, as most of us remember, was popular for his neat italic handwriting, his first-rank scoring ability and his Kannada! He was one of the top five students in school.</div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;">He never misses a visit to my house while he visits Mysore from Brunei. He is one of the top five of the century too! Ask him where? In Brunei. Details will be revealed soon. It relates to his accomplishment as a Paediatrician in that country. </div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Here he poses for our camera.</div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;">This time round, I had the pleasure of accompanying him for morning walks - we are all getting old!!- to Kukkarahalli Kere on 3-4 days. He has some leisure time on this trip and so we were able to spend a bit of time together. </div>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-37557925465626259032007-11-22T23:04:00.000-08:002008-12-11T19:09:55.682-08:00Gopi and Merlyn's visits<div align="center"> Gopi [Rajgopal] called me in September that he is coming to Mysore on a business trip - for a day. He is living in Chennai for 19 years [hope memory is right]. That was an oppportunity to meet a couple of friends and enemies - yes enemies. I was one in our 7th and 8th classes. But it was fun in those days! I can neither recall why our good friendship soured nor the circumstances it got sweetened thereafter. While in 7th an incident happened [see my blog on memories] which I am not repeating here. Back to his visit now.<br /><br />We had breakfast at home. Mysore's Bajjanna Lane is where he lived. That also gave him the opportunity to visit his old house opposite Keerthi Typing Institute and Mari Gudi. His old tiled house was as it was when he left many years ago. He was happy to enter that house now and to know that his own friend who is renovating their old house close by was living there temporarily. He went down memory lane in Bajjanna Lane! We soon bid goodbye after we visited another old closer neighbour of his. </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136218806183280418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy7QQ1x5KFst6Q_kfzkPRkreMSf06yq4C9XZNam90Mn3Xf9shEwDoINIsmWq-AAJLSPr7rjWYo0qOcGajWWMF2j08SLvqNe4xWUhtfh1HqjwG_Y-UEuUDGc3ajoXBYkUyxWvA57s_Ln6Q/s320/Copy+of+GOPI+VISITS+(5).JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Come November, Meera called to inform the arrival of Merlyn from Poona. After the expected teleconfirmation of schedules Merlyn arrived home with her CKC-studied brother. She spent about half an hour with my family and then it was time to go to Meera's house closeby. </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136219205615238978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifP4bbgVhXMV06_osYAHt-U787j8Rl64ZaymTWASzL1s2CsnJ3S72N-isf6_MvyEheBulueR_e9IpF2nKL61XthoLbLsdFJAuPIm9mbax0on8rCJpStXKJmrS41epCQ3orh8KsSFC9HAU/s320/Copy+of+MerlynVisit+(4).JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">I took Merlyn to Nandini's house also, since it was very close. Nandini is an English Teacher and you can see one of her young pupils here. </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136218977981972274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEooLHpZ6GXySpf49X_jM8PLg7v430pZZrl7yPL5PqWlRSISoCTH-8aN4jBnghMsqXDid-uTceZBsG8k6xjYb3wGniw_Ykhfb2xAN18SZ_UDrOvVtUfbtZMR9kgREqeUKPEokT2N0RMIU/s320/Copy+of+MerlynVisit+(5).JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Meera and Merlyn were meeting each other for the first time in 30 years and they are indeed expressive here in this picture. Merlyn's brother returned after his shopping stint - he had gone from our house and returned to Meera's. </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136218638679555858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJeV9mxY8TsVR35VUwTUtEry9EMZ2asNRSHAmbqal3k-36sLIM5jQeNgD9LySdGSR_SjrBIUj444iFmhxxh6DF_nGzrEfxlVzfPZ5L_iPRc7IA3oRHnvCGAstta0bwdZUDZqvLhWXoIg/s320/Copy+of+MerlynVisit.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Back in August, another schoolmate - not our classmate - visited us. Sriranjini from Sydney, Australia. She had seen one of my blogs on the web and since I had mentioned CKC, she got interested to know who this is. After exchange of e-mails, we had become friends - her memory of those days is quite amazing even though she was in the "B" Section [kannada], same academic years.<br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136219411773669202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlyJ5q0BH7I1x1N9js-KQz-iDzbdXAS9Z_bIJTci_OJgzx2y4xIZ6ArBVl2cgFLfJdxfk1O2nS0svql7K6G18V0EtqJ76TRubWvb5Ry25sTDz9jAIEzrBpJSkDi2Ue2WkDenPaky-3BMM/s320/Copy+of+P1010186.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">We must make it a point to visit old mates at least to say hello, at least once in a while. It keeps us going!