Nandini,Priya and Amrita-the daughters of our Mighties!
These young women are delicate of frame and beautiful-but these words fall far short of what they really are! There is a touch of serendipity about them.They are dynamos all-full of electric energy and a magical quality that mesmerizes audiences!They are spirits that fly because they love flying.Let their delicate frames not fool you-they are all steel-all achievers-all supremely confident- somewhat like young Alexander going out to conquer the world!They believe they are destiny's children!If they were generals they would have inspired many victories and they could if they wanted.They are born leaders-inspiring and caring and lighting up peoples lives with joy and wonder ! Let their stories be told by their own loved ones in their own words:First is Mighty Saras's(1971) daughter-Nandini-described in the words of her own loving husband-----------------------------------------------------------There are so many things to appreciate about Nandini thatsometimes you wonder how anyone so petite can be so substantial aperson.She's only about 5 feet tall and weighs very little, but I believe about half of that is brain. In no particular order, my little wife is a wholesome entertainer,a trained singer with a wonderful voice, a chef par excellence, acleanliness freak who is naturally efficient and organized, has aprodigious memory for events, has a wonderful aesthetic sense, and oh,by the way is a highly qualified environmental engineer. Once described by the head of the department at her university as" the smartest student I have ever taught", Nandini works for theDepartment of Transportation, State of California and will also soon bea licensed professional engineer. Her incredible discipline, focus and calm determination in all walks oflife have marked her professional achievements as they have done foreverything else she does. Each of these descriptions is really the tip of the iceberg andall of these can scarcely begin to describe Nandini's personality."Nandini" loosely translated means "bringer of joy", and I creditmy parents-in-law with remarkable perspicacity for having named herthus. In any gathering with Nandini in it, you can almost guarantee thatthere will soon be a general gravitation to a particular area, in themiddle of which you will find my wife in a middle of a most hilariousnarration of something or other, complete with voices, accents andnoises with the audience in hysterical laughter. It is at this pointthat someone usually taps my shoulder and wonders why I ever botheredto invest in a television set.Her intelligence, wit, kindness and reliability have made her alot of friends, young and old, and I am glad to be one of them. I havebeen her friend for 12 years and have been in love with her for 11. Wehave been through a lot of life's ups and downs together, and seen eachother at our most positive and vulnerable moments. Every day I thankthe Lord for my best and most beautiful friend.----------------------------------------------------------Next is Priya-the daughter of Mighty Bhagirathi(1973)-Here's Priya described by her adoring mother!A Poem Called 'Priya'Priya Ku(maa)r-that's her name. Engineering-that's her profession. Cancer-that's her zodiac sign. Choreography-that's her hobby. Anddance!!!!......that's her passion. For her life is a celebration andshe sure knows how to celebrate it. Studies for her is a last minutething, and physical regimen is a must.Whenever a friend is in trouble, the first name that comes to mindis 'Priya". She will go to any length to solve it. She often keepsher mom busy too. The stray animals in Bhopal know they have a saviorin her. She picks up the sick ones and sneaks them into her hostel,without the warden's knowledge. With her care, and help from friends,the sick animal recovers, and is placed back from where it came. Shehas asked me to use the KV....MAA forum to request the Mighties toadopt a sick animal each and give them a home. She is a Maa herself tothese mute and cute beings.Leadership is something that comes naturally to her. She is always in command of any situation and is called a 'Lovable Leader'Priyais an epitome of elegance and grace,confidence and talent, innocenceand cheer. She dances like a swan. If you happen to be anywhere nearher college and hear the sound of several footsteps, you can be surethe lil girl is making a large group of students, double her size,dance to her (tune) every move and step. She has succeeded inconverting the most shy and awkward friend into a reasonably gooddancer. Every choreography of hers is a masterpiece in itself. At theage of three, she once tried to convince a dance instructor that shewas seven, when the lady told us that that was the qualifying age tostart dance lessons.The enthu of people around her is to be seen to be believed. Athome whenever there is a crisis, I don't know how she manages to turnup on time. The moment the crisis is over, she too isgone...........to her celebration................of life.This lil nurturer is filled with supreme confidence in herself andconfidence in others. She is able to see the best in people. She hasproved the saying 'great things come in small packages'.Priyais a bundle of joy, energy and talent. You can write a never-endingbook on her. She is food for thought, a balm to your soul and a smilefor your lips. She reminds you of Lisa of the Simpson's fame and SaniaMirza of the Tennis fame. Keats rightly said, 'a thing of beauty, ajoy forever' !!