[Prologue: This is a recount of the School Reunion of Montfort Anglo-Indian High School, Yercaud (a full-time Boarding School, run by the Christian Montfort Brothers of St.Gabriel, nestled in beautiful Shevaroy Hills, near Salem, in Tamil Nadu State, India) when Boys-now Men, who passed out in two Batches: 1978 growing into the 1980 Batch- with some new boys joining in 1978 – return for a first ever three-day long get-together, called the ‘Golden Rendezvous’, at the place where it all started.

I first wrote this in the year 2002, in two-part emails, posting in the Yahoo Groups Montfort Class of 78&80, which ‘groups’ to this day!  We planned to re-group in 2010, but it happened only this year, 2016 along with the Centenary Celebrations of Montfort School. Read on…]

The ‘Golden Rendezvous’ of July 2002 was truly golden. Like trees turn to lignite to coal to diamond over millions of years, that’s where we are all heading! The guys have been piling up expletives like ‘one big hangover’, ‘great fun’ etc. I would, like King Cole sang long ago, simply say, ‘UNFORGETTABLE’.

For guys who missed out the unforgettable, here is an attempt to recreate that magic of the ‘Wonder Years’ of the Montfort Class of 1978 & 1980, at Yercaud, in the Summer of the year 2002.

Yercaud was mesmerising when it welcomed us warmly, with an all-embracing white blanket; most of us did not expect Yercaud to be so cold, after all these years! The evergreen Padma Stores Owner knew better, and the Class trooped to Padma to inspect his Spring – Winter collection’. He even had ‘models’ and bared all! Some sales, I guess!

The Class of 78&80 registrations at Sterling Resort, Yercaud, brought the potbellies and receding hairlines together, the beautiful wives and naughty kids, coyly looking at ‘their master creations’ from behind…with pride! The nick-names were all dug out and thrown around, but some like ‘crotch’ (Satyanarayana) faced sudden death (respecting the wife’s sentiments). Others like ‘homo’ (D. Mohan) ‘machaan’ (R. Manoharan) and ‘Chew’ (Ramesh Babu) scored, won great applause and would perhaps live to see 2010. ‘Are-you fame’ Rajkumar topped the hairline charts, came clean on top with LOC borders, followed by Chew – watch this space, needs a wife shine! Ponni (Pon Rathnam) offered stiff competition, showed great promise! Potbellies? Ponni was unbeatable in this area and had the biggest of them all!

Small & short Sabu Ganesan showed that he is made of real big stuff (which we never seemed to notice at School, or did we?) when he displayed his ‘one-shot’ triplets!!! Two daughters and a son! He appeared with a ‘bushed’ down Bin Laden beard! His wife helps him tear down tower teeth in Dubai. Watch out for the Sabu’s they are armed-to-the-teeth with genuine Indian made (population) exploding ‘trishul’ missiles! He is our ‘Top-Gun’.

Muscleman ‘Blunder’ (V.Suresh) came, stripped off his great muscle (Arnie stole them for Terminator-3?). He was one guy who was a pale imitation (physically) of his former self: otherwise, he ‘looked great’. Remember, I was his side-kick, trying to add muscle to my all-bone figure!

That evening, the arranged interaction with the Leaving Batch of Montfort, showed that that Montfort boys are still girl-starved. Montfort was gradually going co-ed, and the boys were concerned (actually thrilled) about the ‘purity levels’. Sudharkar preached IBM (he is being paid well). Rajiv spoke about ‘virtue & labour’ and Venkatachalam about ‘education’ (he is a University Chancellor!). I had to intervene to steer the interaction back to the girls (the tradition continues – old boys too are girl-starved?) and told them that the girls in Montfort would ultimately help them ‘become men’ sooner (The boys-being well read, gleefully applauded).

The informal dinner at Sekar’s Estate, saw the Class of 78&80 unplugging in MTV style. This created the perfect ambience for greater things to come! Non-smokers & Non-boozers emerged from the unbelievable (past) shadows to ‘down the spirits of Scotland & Ireland’. The wives too warmed-up, and the kids filled in the gaps with game & dance! Lala (Ravichandran) put up a ‘spirited’ show and showed the world he could also dance!