</p><p align="center">~~~~~~~~</p>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-74856100374341139802007-08-30T18:48:00.001-07:002007-08-30T19:09:27.524-07:00Some of us meet<div align="center">Meeting old mates is always a joy and a much looked forward programme. Another old mate Shantala invited us for her daughter Padma's wedding in Bangalore on 30th August, 2007. Some of us could make it on the eve of 30th, that is on 29th since most of us found this convenient. I had been to Bangalore that day to be there for my daughter's CET Engineering seat selection (she retained what was chosen earlier since no openings in 'better' colleges came that day, Vidya Vikas College, Mysore, Civil Engg.). The next morning we had to get the admission done since it was a very auspicious day. It was done by 1 pm as scheduled after we rushed back on 30th. Coming back, it happened to be an enjoyable evening as it gave the opportunity to meet, esp. to a few who were seeing each other after decades. The fun in trying to identify the face from memory is quite something even for the beholder! </div><div align="center">Here are some of the pictures that were taken from my small camera:</div><div align="center"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/dinakar58/CKCGroup">http://picasaweb.google.com/dinakar58/CKCGroup</a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#009900;">Rupa [Machaiah], Rohini, Mrs. and Mr.A.R.Rajaram, [Dr.] H.R.Ravi, V.G.Jaishree and 'us' met.</span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-31972318092014490212007-06-27T02:50:00.000-07:002010-08-05T09:58:49.350-07:00At the Sarada Vilas High School<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglHwkpzeiM3KKqA2uTBrR0ib9ZidvTdV8S4DiYx0oGw-mttx7eHR_rmVQToAGIN3f6uIByoHLN447QtRWJb7efkezCczvyCc87IjYHP17eEhxJ1ZIQgugZoVt2PK-98yvt6cKfYC__qY/s1600/SVC+uniform.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 340px; height: 325px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglHwkpzeiM3KKqA2uTBrR0ib9ZidvTdV8S4DiYx0oGw-mttx7eHR_rmVQToAGIN3f6uIByoHLN447QtRWJb7efkezCczvyCc87IjYHP17eEhxJ1ZIQgugZoVt2PK-98yvt6cKfYC__qY/s400/SVC+uniform.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501970345872384962" /></a>School Uniform: Cream shirt and Olive green Chaddi. Some had trousers. But it was optional.<div><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3wkviXxseakYc5QxF46ZjE3_Tuqp9FAKRiDb74DBrCb9-Y0U8U60aqO-UOND0OyTGWif0eVf14zwsr2yEDOY0hElGZ1gJna3J-GZzjJeGhHvsovxstz5nFu71fVh19bnpnHEYMeiLl0/s1600-h/Sarada+vilas.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081359264318648242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3wkviXxseakYc5QxF46ZjE3_Tuqp9FAKRiDb74DBrCb9-Y0U8U60aqO-UOND0OyTGWif0eVf14zwsr2yEDOY0hElGZ1gJna3J-GZzjJeGhHvsovxstz5nFu71fVh19bnpnHEYMeiLl0/s320/Sarada+vilas.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />[Words have followed my thoughts - please bear with the flow!]</span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><div align="center"><br />We got scattered to different schools for our 8th. It was May 1970. Passing out 7th for me was an adventure. That incident with the “pickled star gooseberry” which played its role has been narrated in a separate place. Well, it was time for us 12-year old boys to get relieved from the Convent. At times we disliked, for no valid reason, being under the tutelage of Sisters and sitting with ‘sisters’. But afterthought tells that they were as affectionate as one can get. But the best memories are from the convent for all the good things that formed the basis of our education. We boys no longer needed answering the attendance as “present sister” or “present miss”, much to our relief!<br /><br />In high school, all teachers were “Sirs”. I was admitted to Sarada Vilas Boys High School. It was also equidistant [and close by] from my home, just a 10-minute walk. I could now go on the bicycle alone. That was a Robin Hood which my late uncle was using and later a cousin who was using it also went on a heavenly journey. It had become mine. I had learnt riding the bicycle as early as my 7th year from my other small blue cycle on which I must have covered many miles in street itself!<br /><br />I do not remember about bringing application forms and all formalities involved in admission. I had a first class marks in 7th, which was good given the ‘adventure’ just before the exams. My grandfather knew the <strong>Head Master Sri M.N Lakshminarasimhaih (MNL).</strong> Knowing was not that important because cut-throat competition was relatively absent as there was no mad rush as it is now. It was a reputed school where my father and uncle had studied and there was still that old generation teachers on its rolls, with that traditional dresses typical of Mysore. Close-collared coat and ‘kacche panche’ with a stiff cap as head gear. The HM also wore this costume. It was the last year in office for him.<br /><br />So, the first day of school arrived, I attended. It was a Saturday. The next working day was Monday with a gap of Sunday. To prevent a <em>‘Dviteeya vighna' </em>my grandmother asked me to at least step on the class room’s doorframe – it was a Sunday and none was there, the gate was open – which instruction I dutifully followed. I remember how funny I felt at that time. I had gone riding the Robin Hood.<br /><br /><strong>MNL</strong> took English grammar and composition. He had that typical entry into the class. The very moment he stepped into the class room he used to begin the class with the words “In the last class, we were ….” The most silent class was that of Maths which the well-built annd much dreaded <strong>KRK </strong>took. He was notorious for hitting the boys black and blue and pinched the thighs when someone did a mistake [sometimes to the entire class!] which was very painful. Equally painful were his blows from his huge palm on our cheeks. And a ‘back handed stroke’ on the right cheek. How much the boys hated his strictness! He stretched it too long. He came to school on a green Raleigh bicycle. The very sight of him was chilling. What a great relief it was to all the boys, without exception probably, when he was sent away for one-year training while we were in 9th. <em>KRK stood for "Krishnamurthypuram Rotti Kalla".