----------------------------------------------------------Next we have-Amrita-Arvind Mathur's lovely daughter .Incidentally do take time off to congratulate Amrita as she is to be married on 26th December 2008-the reason why Arvind cannot attend the Alumni Meet-So Here is Amrita"My daughter is no super kid. Just a very averagegirl. But as parents we are proud that inspite of not being a bright girl shehas taken up the challenge of excelling in the areas that she was good in.After graduating with a degree in BSc (IT) from Mumbai University she went to Canada to pursue a one year diploma in International BusinessManagement.Frankly we did not want her to go that far away.But she had her way and landed up in Toronto with the SenecaCollege there.She was one of the very few Indians who landedup with a job after getting her Diploma. During a short time in collegethere she identified the skill sets of goodcommunication skills and referals required to get a descentjob and she developed on those. And once she had her first job in Canada therewas no looking back. I had applied for immigration to Canada ayear before she went for her education there. She took advantage of that andgot permanent immigrant status in Canada.Some of the highlights of her personality as I have recognised are : Good recognition of peopleExcellent communication skillsExtovert and supreme confidence and courageGood judgement and decision making skillsAnd above all, a good head over her shoulders.She changed jobs every few months, appeared for numerous interviews,prepared and structured her resumes for the type of jobs she was seeking.She did everything on her own as we had no relatives in Canada. In thepresent job as a Marketing Manager with REDKNEE -a multinational which deals with production and marketing of software for telecommunications she is the company's mascot.She is asked to make presentations to large audiences. The last one was in Barcelona wherean International Telecommunications exhibition was held in May this year.The presentation was telecast live to audiences in Europe and America.Besides this her marketing work takes her once in a while to the US and Europe besides places in Canada.She is not really globe trotting but doing well enough for herself. Theimportant thing is that she has an independent thinking process, is selfconfident and very vibrant and full of verve and energy.O Mighties I hope -you liked what you read and you will tell us about other young women and men who will shape tomorrow's world.
Pijush Das, 15th December 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
Roy Abraham – my classmate and raconteur nonpareil
Krsssh!!! Dijgeeyaon..... Dijgeeyaon..... Dijgeeyaon.... maraa wo...... (in slight malayaali accent). If u heard these words in our class in 1976/77/78, it would most likely be a Friday and the protagonist would be none other than Roy Abraham.... One could unfailingly catch him recounting the story of the previous night's movie in Nausena Bagh open air theatre.
Roy loved to tell us stories from the movies he saw the previous night. It gave him undiluted pleasure and made us feel as if he would watch the movie only to narrate it the next day to us. Every frame, every movement, every flicker of an expression would be captured by him and recounted vividly and often graphically with sound effects to boot.
Roy was a nice person at heart and also a great looking guy: fair with fine golden downy hair on his face and handsome features almost like a Greek sculpture. His boyish looks, a nice straight jaw-line and if memory serves right, a clefted chin made up for his short frame. Don’t remember Roy ever wearing trousers (full pants as they were called) but only shorts, which were always very tight and made him look like a proud male model showing of his glutinaceous tissues. He wore bright white shirts sewn from high quality cloth that his Navy father must have got him from distant shores. He could make girls swoon with his looks if he ever wanted but was too shy to admit his interest in girls, and even to that one particularly special one that always gave him respiratory problems each time she walked into the room. Roy’s philosophy in life was something akin to what Kajol would sing several years later in a Hindi movie classic….. “yeh dil ki baath apni, dil mey dabaake rakhna….”
Roy loved movies..... Hindi movies..... and especially action movies. When the whole world (the World we saw and knew as kids growing up in a C category town like vizag) was being swept away with the lover-boy cum teary sentimentality of Rajesh Khanna and the angelic beauty of Sharmila Tagore or the fast emerging era of the quintessential angry young man, Roy was lost in his own world of Jeetu and Shatru action flicks. Not that he had a choice......'cos even with the privileges the Armed Forces enjoyed or would be extended, it would not have been possible to get A-grade and Super A-grade movie to be procured for special screenings in those dark but halcyon days of pre-cable television. Getting even a moderate hit movie that was less than 3 years old for a special screening would have been impossible, even for the Navy.
It was a privilege to be his deskmate in school, something I never had, but made it up by virtually begging his deskmates – was it Viswanath or Srikumar or Bidyut (?) – to move and sit elsewhere for a few minutes for me be able to sit next to Roy and “listen” to the movie. With a very strict “one movie a month” rule at home, the only way I could catch many movies was through these vicarious ways with Roy as my surrogate. Delay in the arrival of a teacher, gaps between class periods, or a free class period were gainfully utilised especially on a Friday. I would run up to Roy as would several others including guys in the desk in front of Roy’s (who would simply turn around as much as they could) to “catch” all the action. And the story would start to unfold again after the brief unwelcome interlude that was the class period. Roy would start precisely where he had left off in the previous installment. He would show almost a selfless purposefulness as he moved systematically from sequence to sequence, patiently unfolding the plot as he held his listeners captivated.