The show-piece and most unforgettable was the Reception the Class of 78&80 received at the Assembly of Montfort School, the next day. This was a master-piece painted by Principal ‘Fuse’. It was as if a doting mother had come out in all her splendour to welcome her long gone sons. The entire school had uniformed and assembled to sing hosannas to one of the best batches ever – they said so (a gathering of Chancellors, Vice-Chancellors, Scientists, Lawyers, Doctors Engineers & Businessmen…said Fuse). Ponni fulfilled his long-time ambition of addressing the school Assembly – a wonderful speech in ‘chaste English’. Joseph Kodianthara too addressed and enthralled with plain lawyer stuff (no wonder he is a damn good lawyer). This was followed by a ‘Fuse-guided-tour’ of the school, for the wives & kids. Daddy sat here…’slept there’ – the wives could be heard ‘explaining’ to the kids! With the hunger thus generated, we all explored the culinary delights of the school kitchen: a Buffet which served almost everything except ‘humming-bird tongues’.

After a splendid 1^st Day at School, we had to recoup at Sterling Resorts for a while. Later, guys like Rajiv, Lala & Selvi had the right buoyancy to lap in the swimming pool while the Class of 78&80 cricket team warmed up under ‘Casku’ Ashok Rajan Thomas to ‘world-cup’ the School Team (we ‘fixed-up’ with Azhar & Sangeeta at their new Gymn at Hyderabad on the work-out regime, what is their mobile number?) We batted first and walloped about 125 runs in ten overs. Indrajit (karuppi / blackie) was the scorer. Gee… he is a wiz at mathematics! ‘Casku junior’ was voted the best cheerleader-he swore it was impossible for his Dad to get out – the senior lived up to that! Sudharkar ‘moused the ball’ well, Rajiv tried in vain to knock his wife, Shalini, off the boundary wall…almost did it once! The school team did not get to bat as they were ‘Fused-off the field’- study time, said the boss! Casku swore he smelt bowling talent and even offered bowling tips. Meanwhile, we won effortlessly. “Match-Fixed” screamed the bookies! Oh Azhar!

The kids, then played football with the fathers: Shyam with his ‘walrus moustache’ as cross-hair aim ‘pele-d’ the ball-he is a natural ball player: guys would recall that he was a great Table Tennis Champ at School-imagine him seeing ping-pong balls the size of footballs!

We waited to hear the school siren yell the end of the day/school study hours, to treat the boys to a spectacular fireworks display on First Field, touched-off by Veera-led experts – ‘dil maange’ more, the boys demanded! Rajiv finally remembered his cricket and managed to edge a ‘sparkling-fire googly’ to an unsuspecting Shalini-almost burnt her for ‘Delhi dowry’ but we (like the heroes in the movies) saved her-reality bites! The white blanket mist-of my 1^st day recount – came alive again and we could not ‘maange more’ honour the pepsi slogan!

15 years (remember, I was a ‘SHY girl’ for three) of counting the ‘PWD holes’ on the Yercaud roads helped, as I led a Class of ‘blind guys’ back to Sterling Resorts, with my ‘eyes wide shut’: the mist was so awfully thick that one could barely see beyond the car bonnet!

We then ‘helped our wives get dressed’ for the formal dinner at Sterling! ‘Chew’ displayed ‘great shine’ as the master of ceremonies with his elegant wit & timed repartee. Lord-of-the-rings (Bro. Lawrence) gave us mind-boggling statistics of our excellent record at School (did we do all that?). Muruga-of-the-cows (Bro. Joseph) could not keep his strict bearing any longer and ‘cowed’ down, spreading the ‘milk of goodness’ all over! Principal Fuse spoke again-bored us to death this time, well almost! Then it was a return to ‘the spirits of Scotland & Ireland’. The kids and wives ‘V channeled’ on the dance floor…into the night. Tunku’s wife was a ‘High-Court hit’ so were Sampath’s sweet-sixteen daughter and Ponni’s going-on-fourteen son (they made a ‘sound of music’ pair – sorry he’s not seventeen!) and the Sabu trishul-missile-launched triplets! Meanwhile, many sneaked out…visited haunted houses, probably saw ghosts…and they have their own stories to tell! Go get them from the horses’ mouth!

We woke up the next day (3^rd Day) to Picnic at Fir Tree Estate-some walked their legs, others their cars! This spot is on the way to Aeroplane-Stream and belongs to an Uncle of R.M Narayanan, who has a daughter studying in a Business School and has high hopes of becoming the first Class 78&80 ‘official’ grandfather, but only after good old Appuswamy. Incidentally Appuswamy appeared during the cricket match, the day before: Appu left after Class VIII and married the very next year – I remember he had the nerve to send us a wedding photo! In that part of the country, near Salem, where he lives they call him “Vairamudi Gounder” (the Landlord with diamond hair). He left the same day and we could not get to pluck any ‘diamonds’ off him! Appu has ‘grandfathered’ many grandchildren (he is ‘western cool’ and quick on the draw).