</em><br /><br />We had <strong>AVR </strong>who took English Prose. Short man, white hair, always spoke English, renowned chain smoker. His class was a bit noisy. He had a smoker’s cough that troubled him in between and he had always a cough lozenge “Peps” as that brand was known. When he passed by, that smell mixed with cigarette smoke odour emanated! Boys used to tease him from a distance esp. for his typical gait. <em>AVR - "Ardha Vade Ranganna".<br /></em><br /><strong>NS Seetharam</strong> used to take Algebra. His writing on the board was a pleasure to see. Equal sized, equal intensity and very neat. Hardly any chalk dust! Even his erasing was meticulously done. Soft-spoken, good teacher clad in kacche panche and always ash coloured coat, with a black headgear. Became HM when MNL retired. <em> "NSS - Nona Saiso Shoora"<br /></em><br />The name <strong>“MRK”</strong> used to give us chills in the spine, somewhat like KRK’s. Because he always carried that black rosewood ruler meant for hitting the boys with. Any mistake and we would get a blow from that. Very painful! He used to take Science –Physics. He wore thick ‘soda’ glasses. <em>MRK - "Madhya Raatri Kalla"<br /></em><br />For Biology, one <strong>SNC [Chakravarthy]</strong> took. He was very short tempered. One incident in the 9th stays in memory. There was one Jagannatha who did nothing wrong. Someone else teased him as <em>‘godamotte’</em> [he was a bit fat] during a class and he came chasing Jagga in the class and Jagga ran over the benches and he got cornered. He got some blows.<br /><br />Chemistry was taken by <strong>BN. B.Narasingha Rao</strong>. He had that typical jump while he pedaled his bicycle which the boys waited to see! Slim, simple dressed and bespectacled. His son also was in our class. BN Ramesh. There was another BN Ramesh also! When someone came in search of Ramesh, we had a problem – there were six of them. <em>BN - "Beedhi Naayi"<br /></em><br />There was that old wrinkle-faced man Jogi, the attender having a slow gait who took back the attendance register and also rung the school bell.<br /><br />Sanskrit was my opted language and there was the one and only Anantha Somayaji. The noisiest class! He did his job and the boys just had their own ways. His shouts “stop talking” just got drowned in the noise and never seemed to reach any ear! Traditional dress with vibhuti – sandal paste marks on forehead.<br /><br />CVR took ‘non-detailed’ English. Soft –spoken, his teaching was interesting and had us all listening. For, he had that knack of making funny gestures relating to his explanations to the lessons.<br /><br />We had that PT master VK who came on his always glittering bicycle. During the Games period which was just before the lunch break, most of the boys would run home from the open ground just behind the classrooms. We were supposed to play games like cricket, kabaddi, kho-kho volley ball or whatever. PT was always one period we disliked to attend. Some lazybones used to come with false bandages and plasters to show an injury to sit out! A few complained of fever. <em>VK - "Vadkal Kundi"<br /></em><br />N Lakshminarasimhaiya was my father’s classmate. He took Geography. His class was much looked after as he was very jovial, cutting jokes to make the class interesting. Sometimes a bit indecent jokes too. <em>NL - "Naayi Laddhi"<br /></em><br />History and Civics were taken by BMPV, strict but good teacher. Not an interesting class due to the dull nature of the subjects. I was to meet this teacher after 35 years and visit his house. He has a great impression on me because of an incident which has been narrated separately, concerning ‘bad English’.<br /><br />AVR, a short teacher again with the traditional dress of kacche panche took Geography. He also had a great sense of humour. His speed of dictating notes was too fast for hour hands to cope up with. And he used to give notes in pages! Writing it was a very tiring exercise. After many years I used to see the sad sight of him selling incense sticks in the streets after retirement, most likely driven by poverty. Here was another case to prove the old saying that the school master never gets rich. The mischievous boys used to tease him by pulling the tucked kacche panche.<br /><br />Then there was the Urdu teacher MSK who was asked to come to “take care” of the class during the “work experience” period, which was a great time for all the boys to make merry. MSK reluctantly would try to silence the class but always in vain. He would simply sit clearing his nose for 45 minutes till the bell rung.<br /><br />MKG, a tall and fair man, clad trimly in kurta-pyjama would come during one of the WE periods and teach us stitching, hemming etc. It has come in handy in my later life.<br /><br />NSV came to take Physics in our 8th class. <em>"Nona Saiso Veera"<br /></em><br />There were VSS, KGB, SR, DVN, who did not take our “C” section in all three years.<br /><br /><strong>Nicknaming teachers </strong>was a great fancy among the boys. Many nicknames to teachers’ initials were carried forward to coming batches. Some of them were humourous some were childish. But they were done for the heck of it. Here are some of the Kannadized names. KRK- Krishnamurthypuram Rotti Kalla; MRK- Madhya Ratri Kalla; AVR- Ardha Vade Ranganna; NSS- Nona Saiso Shoora; NSV- Nona Saiso Veera; VK- Vadkal Kundi; SNC- Godamotte, NL-Naayi Laddi, BN- Beedhi Naayi, DVN- Donku Veene Narada.<br /><br />There was one S.Suresh who, if at all came to class, was found sleeping on the desk often. Noor Ahmed always sat in the last bench. KRK used to call his name in the attendance as “hundred Ahmed”. One ‘Koli’ Ramesh whose house was opposite the gate of the school and he would start from home when he heard the bell! We envied such nearness! Very mischievous little fellow – he would sometimes climb the toilet wall and escape home!