Roy’s uniqueness lay in his breathless and effervescent rendition of scenes and in flawless sequencing. He would enact Ajith, Pran or Prem Chopra to the finest detail like a good voice-over artist and bring them to life in those classrooms between “periods”. He would get so immersed in the narrative of a car chase….. that he would do complete justice to the sound effects….. screeeeeeeech (braking)……..krssh……. Heeeeeeeeee (careening)…….. uhnnnnn (cruise)…….. and paint a visual picture using the palms of his two hands to represent the cars involved in the chase. In all this excitement, he would often forget to swallow the frothy saliva that would collect in the corners of his mouth from his staccato recitation. The result would be a “yukky” drool onto the desk which he would himself quickly wipe off with his off-white cotton hanky and would continue as if nothing ever happened and without missing a beat, till the car chase was well over and the villains have been either killed or apprehended. And the best part is, in all this, Roy would remain oblivious to our reactions – glary or grumpy expressions or the laughter sometimes even at the narrator. It was an experience unmatched in content, effects and detail and, I daresay, sometimes better than the original (movie)!!
How we miss those heady days of waiting with bated breath for the next opportunity to run and listen to Roy Abraham, the raconteur extraordinaire………
By Sreeram S (1980)
Roy loved to tell us stories from the movies he saw the previous night. It gave him undiluted pleasure and made us feel as if he would watch the movie only to narrate it the next day to us. Every frame, every movement, every flicker of an expression would be captured by him and recounted vividly and often graphically with sound effects to boot.
Roy was a nice person at heart and also a great looking guy: fair with fine golden downy hair on his face and handsome features almost like a Greek sculpture. His boyish looks, a nice straight jaw-line and if memory serves right, a clefted chin made up for his short frame. Don’t remember Roy ever wearing trousers (full pants as they were called) but only shorts, which were always very tight and made him look like a proud male model showing of his glutinaceous tissues. He wore bright white shirts sewn from high quality cloth that his Navy father must have got him from distant shores. He could make girls swoon with his looks if he ever wanted but was too shy to admit his interest in girls, and even to that one particularly special one that always gave him respiratory problems each time she walked into the room. Roy’s philosophy in life was something akin to what Kajol would sing several years later in a Hindi movie classic….. “yeh dil ki baath apni, dil mey dabaake rakhna….”
Roy loved movies..... Hindi movies..... and especially action movies. When the whole world (the World we saw and knew as kids growing up in a C category town like vizag) was being swept away with the lover-boy cum teary sentimentality of Rajesh Khanna and the angelic beauty of Sharmila Tagore or the fast emerging era of the quintessential angry young man, Roy was lost in his own world of Jeetu and Shatru action flicks. Not that he had a choice......'cos even with the privileges the Armed Forces enjoyed or would be extended, it would not have been possible to get A-grade and Super A-grade movie to be procured for special screenings in those dark but halcyon days of pre-cable television. Getting even a moderate hit movie that was less than 3 years old for a special screening would have been impossible, even for the Navy.
It was a privilege to be his deskmate in school, something I never had, but made it up by virtually begging his deskmates – was it Viswanath or Srikumar or Bidyut (?) – to move and sit elsewhere for a few minutes for me be able to sit next to Roy and “listen” to the movie. With a very strict “one movie a month” rule at home, the only way I could catch many movies was through these vicarious ways with Roy as my surrogate. Delay in the arrival of a teacher, gaps between class periods, or a free class period were gainfully utilised especially on a Friday. I would run up to Roy as would several others including guys in the desk in front of Roy’s (who would simply turn around as much as they could) to “catch” all the action. And the story would start to unfold again after the brief unwelcome interlude that was the class period. Roy would start precisely where he had left off in the previous installment. He would show almost a selfless purposefulness as he moved systematically from sequence to sequence, patiently unfolding the plot as he held his listeners captivated.
Roy’s uniqueness lay in his breathless and effervescent rendition of scenes and in flawless sequencing. He would enact Ajith, Pran or Prem Chopra to the finest detail like a good voice-over artist and bring them to life in those classrooms between “periods”. He would get so immersed in the narrative of a car chase….. that he would do complete justice to the sound effects….. screeeeeeeech (braking)……..krssh……. Heeeeeeeeee (careening)…….. uhnnnnn (cruise)…….. and paint a visual picture using the palms of his two hands to represent the cars involved in the chase. In all this excitement, he would often forget to swallow the frothy saliva that would collect in the corners of his mouth from his staccato recitation. The result would be a “yukky” drool onto the desk which he would himself quickly wipe off with his off-white cotton hanky and would continue as if nothing ever happened and without missing a beat, till the car chase was well over and the villains have been either killed or apprehended. And the best part is, in all this, Roy would remain oblivious to our reactions – glary or grumpy expressions or the laughter sometimes even at the narrator. It was an experience unmatched in content, effects and detail and, I daresay, sometimes better than the original (movie)!!
How we miss those heady days of waiting with bated breath for the next opportunity to run and listen to Roy Abraham, the raconteur extraordinaire………
By Sreeram S (1980)
Saturday, November 29, 2008
"patte aur phool and ghaas phoos"
Somehow remember the 1977 batch very well 'cos subrato-da used to speak so much about his classmates on our long walks each morning and evening to school (at least 30 mins each way). Almost feel i knew many of them personally. Also there was one more event that is unforgettable that happened with the 1977 batch. Here goes...........