The food and ‘spirits’ were simply outstanding at the picnic and throughout the re-union. For the first time in my life I noticed, I had a growing soon-to-be-pot-belly! At last, I had something before me! Can’t wait to ‘explode’ in 2010?

Suddenly it was all over….and the goodbyes began. We recorded on video and still photograph, gave our best smiles-showed ‘wonderfully polished’ teeth, standing among the potbellies, receding hairlines, beautiful wives and kids-who looked liked mom plus dad (I swear!) and sang…must we now part for ever…

Must we?

[Epilogue: The entire show was beautifully threaded by Venkat, Tunku & others of the Organizing Committee. The best part of the re-union was the ease with which we could connect with one another – a smile, a simple nod of the head, a tooth here (sometimes toothless!) a ‘Hi’ there was all that was needed to get a conversation going. We just talked and laughed as if we had known and been together all along…amazing! If we had kept all this among ourselves, there would have been no beauty to show off…many a flower is born to blush unseen and waste its fragrance on the desert sand…(Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard – Thomas Gray, Class X, I think!) Now, the wives and kids, by participating have become a part of the Class of 78&80 and have witnessed the beauty of Re-Union. They will help us keep these precious memories and thoughts alive…and that’s how we keep ‘evolving’ (please do ‘grow’ grandchildren and bring them along in 2010 Ha!)]

 

 

It’s the Wedding Season again in this part of Southern India and the Wedding Invitations come in a flood, draped in various outfits and mesmerising Spring-Summer collections: from midget-Small, through the normal –Medium & Large to the epic Encyclopedia ones – Extra Large, Double & Triple Extra Large! Each Invitation tells a story and provides a sumptuous meal for thought.

For starters, many do not seem to know the difference between ‘Wedding and Marriage’. Often they invite us to ‘take part in the marriage’ and most do the job by ‘soliciting’. The English language has become so common that it is not uncommon to ‘marry its misuse’.

A Wedding is a Ceremony, a Function, an Event, where a Man and a Woman (or, as things have now evolved – between any two persons) get married with all kinds of chants, hymns, blessings being thrown on the young (maybe old too) couple, hoping that they catch them all and stay married (to each other), and live happily together, hopefully for the rest of their lives. We invite family and friends to attend the Wedding Ceremony, and partake as witnesses (for legal purposes and future boundary issues) or as participants in the joyful celebrations. Once the Wedding event is over, the invitees ‘consciously uncouple’ from the Wedding so that the just married couple can get along with the more serious business of ‘executing the marriage’ or, if they cannot, at short notice (sometimes it happens within minutes – like a famous Virgin would sing to you!) they divorce, and may get married again in another Wedding Ceremony. Got it? Of course, the Wedding bells ring-in on property and inheritance and intends to put a cap on them for future claims – cash or estate!

Now let’s move ahead to the wording of the Wedding Invitation itself. I find it awfully hard to accept the word “solicit” (typically an Invitation would begin with, I solicit your esteemed presence…) find an honourable place in a Wedding Invitation, given the history of the word “solicit”. It might now be quite normal to use the word more generically – in an ever changing world; but if you dig the history of the word “solicit” you find that it is typically applied to Prostitutes earnestly requesting sex-work; gathered in the heart of the City or in the dark by-lanes of a Town or in the arteries of a Village; they tout for business, make sexual advances to secure business in sex. Wow! Would you solicit people to attend a Wedding? What business are you in?

A Wedding Invitation – I would not invite anybody to my marriage (that’s confidential) – being formal, should it not be in the third person? It is the one occasion in your life where you treat yourself  as a Queen/Princess or King/Prince? Hence, you would say, His Royal Highness invites so and so…rather, Mrs and Mr Kumar invite you to the Wedding of their Daughter/Son… We would expect guests to attend the Wedding, eat, drink, dance, make merry and leave – and not stay back to ‘participate in the process of marriage’, would you? It’s not difficult to visualise the consequences!

So much for the titles, lets move over to the sub-titles. It’s almost mandatory to pout the educational qualifications of the Bride & Groom and where they are employed. I saw an invitation where – thank the Printer – the degree / educational qualification of the Bride & Groom was not mentioned, but that of the brother of the bride was boldly indicated (almost with a shout) that too with an unfinished stroke over the Post Graduation. Is this an advertisement, rather ‘soliciting’ a partner – next in line? Then, there are others where a long list of who’s who in the Country (sorry, Family) is listed, as special invitees, along with wives, children (they are called fancy names in the vernacular, such as ‘kutties’ – kids); maybe someone will add their pet dog and cat too! The worst is, if you invite a Political Biggie to head the Wedding; then it’s all banners and party festoons, and colours and designations… you will have to hunt with marriage dogs for the Bride & Groom in the Invitation!