<br /><br />There was no cycle stand in those days. We used to park our bicycles in front of our classes and hardly there were 10-12 of us that came on them. Latecomers got the treatment from KRK who used to hover around the gate looking for victims at the time of the morning assembly and a short while after. The iron gate was closed later, but somehow one or two would climb over it and silently enter.<br /><br />After classes, some boys used to play cricket in the school enclosure. Being shy, I remember just once making use of the facility. Instead, I used to dash home to have my own cricket with street boys. Annual day functions – I never took part.<br /><br />One Shankar Nadig used to carve erasers with a blade into rubber stamp to print his name on books. I had copied this art and had become adept at it!<br /><br />Cariappa was a talented fellow. He used to get his books bound using cardboard from soap powder packing. It was amazing to me. He had made to his Raleigh Bicycle a switch to operate the ‘brake light’. I copied the idea from him and did it to mine much to his delight! He had made a motor bus using a plastic box (which I never found) and a toy motor. I made my crude model! Both of us exhibited in the Science Exhibition. Venue was the old Dasara Exhibition Building [now Medical College]. This was in our 10th in 1972-73. One Jaipal had his bicycle fitted with a dynamo in the front axle.<br /><br />There was a ventilator below the window to bring in fresh air. There was an outlet pipe below it in every class that opened towards the open ground outside. Suddenly, someone would shout through the pipe and that sudden loud echoing sound would rattle everybody. When the teacher ran to the window to look for the culprit, it would always be too late. It seemed to provide a good break to the lessons for a couple of minutes! </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">There was one teacher who wore a 'naama' on his forehead. MC Chokkanna. We came to know that he was a poet having composed many poems when he used to tell some poems in the class and later had even sold us his compositions in the form of a little booklet for twenty five paise each. </div><div align="center">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">This blog was posted sometime ago. Now, in August 2010, I've started an exclusive group for SVBHS on Facebook. The widget is shown on the right corner of this blogpage. There are more photos there. Please join there.</span></b></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</div></span></div>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7393682896198688891.post-64735605510744914812007-06-27T02:35:00.000-07:002009-11-27T18:43:55.068-08:00Recollection of school days<div align="center"><strong>CHRIST THE KING CONVENT: 1963-1970</strong><br />[The following lines have been documented as and when thoughts have come and so it needs lot of sharpening which will be done when time permits. So kindly bear with it]<br /><br /><strong>LOOKING BACK</strong><br />The Christ the King Convent (popularly, "CKC"), is a prominent landmark on the Jhansi Lakshmi Bai Road [see its picture and more in my web album here <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/dinakar58/CKCGroup">http://picasaweb.google.com/dinakar58/CKCGroup</a>]. Behind it was the famous Ganesha Picture House (now demolished). Many of us may not know that the CKC was earlier housed in a small rented building (now houses the Adm. Office of the Karnataka State Adult Education Council) next to the Govt. Dispensary on the Viceroy Road (now renamed Ambedkar Road) till the allotted 3-acre land was used to construct the school buildings in 1954. Earlier, the Carmelite Sisters of St.Theresa had come to Mysore to promote education of girls in 1944. Mother Mary, Mother General of the religious congregation came to Ernakulam from Madras and made the town her headquarters. She sent Mother Benigna and Sr.Elias to Mysore to launch the mission of literacy among Mysore girls. So, they started a high school, viz., CKC High School. There was a 100% result in the SSLC exams with the mere six girls. Who can forget Sister Margaret? She was also instrumental in putting up the school buildings, where Mother Euphrasia opened the nursery, primary and middle school classes. CKC celebrated its Golden Jubilee on January 29th and 30th, 1994. It was one of the first four exclusive schools for girls in Mysore and the other three being the Maharani's, Good shepherd and St. Mary's. Boys also were admitted since 1954 (but stopped doing so in 1985). I think, Mr.Thiruvengada Mudaliar was the civil contractor who constructed the school buildings. It was a school perfectly suited to the middle and lower middle class children without any compromise on the quality of education. It was our good fortune and the privilege to have studied there in this wonderful school.<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GlihWKpM_g7eEgALEBe1-NAlqRJ7r4nJU3qeSAyFADBFrkKT3F13VIERzxVEL_-D6h-cNY32bPi1Ciuv16RpZrfnjJ8cWq-uwXcVVm9zEoyu_JOZRgMnHzDQc0vvFxeMYDIg8TVaGVY/s1600-h/CKC-building.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081357859864342402" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GlihWKpM_g7eEgALEBe1-NAlqRJ7r4nJU3qeSAyFADBFrkKT3F13VIERzxVEL_-D6h-cNY32bPi1Ciuv16RpZrfnjJ8cWq-uwXcVVm9zEoyu_JOZRgMnHzDQc0vvFxeMYDIg8TVaGVY/s320/CKC-building.