Babla (Jayant Roy 1980) and I had "piled on" through our "contacts" in the 1977 batch, viz., Mahua Roy (Babla's sis) to an apparent botanical exploration and sample collection expedition to Yerada Beach by trekking across the hills behind our school. ASPRao Sir was to come with us. It was a Second Saturday and I was anxiously awaiting this "picnic" only to wake up to dark clouds and inclement weather. After a few phone calls to Jayanto, we decided to brave it along with Mahua-di. We arrived at school bravely only to find only a few other bravehearts like us from the 1977 batch, majority of them gals and just one guy (forgot his name now). ASPRao Sir had decided to call off the "picnic" quickly. Seeing all of us forlorn, he quickly showed off some his recently learnt magic tricks and asked us to go home safely back...... and he left. It was a moment that called for a decision for the Bravehearts. Do we all quietly disperse as advised or do we go thro' with the planned trip braving rain (which was still a strong drizzle). As they say, the "show must go on", right..? and especially when a bunch of 16 to 18 year-olds are involved. We decided to chance it and started our slow trek up the hills near Scindia in our canvas shoes and sub-optimal trekking attire. By now, needless to say, we were soaking wet but having read recently the English lesson of "Shackleton's great adventure" etc, we were not to be dissuaded easily. We made it across the hills and the most beautiful sights of the sea beckoned us from the beaches of yerada village. It was a quiet little hamlet with just a few fisherfolk and their kids and in spite of the fast deteriorating weather, we had the time of our lives. I remember 6 to 7 gals from the 1977 batch with us - only names of Mahua-di and Alka Singh-di come to mind now. I am not sure if Shubra-di and Medhavani-di came with us. We made it back with sea shells and a lot of "patte aur phool and ghaas phoos" to justify the botanical picnic tag to our parents. I arrived home knowing that retribution for my actions would be swift and painful depending on the mood I would catch my mom. Nonetheless, I did do one small thing on the way back - a la Hamid, the leading character of that wonderful Hindi textbook lesson Idgah (Munshi Premchand). I picked up a piece of flat stone from the hills for my mother as she had long been looking for one for making sandal paste from sandal wood for her poojas. I bravely walked into my home waving the souvenir (my saviour?) I had brought back for her. Her anger turned to one of skeptical curioisity as she carefully inspected the "gift" and dismissed it saying it would not serve the purpose. Not exactly the reaction of Hamid's grandmother, Ameena in the classic, i guess but good enough to save me from a sure thrashing. Got away with some strong verbal censure and threats of "grounding for the rest of my life" something that never got implemented like many other good schemes in India. Well, after a few minutes, of course, her motherly instincts kicked in and I got pampered well into the night, what with a sigri lit up with wood charcoal to serve as a makeshift hair drier and some incense powder rubbed on to my forehead and hair to assist it to dry and soak up the moisture. I survived though after a bout of bad cold, cough and fever that groounded me for the next 4 days.......
what memories.... any of the 1977 batch Mighties remember this?
Rgds
Sreeram (1980)
Babla (Jayant Roy 1980) and I had "piled on" through our "contacts" in the 1977 batch, viz., Mahua Roy (Babla's sis) to an apparent botanical exploration and sample collection expedition to Yerada Beach by trekking across the hills behind our school. ASPRao Sir was to come with us. It was a Second Saturday and I was anxiously awaiting this "picnic" only to wake up to dark clouds and inclement weather. After a few phone calls to Jayanto, we decided to brave it along with Mahua-di. We arrived at school bravely only to find only a few other bravehearts like us from the 1977 batch, majority of them gals and just one guy (forgot his name now). ASPRao Sir had decided to call off the "picnic" quickly. Seeing all of us forlorn, he quickly showed off some his recently learnt magic tricks and asked us to go home safely back...... and he left. It was a moment that called for a decision for the Bravehearts. Do we all quietly disperse as advised or do we go thro' with the planned trip braving rain (which was still a strong drizzle). As they say, the "show must go on", right..? and especially when a bunch of 16 to 18 year-olds are involved. We decided to chance it and started our slow trek up the hills near Scindia in our canvas shoes and sub-optimal trekking attire. By now, needless to say, we were soaking wet but having read recently the English lesson of "Shackleton's great adventure" etc, we were not to be dissuaded easily. We made it across the hills and the most beautiful sights of the sea beckoned us from the beaches of yerada village. It was a quiet little hamlet with just a few fisherfolk and their kids and in spite of the fast deteriorating weather, we had the time of our lives. I remember 6 to 7 gals from the 1977 batch with us - only names of Mahua-di and Alka Singh-di come to mind now. I am not sure if Shubra-di and Medhavani-di came with us. We made it back with sea shells and a lot of "patte aur phool and ghaas phoos" to justify the botanical picnic tag to our parents. I arrived home knowing that retribution for my actions would be swift and painful depending on the mood I would catch my mom. Nonetheless, I did do one small thing on the way back - a la Hamid, the leading character of that wonderful Hindi textbook lesson Idgah (Munshi Premchand). I picked up a piece of flat stone from the hills for my mother as she had long been looking for one for making sandal paste from sandal wood for her poojas. I bravely walked into my home waving the souvenir (my saviour?) I had brought back for her. Her anger turned to one of skeptical curioisity as she carefully inspected the "gift" and dismissed it saying it would not serve the purpose. Not exactly the reaction of Hamid's grandmother, Ameena in the classic, i guess but good enough to save me from a sure thrashing. Got away with some strong verbal censure and threats of "grounding for the rest of my life" something that never got implemented like many other good schemes in India. Well, after a few minutes, of course, her motherly instincts kicked in and I got pampered well into the night, what with a sigri lit up with wood charcoal to serve as a makeshift hair drier and some incense powder rubbed on to my forehead and hair to assist it to dry and soak up the moisture. I survived though after a bout of bad cold, cough and fever that groounded me for the next 4 days.......