Why cannot we simply keep the Invitation simple and formal – talking about the couple and their parents (or the inner circle) – nobody else, and how, and where the Celebrations are being held (and whether to bring small or large presents). Does it ever matter! There was one Invitation which came in the form of a ‘Large’ gold spangled Booklet (cost would have sufficed for a quick honeymoon trip in the nearest Hill Station) where there was never one mention of a phone number one could call up to RSVP! Well they were a highly placed Business Group, high also in Society and perhaps they though that including a phone number would be equal to soliciting? (Business, or otherwise!).

Lets invite guests to the Wedding Ceremony and allow the couple to keep the marriage between themselves! Mind the Invitation!

[Prologue: I wrote this hilarious Essay in 2008, after I moved to Delhi in 2006, at a time ‘road-rage’ was fashionable  on the Delhi roads, and when you could get shot for daring to challenge someone messing with the traffic rules! Perhaps, it’s still about the same!]

I’ve always been fascinated by Cowboys, Red-Indians (and John Wayne movies) and the wild-wild West. I never realised how much of an Urban Cowboy I had become living on the wild-wild Delhi ‘trail.’

I drifted in from yonder Southern state of Tamil Nadu and speak with a cool ‘idli-sambhar’ drawl. I wear two ‘temper guns’ slung low on the waist, the butts smooth with constant use. I had almost become a domesticated guy before riding, into Delhi, many years ago, when a certain Delhi Lieutenant  / Sheriff made me realise that without an ID, I have no identity and live in a lawless Country. For months, I laid sprawled on the sidewalks and then one day, I bought myself a 45 Horse Hyundai at the Double ‘H’ Ranch – a mix of Korean & Indian stock, said the Dealer – and rode into Town!

I ride furiously, the spur always drawing blood. I ferociously guard the trail and shoot down anyone crossing my path, both guns blazing. I am a name to reckon with in these parts and they call me SUDDEN. At the cross-roads, I ride like hell fearing a ‘Red Indian’ ambush but slow-down on seeing Orange and stop on seeing Green. I feed my Horse speed-grass with energy boosters, at the local filling station and saddle him up myself!

I met a sullen beauty with raven black hair (cascading to her waist – I wished it did!) and we bought ourselves a place at the edge of the Delhi creek, near the Yamuna-Grande River, overlooking the Double ‘H’ Ranch, and called it the Double ‘M’ Ranch. We raised a single kid who grew into an Urban Cowboy as well, but drove Colts like we did ’em grown up Stallions! We often meet-up over mug coffee at the Home camp-fire place, ‘herding cow stories’. He affectionately calls me ‘Dad’, tosses over an iPhone and sleeps in the saddle – but watches my back!

I’ve never been bushwhacked and live to tell my tale.

Indian Independence Days are becoming mighty routine with the Government wearing colourful turbans and ‘Talking Loud’ from the ramparts of the Red Fort in a ‘strange language’ – that many of us think we understand. We then digress to the life of the Father of the Nation; debate about Gandhi & Bose (who did a better job in getting us our Independence: the one with the Stick or the one with the Gun?), and go home to watch the mother of all TV Shows: the Tamil style debates, ‘Patti-Mandrams’ do roaring business on such occasions. Along the way, we buy and wave the tri-colour or glue it to the ‘podium’ of our cars, where it stays!

I’m a wee bit cynical at the moment, seeing the disastrous performance of India at the Rio Olympics. One little girl, Dipa Karmakar showed us – in a brief ‘Produnova’ vaulting moment – that we are actually made of mind-boggling stuff deep inside, but refuse to flex that muscle & use intrinsic yoga powers for snake-charming our way to a ton of medals! Remember, we once won an uninterrupted string of Gold Medals in Hockey (…they came, like Wordsworthian daffodils, in a never ending stream) – stick-to-stick and then… one fine Olympic Summer, we got beaten blue, black & brown, by the biggest stick, ever. No looking back!

Time to readjust our cross-hairs, focus and set ourselves a ‘modest’ goal of winning not less than 20 Medals (any metal) in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. Let’s do it!