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /></a><p align="center"></p><strong>MY ENTRY</strong><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I can never forget the day when I was taken to meet someone there before joining the school. I cannot remember who it was. My grandfather's client was Mr.Mudaliar and I think it was through his contact with the school that I was admitted. I can remember vividly the scene of the teacher (name forgotten - was it Miss Rosy?) who welcomed me, standing outside the classroom, saying "Come, good boy". It is unforgettable! It was in front of the Ist standard, "A" section. My aunt had taken me to school that first day. She had been a student too at CKC, in the late 1940s. There were about 80 students comprising of both boys and girls. The year was 1963 and my classmates, many of them had joined there before me for the Nursery. I was at the Jagadamba Shishuvihar for some time and later at the Bhagini Seva Samaj before that. Something like the kindergartens!<br /></div><strong><br />CLASSES</strong><br /><div style="text-align: center;">A couple of incidents in my first year still remain in my memory. There was a chapter in Science on the "Sun". There is a sentence called "the sun is a big ball of fire". I used to repeat the sentence and read it in the class, as “the sun is a big ball of ‘fayah’, which was the way the teacher pronounced. Perhaps I was exaggerating! The teacher used to send words to my home about it. After many attempts, it got rectified, I think. My mother who was not knowing much English before also did not know it was a weird way to pronounce that word! I still preserve that book! Here is the page from that very book (Book of Knowledge Part 1).<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gsNip1t7P9QE20v3UZtnShPQ16xlr2iONYt1E0a1stnIDrfz7SrskMMGxnVFMjWHue11U6Lyl0V-niEcDtatkGNUGZ9DL6PBouUerKVuVXzWRA1YqRZ7nDt5N4oIA3UvmWKsWypNm3w/s1600/DSC02181+%28Large%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gsNip1t7P9QE20v3UZtnShPQ16xlr2iONYt1E0a1stnIDrfz7SrskMMGxnVFMjWHue11U6Lyl0V-niEcDtatkGNUGZ9DL6PBouUerKVuVXzWRA1YqRZ7nDt5N4oIA3UvmWKsWypNm3w/s320/DSC02181+%28Large%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408977423647261618" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">In the<strong> 2nd std</strong>., (1964) they had taken a group photo of all the children. It was on our classmate JV Raman's birthday (he is wearing a suit in the picture). One Madhukar is missing in the picture because he was a frequent absentee. The boys group photo was framed by my grandfather and was a cherished thing till my friend GR Srinivas (who lived closeby, but had moved to Bangalore/Delhi in the 1970s) came and borrowed it and never returned it. I later was able to get hold of a copy of it from another classmate PL Jothindra. MR Pradeep too has a copy. The girls group picture is only with KR Mangala. This seems to be the only copy available with anyone. This Srinivas, his relative Sreelatha(now in Singapore) and I used to go to school together. It was about ten minutes by walk. We walked past the Ballal Hotel (Nilgiri's shop has occupied now) and the Ganesha Talkies. My mother used to bring lunch to me from home and we would sit beneath a coconut tree opposite the school gate (where the Aya tower now is). That was a place where we later used to play cricket in between those coconut trees, mostly on Saturdays after the morning classes. There was one R.Srinivasan who once or twice came first in the class tests. He used to wear brown shoes, polished with black. That was once noticed and he was punished, rather unduly - perhaps his parents could not afford to buy a new pair for him. There was another boy who was "double-promoted" to the 4th straight away - reasons for that is out of the memory. Probably he was very intelligent or over-aged for our class.<br /></div><p align="center">This is the picture I referred above. The boys group picture belongs to M.R.Pradeep and the girls picture belongs to Rohini. Both were kind enough to <em></em>lend me their prized possesions for this purpose. I have made copies of this with the intention of giving one to whoever is in this picture.</p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107895777772130050" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVxJWzmImXYneUG7H1rSZapCDN3YD04YyiDdPH7pUXlNk30F6MLVHuXvUn_a455x-kQ1dAJ7WiSu1WQDfhhGXYDOnrJVPxaDWD88COdy3fCgLLEKEVg9-oBxnfOcWKpZ6rlz4wLE0u7jg/s320/Copy+of+P1040413.JPG" border="0" /><br />Inoculations ---- how we were all afraid of it! Because, it was compulsory. In <strong>Class three</strong>, there was the cholera inoculation being done in front of the verandah, where the mass prayer was held. Children were crying while some were trying to run away. Vaccination was another dreaded day for all of us. There was one girl Manjula in our class. We were shocked to hear about her death due to diphtheria. There was one Gayathri. She had copied all the questions in the test book from the black-board and she did not know the answers at all. We used to keep our bags in the shelf below our desk. There were five of us in one bench. Boy-girl alternating, which, as we grew up, proved to be a nuisance!! There was one Dayananda (now sits in his provision store at the Agrahara Circle). One day he had brought a ten-rupee note to the class. That big note - it was big money those days! He had brought it to pay fees. But you know what he did? He took a few boys (myself, Manohar, Srinivas and one or two others) that afternoon after our lunch to a shop near Ballal Hotel, "New Corner". He asked us to take anything there besides the newly arrived "Scent Rubber" (white and green with a printed picture). We all bought one rubber (Fifty paise each) and some chocolates. By the time we returned for the afternoon session, it was late! All of us were made to stand outside the class and asked to explain. The next day, Dayananda's father was summoned. The fear in us that afternoon is indescribable.