what memories.... any of the 1977 batch Mighties remember this?
Rgds
Sreeram (1980)
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
The White Knight and the all time Honorary Mighty
"Eco..... Eco...... Eco (the third time would be in his trademark crackling and mocking voice)..... Hmmm......don't think I do not know the name all of you have given me", he said suddenly one day in the middle of the class, almost innocently. (An adverb that I never thought I would ever use it for Mallayya Sir). Sir went on to explain, there was this girl, 3 years our senior, who was passing a piece of paper to her friend across the aisle in my class. He saw it and she dropped the paper on the floor. He went over to pick it up and took a look at what she had written - "Eco, your voice is Echoeing". We did not know if he wanted us to laugh for this apparent joke or keep quiet. The consequences for either would be disaster. In that one moment of truth, I guess we all learnt a lifetime of diplomacy and to keep a straight poker face that I still use during negotiations.
Sitting in the first row, as I was for most of my 9 and 10 standards, and facing Mallaya Sir for as many as 3 subjects - Economics & Accountancy, English and Civics - was some education in crisis management!The ambience in his class would always be volatile if not electric. We would live every second for what it was - never thinking of of the one before and never wishing the next. Anything could happen.... there was no telling. One second it would be a lovely soft-voiced intonation of a William Wadsworth or a Keats verse in the Queen's English resplendent with the accent, lilt n the works and the next would be an extended tirade of "Orre Rashcal...... Orre Rashcal...... Orre Rashcal" with a noisy gritting of the teeth. He would go from a symbol of deer-like benignity to a hungry feline ferocity in plain 2 seconds!!! And then sometimes it would be a soft, doting father-like "Orre rashcalooo", when I guess we all would break into a careful smile, forgetting the moment before and unworried about the next.
Clad in white n white with exquisitely polished black shoes, he had the look of the vestal virgins. His tummy lent credence to his often stated love for his staple grain - rice. His face had a certain mischievous look to it, what with a "Brijesh Patelesque" handle-bar moustache on an otherwise neatly shaven face. And his form of corporal punishment was quite benign , reserved only for the boys - the deadly squeeze of soft cartilageous tissue at the lower part of the ears till they smelt of blood or a quick pull down and a punch on the back.
There was a palpable inner softness in this man when he recited a Frost or a Tagore verse. He would hardly look up from the textbook but we knew he would never have to read from it because every word in the poem he knew by rote. No one could tell to this day whether he loved Frost more or Tagore. I would argue for the latter, as sitting at my perch, close enough to hear him breathe, he had so many times hid a tear well up, belying that carefully built-up facade during a Tagore read. Just a micro momentary loss of bearing in the middle of "...... where tireless striving stretches it arms towards perfection...... " or was it the memory of his beloved hero, Pandit Nehru, during the last 2 verses of Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening ...... or when he read aloud to the class the immortal prose of "The Light has Gone Out".
The love for poetry and impeccable prose was equalled by his love for socialist thought - Marx, Engels, even our own George Fernandes and Jaiprakash Narain. He had an unparalleled disdain for the white man only to be equalled by the one he often reserved for Madaam Gandhi, as he called the then PM. He simply hated her and it did not matter that it was middle of the Emergency or that he worked for the Government. He would take offence to her standing up in Paliament in 1971 to announce the capture of Dacca by Indian troops - a privilege rightfully hers as PM of the country - but somehow lost on Mallayya Sir as he would say her contribution to it was negligible, if any. It was as if he knew this piece of historrical fact even in 1976. (Recent books on the subject have indeed vindicated Mallayya Sir and his assessment of Mrs. G contribution to this event.)
