A sumptuous Indian buffet nonpareil

The first school I attended is organizing a bicentennial (50-year) reunion; they invited me to the ceremony and asked me to share a few memories. Here is what I shared with them.

November 10, 2024

Dear students, teachers, staff, and everyone else connected in some way to LMA,

It has been a long time since I first arrived at LMA, 50 years to be exact, in 1974, when I was merely 4 years old. I have a few memories that stand out among many:

Now and then, during those early days, the staff gave us food; one day, the sugar cane juice was procured from the “kolhu” contraption outside next to the animal hospital (ironic, isn’t it). The harnessed bullock yoked to a long wooden beam and rotated the central shaft of the "kolhu” endlessly—hence the proverbial kolhu ka bail or rat race—which crushed sugarcane stalks between its heavy iron rollers. Sweet juice flowed into collection vessels as fresh sugarcane was fed into the crusher. Those days, from our lunch benches in the verandah adjacent to the animal hospital, one could look into the animal hospital via jaalis (screen) as one ate. It was always a pleasant sight to see kabootars (pigeons) and other birds capering in the vast room and alighting on the floor to drink water.

On another bright day, we were served white bread with white butter. There was no Amul or yellow butter then. In 1st grade, it must have been the fall of 1975, the ayah (helper) sharpened our pencils with half a glistening coal-black diamond razor blade. I remember this because when I tried performing the trick with my thumb and index finger at home, holding a quarter of the blade between my fingers, I bled; not everyone had a pencil sharpener, or a cutter, as they called it. 3rd-grade yoga classes held in the afternoons at the chatt (roof) were fun and a great reprieve from the tedious school work. 

The annual functions, as we called them, were entertaining; I still have a picture from 1975 when I dressed as a bheekhari (beggar) for the fancy dress competition and exhorted the bystanders for “bheekh” (handout): “De data ke naam tujhko allah rakkhe” (the almighty will take care of you if you give me some money). We were taught moral science as a subject, and at another year’s annual function, there was a moral play about the badness of sharaab (liquor). I was to play the soused sharaabi knocking at the door: “Gori khol de kiwaad maine pee lee hai sharaab” (my beloved, please open the door). To which the other participant, gesticulating, would reply, “main naa kholoongi kiwaad tune pee lee hai sharaab” (I shall not open the door because you are drunk as a skunk). A walking trip to Halaapur, merely 2 km away, is memorable because a) we had to write an essay about the “village” life once we returned to the school premises, 2) we were asked to walk forming two columns of marchers, each holding another person’s hand, which in my case was a girl and I refused. Our principal, Ms. Pramilla ji, was kind and gentle to us during those days.

 

There was an oblong rectangular structure made of hollow iron pipes as rungs of the ladder, with two triangles attached to two facing sides at the top with a middle iron bar joining them, like the top of a hut. It had been installed vertically in the playground, with the glinting seesaw and a jhoola (swing) next to it. We would climb on that contraption, sit on the topmost rung, hold the iron bar with one hand, eat food with another, converse, and marvel at the scenery afforded by its vantage point. There was a very narrow and steep staircase right next to the school entrance; with my tiny legs, it was always fun to climb it; it was as if I was going to fall backward.

To the students, I have a few things to say: don’t forget your humble beginnings, don’t be ashamed of your roots regardless of where you go and who you become, and treat your fellows with dignity, respect, and kindness. Keep your “dharm” (values) even if you travel or live abroad and learn from other cultures and people who may be dissimilar. Although it may take you many years in adulthood to recognize the sacrifices your parents are making and the efforts your teachers are putting in, know this: you will look back and remember this time fondly, so don’t waste your time on silly things, learn for the sake of learning and not by “ratta” (rote learning).

A lot of time has passed: I went to college, left India in 1992 to settle in the US, got married, and had two boys, both in college now. Despite this, I still have roots, and deep they are in Saharanpur. I long to return to my alma mater to glimpse the future in the making. 

Teachers make a difference in one’s life, and I am grateful for my beautiful experience at LMA. I carry the indelible life-long impressions with a tremendous sense of gratitude.