<br /><br /><br />By <strong>class four</strong>, many of us had become friends. There was one Rajagopal who used to live in Bajjanna's lane. I used to go to his house and then we would go together to school. I was taking lunch at the school itself. The carrier was a little vessel with a lid and a handle, where usually "Sajjige" and sometimes "Saaranna" were put. A lunch-shed had been newly built for that purpose. Then, after eating, we would play. The school used to begin at quarter past ten in the morning and end at quarter past four in the evening -- a time which most of us waited! In this class, I remember throwing a silly abuse at one of the Sister-teacher as she entered the class - luckily she could not hear (probably in the noise which children make at the period-breaks). That was the first and last time I ventured at such a silly act. When a girl between two boys was absent, that was the day of celebration and we felt very happy! So, Rajgopal and me were sitting next to each other in the 3rd or 4th bench. It was the English period. We had beautiful books from "Sunshine Readers" (I still preserve this too). <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKxCWnR8npkrgNt8eTWHo2h_z00G2dI5_RZoGR0o7WluGjdxbbqR0fdx-p9-9t0d0b8ID4mub7WHCi974TUCR2JeyMt4I7FV6B_QnOzV3uzbEaiOBgyN0EVnPdiAHPN56cinvu13K1_Y/s1600-h/Book-ckc1.JPG"></a></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081358787577278370" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKxCWnR8npkrgNt8eTWHo2h_z00G2dI5_RZoGR0o7WluGjdxbbqR0fdx-p9-9t0d0b8ID4mub7WHCi974TUCR2JeyMt4I7FV6B_QnOzV3uzbEaiOBgyN0EVnPdiAHPN56cinvu13K1_Y/s320/Book-ckc1.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKxCWnR8npkrgNt8eTWHo2h_z00G2dI5_RZoGR0o7WluGjdxbbqR0fdx-p9-9t0d0b8ID4mub7WHCi974TUCR2JeyMt4I7FV6B_QnOzV3uzbEaiOBgyN0EVnPdiAHPN56cinvu13K1_Y/s1600-h/Book-ckc1.JPG"></a><p align="center">We had learnt to play with our books. We used to alternate the pages of our books, keep it up in such a way that the arranged pages fall alternately one by one and it was a pleasure to watch, of course the lessons were on! We did this frequently, even secretly making that girl to swap seats! Around this time, there was a Hillman car parked in the quadrangle one evening. Cars were scarce those days and playing around it was fun. When I tried to remove the petrol tank cap, it came off! I took it home to play with. But at the same time I got guilty and afraid. The next day, luckily for me, the car was there. I silently removed it from my schoolbag and replaced it.<br /><br />The fee we paid up to the <strong>fourth</strong> was Rupees five, which our unforgettable Janabai used to collect and even remind the student for the same in case of delay. She used to sit in the verandah using a wooden chair and table, pen and the receipt book handy. The mass prayer was conducted by the HM, Sister Margaret. (If it was one person everyone feared, it was she, a short lady, strict, having a commanding voice -- which she still has, even at her old age -- now in Avila Convent). The prayer went something like … Old man…… had a fall…. Eeeya Eeeya O… I don't remember the lyrics.<br /><br />Physical Training was another period we hated. There were two masters. One PT master was a regular staff (elderly) and it was the other who was invited occasionally worried us. Suddenly they would call everybody out because he had come. It was a surprise PT session. He was called the "Koli Master", tall bald, strict and having a military voice, his left arm handicapped (forgot his name). He used to repeatedly tell the story how it was damaged due to an accident that happened during one of his visits to the forests with the Maharaja for 'tiger-hunting'. Going with the Maharaja… it thrilled us! He used to spot anyone not doing the exercise and punish him/her. There was one B.Rajan of our class. Short little fella…. He was a mischievous lad. He used to come and virtually lift this boy with his ears!!! His PT periods were usually on 'surprise', though occasionally.<br /><br />From time to time, they used to collect some funds by selling 'small paper flags' for various things and it was fun to ask ten paise from home for that purpose.<br /><br />Lunch breaks were times when we played a variety of games, depending on the fancy of the season. Sometimes, we used t catch the grasshoppers and putting them in our pockets. Then punishment for not wearing proper attire/uniform was to clean the premises of paper - it was a job everyone disliked. Punishments inside the class for not doing the homework were usually through "impositions". I was never one to stand up and answer (though I knew it!) to the questions asked in the class - for which I have got little punishments[This is a page from Gulliver's Travels, which was a very interesting chapter in VI]<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixT3LjwlKNK2SeFzBq_eHoZ1Lr4lje3rUguoaD3FFmdS2bVIlRc9FrYv2VNuJ5JIGwqCkEifNvg50In1DKCSwwosa_NHwAgc3ZCiUBpFSC3VoNB3lCMdMzNUaJNCmexhBCMAig1nZQemw/s1600-h/Book-ckc.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081360003053023186" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixT3LjwlKNK2SeFzBq_eHoZ1Lr4lje3rUguoaD3FFmdS2bVIlRc9FrYv2VNuJ5JIGwqCkEifNvg50In1DKCSwwosa_NHwAgc3ZCiUBpFSC3VoNB3lCMdMzNUaJNCmexhBCMAig1nZQemw/s320/Book-ckc.