Some of his other thoughts were quite revolutionary for the times. He would often speak glowingly of the student leaders of Warangal, Khammam, Karimnagar and other such areas. He would relive the plight of weavers of India post the Industrial Revolution. He would act it out by stretching both his hands forward and shaking and shivering and would scream - "Lancashire...... Manchester..... Spinning jenny" - halfway through the class in economics and would say these two English towns were the nightmares and daydreams (sic!) of our weavers in the 19th century. My mother would listen to these stories from me each day and worry that he would "convert" me to communism. Coming from a landed community in the rice bowl of Tanjore delta, my mother would not take lightly to such beliefs in socialism. She would often urge my father to go to the school and speak to the Principal about this "communist teacher". I am glad my father never gave in to those pleas.
The most memorable moments for us with Mallayya Sir were when he asked each one of us to stand in the front of the entire class and recite 2 of 3 poems - The Solitary Reaper, Stopping by Woods..., and Where the Mind is Without Fear. Among the first ones who volunteered, Jasjit Kaur and Sitaramaraju came out being truly outstanding and Mallayya Sir was pleased beyond his self to see 2 of the most unlikely people performing better than all reasonabale expectations. I was one of last one to go up on stage and with legs shivering throughtout those 5 long minutes, that felt like a lifetime, I made the most creditable rendering of the Solitary Reaper and the Frost poem (I liked Tagore better but was afraid I would choke up mid-way unable to contain my emotions). He came up and almost hugged me by putting his hand around my back and I remember to this day the warmth of the man in spite of his ever serious demeanour and imposing presence.
Even now, when I see a man in white dress, I do strain my neck to catch a glimpse of his face, almost half expecting to find Malayya Sir's face. It is a momentary lapse of rationality and an inability to accept that only his spirit lives on in our midst but the flesh is long gone.
I am sure he would be there on 27th Dec during the honours ceremony - his voice once again echoing in those hallowed hallways...... at least in spirit. The heart refuses to let go what the mind has reconciled.........
Sreeram. S (1980)
Sitting in the first row, as I was for most of my 9 and 10 standards, and facing Mallaya Sir for as many as 3 subjects - Economics & Accountancy, English and Civics - was some education in crisis management!The ambience in his class would always be volatile if not electric. We would live every second for what it was - never thinking of of the one before and never wishing the next. Anything could happen.... there was no telling. One second it would be a lovely soft-voiced intonation of a William Wadsworth or a Keats verse in the Queen's English resplendent with the accent, lilt n the works and the next would be an extended tirade of "Orre Rashcal...... Orre Rashcal...... Orre Rashcal" with a noisy gritting of the teeth. He would go from a symbol of deer-like benignity to a hungry feline ferocity in plain 2 seconds!!! And then sometimes it would be a soft, doting father-like "Orre rashcalooo", when I guess we all would break into a careful smile, forgetting the moment before and unworried about the next.
Clad in white n white with exquisitely polished black shoes, he had the look of the vestal virgins. His tummy lent credence to his often stated love for his staple grain - rice. His face had a certain mischievous look to it, what with a "Brijesh Patelesque" handle-bar moustache on an otherwise neatly shaven face. And his form of corporal punishment was quite benign , reserved only for the boys - the deadly squeeze of soft cartilageous tissue at the lower part of the ears till they smelt of blood or a quick pull down and a punch on the back.
There was a palpable inner softness in this man when he recited a Frost or a Tagore verse. He would hardly look up from the textbook but we knew he would never have to read from it because every word in the poem he knew by rote. No one could tell to this day whether he loved Frost more or Tagore. I would argue for the latter, as sitting at my perch, close enough to hear him breathe, he had so many times hid a tear well up, belying that carefully built-up facade during a Tagore read. Just a micro momentary loss of bearing in the middle of "...... where tireless striving stretches it arms towards perfection...... " or was it the memory of his beloved hero, Pandit Nehru, during the last 2 verses of Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening ...... or when he read aloud to the class the immortal prose of "The Light has Gone Out".
The love for poetry and impeccable prose was equalled by his love for socialist thought - Marx, Engels, even our own George Fernandes and Jaiprakash Narain. He had an unparalleled disdain for the white man only to be equalled by the one he often reserved for Madaam Gandhi, as he called the then PM. He simply hated her and it did not matter that it was middle of the Emergency or that he worked for the Government. He would take offence to her standing up in Paliament in 1971 to announce the capture of Dacca by Indian troops - a privilege rightfully hers as PM of the country - but somehow lost on Mallayya Sir as he would say her contribution to it was negligible, if any. It was as if he knew this piece of historrical fact even in 1976. (Recent books on the subject have indeed vindicated Mallayya Sir and his assessment of Mrs. G contribution to this event.)
