We lived in the beautiful malnad town- Shimoga, where my father taught in a college. He was transferred to Mysore, an equally beautiful place. I was 6years 6months old, and was in 4th year of school. As I have mentioned in my earlier post, we were considered 'bright' and were given double promotion, which was why I was in 4th , and not 2nd standard where I should have been.
It was first of January when we reached Mysore and my parents had to find a school for me to spend the next 3 months. After consulting the friends and relatives, they learnt that the government school nearby was good and took me there the next morning. One look at the school, and I halted in my path like a stubborn horse, refusing to move. No amount of coaxing and cajoling made me change my mind. I said I didn't want to go there!
It was an old house with absolutely no colour that could beused to describe it, with long narrow windows and rusty iron bars. The whole structure had not seen any paint in its life. Through the window I could see a teacher desperately trying to make the children keep quiet and listen to her by banging a ruler on the table.( The 'ruler doNNe', as it was called used to be a smooth, polished wooden baton, 3-4 cms thick and half a meter long used to draw lines or to beat children!?)One wall of the school was completely covered with dung cakes. obviously it was the work of the 'koppal' women. Koppal, incidentally, was a rural pocket in the city of Mysore which was totally unaffected by the developments or the culture of the city around it. A woman
sat under the tree, selling groundnuts and guavas. Looking at my parents' plight she volunteered and said, "vogavvaaa, madammavru vollevru", meaning, 'go, the teacher is good' But it had no effect on me.
Finally I was taken away and admitted in another neighbourhood school.
Today when I imagine the whole situation, I find it comical. Two distraught parents, a kid with overflowing cheeks and sad eyes, her two plaits as crooked and stubborn as its owner, standing at an angle defying gravity(symbolic of her character?), the dirty looking school and the ground nut vendor under the tree! It could have been a beautiful R.K. Lakshman's cartoon!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Gangothri is beautiful! No, I am not talking about the place in the Himalayas where river Ganga takes birth. For the information of those who do not know Mysore, I am talking about Manasa Gangothri, the university campus that houses the post graduate departments. Again, I am not talking about the departments, the students and the professors! Mysoreans would think there must be something very wrong with me! I'm telling you about the wealth of nature outside the buildings.
March ! and the place is a riot of colours! The bougainvilla in front of the guest house is full of bright pink,orange and muave flowers. On the other side are two trees- I dont know the names- one with white flowers that look like flowers of guava( or still better like pannerale ), the other one with delicate bunches of purple flowers belonging to the leguminous family. Further you see rows and rows of leafless tabebuia trees covered with bright yellow flowers. Behind the guest house is the same kind of flowers in a lovely pink!
The mango trees are so laden with flowers that the ground is oily and sticky with their nectar.Looks like we will have a bumper crop of mangoes this year!
The bayan tree? What we call fruits, are actually the flowers.They attract a variety of birds - crows, mynas and pied horn bills.
Then the mahagoni trees.You can see three varieties: one which have bright copper leaves ready to be shed, those that have shed all the leaves- bare-displaying woody, conical fruits and a lonely crow's nest and those with lovely light green leaves. You may see the fruits opening from the base to let the winged seeds float in the air. The sweet fragrance indicates that there are flowers, but you cant see them! They are tiny, pale, greenish yellow flowers that can be seen only when they fall to the ground forming a soft carpet.
There are purple jacuranda, Seetha ashoka with yellow orange flowers, another tree with bunches of deep purple flowers and so on and on..... Gangothri is beautiful!
March ! and the place is a riot of colours! The bougainvilla in front of the guest house is full of bright pink,orange and muave flowers. On the other side are two trees- I dont know the names- one with white flowers that look like flowers of guava( or still better like pannerale ), the other one with delicate bunches of purple flowers belonging to the leguminous family. Further you see rows and rows of leafless tabebuia trees covered with bright yellow flowers. Behind the guest house is the same kind of flowers in a lovely pink!
The mango trees are so laden with flowers that the ground is oily and sticky with their nectar.Looks like we will have a bumper crop of mangoes this year!
The bayan tree? What we call fruits, are actually the flowers.They attract a variety of birds - crows, mynas and pied horn bills.
Then the mahagoni trees.You can see three varieties: one which have bright copper leaves ready to be shed, those that have shed all the leaves- bare-displaying woody, conical fruits and a lonely crow's nest and those with lovely light green leaves. You may see the fruits opening from the base to let the winged seeds float in the air. The sweet fragrance indicates that there are flowers, but you cant see them! They are tiny, pale, greenish yellow flowers that can be seen only when they fall to the ground forming a soft carpet.
There are purple jacuranda, Seetha ashoka with yellow orange flowers, another tree with bunches of deep purple flowers and so on and on..... Gangothri is beautiful!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
I teach science and English in a school. I leave home by 9.30am and return by 5. I do my laundry in the evening. I load the washing machine and relax till it is done. We have an airy passage at the back where I have kept a stand to dry the clothes. From there I have a view of two houses - one right behind our house and the other diagonally opposite. Today as I was drying clothes I overheard the conversation between a mother and a daughter in one of these houses.
Mother : (in a rude voice), aye, don't you know that much, what do you answer in English, for 'what is your name?' The girl mumbled something and thwack! The mother hit her on the head! After prompting several times the name came out. Then, 'How old are you?' 'I yaam, foore years' came the answer. Whack! one more! ' Can't you learn properly if I teach you once? say properly....Iyaam four years wold' - The whole conversation, except the words in italics was in Kannada. I could not stand there anymore. I walked in closing the door. It was pathetic- a four year old kid sitting at home at 5-30 in the evening, mouthing words in an unfamiliar language, when all her friends were playing! And getting punished by an over - enthusiastic, English obsessed mother who needed some training herself. Exam time you know! It is a question of life and death!What if she does not score 90+? :(
Mother : (in a rude voice), aye, don't you know that much, what do you answer in English, for 'what is your name?' The girl mumbled something and thwack! The mother hit her on the head! After prompting several times the name came out. Then, 'How old are you?' 'I yaam, foore years' came the answer. Whack! one more! ' Can't you learn properly if I teach you once? say properly....Iyaam four years wold' - The whole conversation, except the words in italics was in Kannada. I could not stand there anymore. I walked in closing the door. It was pathetic- a four year old kid sitting at home at 5-30 in the evening, mouthing words in an unfamiliar language, when all her friends were playing! And getting punished by an over - enthusiastic, English obsessed mother who needed some training herself. Exam time you know! It is a question of life and death!What if she does not score 90+? :(
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