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><strong>Mother's Day</strong>. It was a holiday and we were supposed to meet the Mother with fruits. You know what once what Rajgopal and I did? By the time we could reach the school for that purpose, the paper cover was the only thing left! It was not compulsory to take!<br /><br />There were many "peacock flower" trees lined near the wall. We used to pluck the flowers and keep them in our books. Why? Because someone had told that it would give rise to kitten after a few days! We never failed to believe in old wives’ tales – it thrilled!<br /><br />We had reached the <strong>Middle school</strong>. Teasing had increased and we tended to get jealous of others, and sometimes hatred, usually of the opposite sex. So, many of us were keeping our bags in between as a partition, as if to keep some 'evil' at bay! The notes while being written were pushed by the neighbour to spoil the script! How we hated that boy-girl-sandwiching! We envied the one who was at the corner of the bench because he (not she!!) had only one side where the 'trouble' could come! It is time to remember AK Lakshmi. She used to sit next to me in the 5th or 6th std. She used to give me a painful pinch for silly little things, much to my annoyment and I rarely gave her back! It was a constant complaint, which I carried to my mother. There was one BM Shylaja who sat next to me and she remembers that once she had hit me with her book on my wounded hand. But I do not remember this incident which she says had taken place in the 6th std or so. I used to go to this girl's house (or rather my mother sent me there) to borrow notes when I was absent to class. What I would do? I would shyly call her name at the door and run back home which was just a stone's throw away. They used to come out and wonder who called. They later found out who it was and they used to come to our house to ask the reason! Shyness was my trademark!<br /><br />In 1969 or so [we had entered the <strong>7th class</strong>], there was a film that was shot at the School premises. We were in a scene where the children were entering the school through that big gate. One of the young actors was, I think Rishi Kapoor. That was the first time I saw a film camera. Later we were served with a couple of biscuits (in the high school area, an area we rarely went) for our efforts in the few 'takes' for that scene. The school wore a festive look. The name of that film was "Devi". I wonder how many heard about it later.<br /><br />There was one old lady "Thathee" who used to sell many little snacks. She used to sit in front of the car shed right opposite the main gate. I still remember the "amla in brine" taste, very unique.<br /><br />For the school day, there was a function. Being shy, I never took part in any item. But I remember how the girls’ hairs were done (to make curls), making it to look like cockroaches. A funny and weird sight to me! I do not remember what were the items that took place that evening. But I remember the magic show that was held in that newly built auditorium. Sometimes, some film shows were shown to us in another building, the same place where I was sent for morning tuitions on many occasions - the teachers used to come early and teach us.<br /><br /><strong>Sister Prudentia</strong> was the HM of the middle school and she used to take English and Maths to our class. She used to paint our cheeks with her red ink pen if we did a sum wrong. We were afraid of her. She taught well too. Who can forget the gramophone, which was hand wound and the National Anthem would be played at the mass prayer. Sometimes the spring in it used to slow down and it made a funny sound and none of us could resist in laughing out at that. Then there was a time when each student was supposed to sing a song in front of all others at the 'mass'. I hated the day when my turn had come. I stood on the steps, hung my head and sang (from a popular kannada film song of that time) only the words "Aha, rickshaw gaadi mister, ee roadige naane master" Full stop. Climb down, run and join the line!! What courage and boldness! That was in the 7th Std. In the 6th, after the classes, they used to organize 'group studies', which we hated so much because that meant there was no play that evening! Sometimes, we were supposed to do some painting with the watercolour. We envied the ones who brought 'camel brand tube paints'.<br /><br />I hated to wear shoes because it affected my comfort. Many times, I used to remove them in the first period and wear them again while going for lunch. By middle school, I had started to go home for lunch. Sometimes, we used to come for the afternoon session in slippers so that there was less chance of being noticed. There was one Ponnumudi in our class (I heard that he died in 2001) who had become famous for his antics. He was not one who was studious. He was the School van driver's son. I remember his antics like making a somersault, drinking ink…. And to top them all, he was very mischievous.