Some of his other thoughts were quite revolutionary for the times. He would often speak glowingly of the student leaders of Warangal, Khammam, Karimnagar and other such areas. He would relive the plight of weavers of India post the Industrial Revolution. He would act it out by stretching both his hands forward and shaking and shivering and would scream - "Lancashire...... Manchester..... Spinning jenny" - halfway through the class in economics and would say these two English towns were the nightmares and daydreams (sic!) of our weavers in the 19th century. My mother would listen to these stories from me each day and worry that he would "convert" me to communism. Coming from a landed community in the rice bowl of Tanjore delta, my mother would not take lightly to such beliefs in socialism. She would often urge my father to go to the school and speak to the Principal about this "communist teacher". I am glad my father never gave in to those pleas.
The most memorable moments for us with Mallayya Sir were when he asked each one of us to stand in the front of the entire class and recite 2 of 3 poems - The Solitary Reaper, Stopping by Woods..., and Where the Mind is Without Fear. Among the first ones who volunteered, Jasjit Kaur and Sitaramaraju came out being truly outstanding and Mallayya Sir was pleased beyond his self to see 2 of the most unlikely people performing better than all reasonabale expectations. I was one of last one to go up on stage and with legs shivering throughtout those 5 long minutes, that felt like a lifetime, I made the most creditable rendering of the Solitary Reaper and the Frost poem (I liked Tagore better but was afraid I would choke up mid-way unable to contain my emotions). He came up and almost hugged me by putting his hand around my back and I remember to this day the warmth of the man in spite of his ever serious demeanour and imposing presence.
Even now, when I see a man in white dress, I do strain my neck to catch a glimpse of his face, almost half expecting to find Malayya Sir's face. It is a momentary lapse of rationality and an inability to accept that only his spirit lives on in our midst but the flesh is long gone.
I am sure he would be there on 27th Dec during the honours ceremony - his voice once again echoing in those hallowed hallways...... at least in spirit. The heart refuses to let go what the mind has reconciled.........
Sreeram. S (1980)
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
They Shape the World-These Icons are our Alumni
Rear Admiral Raman Prabhath(1970 batch)-While many of you have congratulated this young man(believe me he and his wife look like a very young couple) on assuming charge as Admiral of Naval Dockyard,many would perhaps not be aware that today Prabhath is a valuable asset to the nation for his pathbreaking work in Naval technology(I guess I will avoid mentioning the precise nature of his expertise).You probably have another Abdul Kalaam in the making.
Prof.Raghuram Ganesan(batch of 1971)-is the Indian Railways Chair Professor in the Indian Institute of Management Ahmedabad.He has done pioneering work in Rail Transport and Infrastructure Management and is today one of the thinkers and brains behind the turn around of the Railways.Besides Raghu is involved in setting up numerous Management Schools in India,of which you will hear shortly.Ofcourse he is also part of the think tank in IIM Ahmedabad and would have been responsible for the turnaround of IIM A'Bad as well.!He attributes his passion for Mathematics to our own Mathsie who dazzled us with Magic squares and Moebius strips and the stories of Ramanujam..Let there be no doubt that he is one of the icons in our country.
Professor Krithivasan Ramamritham(batch of 1971)-is the Vijay and Sita Vashee Chair Professor at IIT Bombay and heads the Kanwal Rekhi School of IT at the Institute.He is the most cited computing researcher in India and has been honoured by both leading professional societies in computing: he was made Fellow of the Institute of Electrical Electronics Engineers and Fellow of the Association for Computing Machinery.Krithi's work is also noteworthy for bridging the digital divide in India.He led a team which developed the aAqua project that gives farmers access to agricultural experts and to information on commodity prices and markets. He received the Manthan Award for contribution to Socio-Economic Development, for this work.
Prof.Sridhar Seshadri(1973)-was till recently the Toyota Professor of Operations Management and Inforamtion Systems in the Stern School of Business at New York University.Sridhar has done seminal work in the areas of Operations Research,Stochastic Modelling,Valuations in Incomplete Markets and Coordination in Supply Chains.Sridhar won the 2008 INFORMS MSOM Best Paper Award for the paper titled “Hedging Inventory Risk Through Market Instruments” and was chosen over 11 other nominated papers.
Sridhar's journey into academia was after his stint as a industry captain!
Prabhath,Raghuram have confirmed their participation for the Alumni Meet. Krithi says he will try his best and we are trying to get Sridhar too.Hopefully we will have them all.
Incidentally Prabhath is the Chairman of the KV Mighties Association!
-------------------------
Pijush Das
Prof.Raghuram Ganesan(batch of 1971)-is the Indian Railways Chair Professor in the Indian Institute of Management Ahmedabad.He has done pioneering work in Rail Transport and Infrastructure Management and is today one of the thinkers and brains behind the turn around of the Railways.Besides Raghu is involved in setting up numerous Management Schools in India,of which you will hear shortly.Ofcourse he is also part of the think tank in IIM Ahmedabad and would have been responsible for the turnaround of IIM A'Bad as well.!He attributes his passion for Mathematics to our own Mathsie who dazzled us with Magic squares and Moebius strips and the stories of Ramanujam..Let there be no doubt that he is one of the icons in our country.