<br /><br /><strong>Seventh Standard</strong> was the time for public exams. As we neared it, I was playing on a Sunday near my house with a gooseberry pickle in my mouth. That got stuck in my gullet and had to be removed by a simple operation at the KR Hospital. It has a small story, which will be a bit out of place here, and so I am not getting into its details. I had become sick after that and could not attend classes for many days. My classmates, a few of them, used to visit me from school to cheer me up. Rajgopal was one who did so (even though he had become my 'enemy' temporarily), Zakir Hussain visited me because it seems that in my sub-consciousness, I called his name once or twice. [We still meet!] That incident made Rajgopal, and me friends again. The teachers were helpful in giving me courage and confidence to take the exam. I did so and secured a first class, much to my elders' satisfaction and delight. There was one old man [Sri Krishnappa methinks] known to my grandfather from Rajaram Agrahara appointed to teach me a few subjects in the evenings at home during my indisposition. It was time for the boys to leave the school. We collected autographs at the school. Unfortunately, I have lost that precious book (after my SSLC) where many had written "forget me not" and so on. Sujaya’s was more valued because she was the class topper for many years and we felt a great honour to have hers! The memories of the great school will remain in memory for a long time. Indeed, those were golden days where many friendships developed. </p><br /><p align="center">Here is the picture of the last payment of fees I paid to CKC - somehow got preserved. That wrong spelling by Sr.Prudentia was carried over through the TC and later into my SSLC marks card, through to my employers. People looking at that spelling were confused! I was fed up of answering them and so to put an end to all controversies, I legally modified it the way I had always wanted and it cost me some money! The funny spelling troubled me for 19 years! </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107701675315121906" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcsWDev060d7tAAP6-VUJveehrrzISZrrJZy_8jHO7jA2Gm8UG5Jn4a8MF9wogauTleFO82YIJV-7TniZ9BmD4U5-jDZ50wcGgBIz7ZpBfy8NX8LJyBpAXL_jEjEFv5i9B3GB_4s5Hl8M/s320/CKC-recpt.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><strong>Thirty years later</strong><br />Thirty years is a long, long time. Many of the CKC classmates had got scattered all over the world looking for their livelihoods. But I remained where I was -- the circumstances turned out to be like that. I had met Sujaya somewhere in 1996 or so and I was now bold enough to go up to her and speak to her. Much to my amazement, she did identify me! Again after a month I was in Bangalore. There was Sujaya again! So, this time, she took my family and me to her nearby home for a few minutes. It was about 1997 when I had been to a Bonsai show, which Maya (from Kannada medium, same class) had organized. There was our classmate Meera. Though she lived close by our house, somehow, we were shy of speaking to each other - some sort of inexplicable inhibition. It was Meera who began the conversation. Knowing it was ‘Dinakar’, she wanted to know from me if it was really me!! My meeting Sujaya earlier had given me enough boldness to speak to Meera. That set the ball rolling. I wanted to meet more and more of our CKC classmates. But finding out where they all are was the big problem. 45 of the 80 odd have been located across the world and finding each one has a little story behind it. I did collect all the addresses and other contact channels and circulated to them all. Some others also have helped the list grow. That has reunited many of us, but with reading glasses, children and families to top.<br /><br /><strong>MORE MEMORIES</strong><br />I used to be dropped at school by my mother or aunt and also taken back after school, I think up to class 2. Sometimes, I, Srinivas and Latha who were closeby, went together. For lunch, since I was a fussy eater, used to carry ‘sajjige’ very frequently which also had earned me that very nickname. It was a very tiny container not only in smaller classes. The container grew in size much later for this poor eater.<br /><br />When in 6th or 7th, I remember playing a cricket match in between those coconut trees opposite the main gate where now some buildings belonging to Aravinda Parimala Works have come up. Leaning my back to one of those coconut tree trunks, I remember having lunch where my mother came with the lunch box to supervise and also take the empty box back. This was in my smaller classes.<br /><br />There were those fallen exploded Spathodia fruit pods which resembled a canoe which I collected and brought home. If I found any on my way to school, I would hide them in a tree hole on the way and fill them up in my schoolbag and bring home to play. In summer there was that sweet-scented fruit pods of the rain tree available to us in plenty. I used to bring them home, smash them up and make a ball which became hard on drying. Numerous cycle tube rubber bands were put on top of it to make the impact a bit softer. But I was afraid to play with it as it had a hard nature. But I enjoyed making it because others too did!<br /><br />When a heavy rain had just stopped or if it was still raining, I would return home barefooted, shoes and socks in my schoolbag(!!!), walking all along the side of the road where storm water gushed along on its way to the clean storm water drain. [Clean, because there was no clogging because there was no plastic!]. Sometimes I’d make a paper boat and let it float in the current and follow it up as long as it went down the sloppy road. Before long it would get wet and get stuck.<br /><br />George was my whistle master. He taught me how to hold the fingers on the tongue and how to blow air to make the sound! He was talented with marbles with a fine aim. He used to win against me those match labels and marbles. I used to go early to play with him. He had a long thumbnail with which he pushed the marble in a game with great accuracy. He also taught how to whistle using the two palms. It was popular in those days.</p>Dinakar KRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10148152470155668711noreply@blogger.com10