Professor Krithivasan Ramamritham(batch of 1971)-is the Vijay and Sita Vashee Chair Professor at IIT Bombay and heads the Kanwal Rekhi School of IT at the Institute.He is the most cited computing researcher in India and has been honoured by both leading professional societies in computing: he was made Fellow of the Institute of Electrical Electronics Engineers and Fellow of the Association for Computing Machinery.Krithi's work is also noteworthy for bridging the digital divide in India.He led a team which developed the aAqua project that gives farmers access to agricultural experts and to information on commodity prices and markets. He received the Manthan Award for contribution to Socio-Economic Development, for this work.
Prof.Sridhar Seshadri(1973)-was till recently the Toyota Professor of Operations Management and Inforamtion Systems in the Stern School of Business at New York University.Sridhar has done seminal work in the areas of Operations Research,Stochastic Modelling,Valuations in Incomplete Markets and Coordination in Supply Chains.Sridhar won the 2008 INFORMS MSOM Best Paper Award for the paper titled “Hedging Inventory Risk Through Market Instruments” and was chosen over 11 other nominated papers.
Sridhar's journey into academia was after his stint as a industry captain!
Prabhath,Raghuram have confirmed their participation for the Alumni Meet. Krithi says he will try his best and we are trying to get Sridhar too.Hopefully we will have them all.
Incidentally Prabhath is the Chairman of the KV Mighties Association!
-------------------------
Pijush Das
The First Principal
We (Me & Ajay) met Mr. Mandeswara Rao our Principal on 27 October (Monday) at his residence. It was a wonderful moment when he recollected many events and shared the same with us. He remembers most of the teachers and a few of the students. He has good memories of Rear Admiral Nair & Vice Admiral Krishnan who were the then Chairman of the School.
He mentions that the estimated construction of the Malkapuram building was Rs. 6 lakhs and the Sangathan was not ready to give anything more than Rs. 1.50 lakhs. However with the support of the Chairman the construction was completed for Rs. 2 lakhs (can’t believe it!)
He remembers the incident when students of the local polytechnic near 104 had gheraoed the school and we received support from the local Naval Officials and the matter was sorted out.
He is very proud of the School and its Alumni and mentioned about the first batch of 12 students and how he had visited the residence of each of these students and met their parents to discuss about their strengths and weakness. Wow what dedication!
He presented us with a book on “Modern Poetry in Telugu” which is in English and another book in Telugu. He has written an article on “Mandeswara Rao V: Values - Literary and Non-literary” in http://www.museindia.com/ which can be read from the following link
http://www.museindia.com/
http://www.museindia.com/
He is presently writing two books “100 years of Telugu Poetry” and “100 years of Telugu literary criticism” which will be published by P.S.Telugu University. He keeps himself busy by writing.
He is presently very frail (as the attached photographs suggest) and uses a metal walking crutch. He would not be able to make it to Vishakapatnam in December. We have promised him that we will meet him again post our meet.
Letter from Jayanta Roy, Class of 1980. 28th October 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
THE KVMIGHTIES
Unshapen lumps of carbon were we,
ere we entered KVM;
Made into precious stones were we,
after we entered KVM.
Shaped and cut into diamonds were we,
after we entered KVM;
10 carats to 24 carats - but diamonds nevertheless,
after we entered KVM.
Some of the greatest craftsmen worked on us,
after we entered KVM;
molded and cuts us into perfect diamonds,
after we entered KVM.
Artisans like ASPRO, KRISHNA RAO(PTI), PRABHAMANI (to name a few) worked on us,
after we entered KVM;
made us better persons and better human beings,
after we entered KVM.
The gains we received - knowledge or character - were enormous,
after we entered KVM;
Everyone of us has been enriched,
after we entered KVM.
Whether we entered in the seventies or the eighties,
whenever we entered KVM;
we shall proudly call ourselves the KVMIGHTIES,
from the day we left KVM.
mallik
K.V.B.M.Rao
ere we entered KVM;
Made into precious stones were we,
after we entered KVM.
Shaped and cut into diamonds were we,
after we entered KVM;
10 carats to 24 carats - but diamonds nevertheless,
after we entered KVM.
Some of the greatest craftsmen worked on us,
after we entered KVM;
molded and cuts us into perfect diamonds,
after we entered KVM.
Artisans like ASPRO, KRISHNA RAO(PTI), PRABHAMANI (to name a few) worked on us,
after we entered KVM;
made us better persons and better human beings,
after we entered KVM.
The gains we received - knowledge or character - were enormous,
after we entered KVM;
Everyone of us has been enriched,
after we entered KVM.
Whether we entered in the seventies or the eighties,
whenever we entered KVM;
we shall proudly call ourselves the KVMIGHTIES,
from the day we left KVM.
mallik
K.V.B.M.Rao
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