Over the past weeks I watched with glee, the passing of India’s path-breaking Goods & Services Tax (GST), but was disappointed that the “Ammadified” Men-in-white of the AIADMK (a Regional Political Party of Tamil Nadu, headed by a Leader who calls herself Amma – mother ) chose to stage a walk-out of Parliament – while every other Party voted, ‘Yes’. Walking-out is now a full–time job of the Tamil Nadu Politician: the DMK (the Opposition party in TN) is always doing it in Chennai; and with the Zika Virus having infested the AIADMK with the deadly walking-out disease – they are doing the same in Delhi. Right now, the Vesthi’s & Lungi’s are down. But, may be a time would come when they would lift it, fold it neatly half-way, show their stripes (shoot-the-cat: translate to Tamil, literally), and stage a cat-walk out! You never know! The DMK Opposition Leader should have stuck to his colorful pants (& shirts) –perhaps borrowed a sun-striped suit & boot from the Honorable PM of India.

Meanwhile, at the Rio Olympics, India has outsourced all Medal Winning to a certain Mr. Phelps (spotted with ancient Chinese pain killing bubbles on his Herculean shoulders) – we gotta check out his genes: maybe there is an Indian hiding somewhere! By the time India wins a medal, Rahul Gandhi may grow a very long white beard and PM Modi may switch to a clean-shaven look! We hope that they, and we, get meaningful insights by then!

The ‘Discovery of India‘ is happening again, and Indian Parliamentarians have finally discovered that POK is an integral part of J&K and India! Wow! Wonder, what the PO is doing in K? Should not we take back what is rightfully ours? Send Rajinikanth to sing in Kashmir…MGR’s did not work! Someone is already shooting Kabali-2? Or, why not ‘Kashmir Beautiful Kashmir’

There’s a lot happening in India! Some things happen only in India!

The death of Muhammad Ali, brought back a double glove-full or memories of my own Boxing Days. When at Montfort School, Yercaud, TamilNadu, India, I was tweeny-weeny guy – one that a tiny gust of wind could easily blow-off of to the edge of the World: I decided to box myself out of my bony frame and enrolled for Boxing Coaching under our then School Instructor Tiger ‘Nat’ Terry (TNT was his Boxing Ring Name in the Madras Presidency /State days) who looked very much like  Ali himself. TNT ‘had a history’ – he had come to India, from Indonesia, for Boxing-Ring Fights and during an Organised Fight challenging the then Madras State Champion (I think, a Mr. Arunachalam) he gave such a powerful & deadly uppercut that it missed his opponent’s chin and knocked-off (pulled-out, literally) his nose, leading to the Madras State Champion’s death. You know the Tamil Nadu crowd: they went berserk and hounded TNT, who took refuge in Yercaud…and ended up teaching boxing in Montfort. He boasted he could beat Muhammad Ali – if given a chance, and in fact he could hit the spring-ball with equal speed, during practice. Believe me, I had seen him do it!

Most of us kids at School landed our first punches on his ‘ample tummy’ – which he encouraged – to show of his grit in taking it all!

Under his coaching, I earned my first Ring-Fight, in the ‘Mosquito-Weight category’ in Class 10, I think, with a classmate – Ravi Gandhi – It was a 3 round fight, each lasting about a minute and the Winner was declared on points earned basis (Ali kind of Knock -outs were rare). Well, I fought damn well – but lost, and the surprise was, I was declared ‘BEST NOVICE LOSER’ and got a Cup bigger than the guy who beat me – I still have it (with a Nose very much intact!). I’ve been a ‘Fighter’ ever since… won some…lost some! (Life’s vicissitudes!)

The Butterfly and Bee became famous, only because of Ali’s famous line, “I float like a Butterfly and sting like a Bee“. Who can forget that famous Muhammad Ali based song by Jonny Wakelin, ‘The Black Superman’ (catch me if you can…) – one of my all time favourites. Muhammad Ali’s tongue competed with his famous EVERLAST gloves in throwing punches – one could hardly tell the difference. Never mind, he brought Boxing on to the World Stage like never before and like none before him. He fought four equal & fair rights for his kind and that ‘sparkle in his eyes’ was a signature tune. Only Parkinson’s Disease could knock him off, after Joe Frazer and George Foreman. RIP Muhammad Ali!

When Little Red Riding Hood ventured into the Forest to see her sick Grandmother, living on the edge, on the other end, her Mother sends her off with the Words, ‘Don’t talk to strangers’. She did just that, and the rest is a ‘grim’ fairy tale!

My car was due for service, and a female voice at TVS Sundaram Honda, Salem, kept pounding my phone for a date. I finally relented and said 30^th May was all right – book a sexy slot at the 8.30am Calendar Table – so that ‘delivery’ can happen by 12 Noon. We had a deal!

So there I am sitting in the Customer Lounge – after handing over the car keys, true to date and having signed on the Job Card – reading the morning Newspaper; in walks a white (clad in a clean white short sleeve shirt and matching well-ironed white pant), surely 75+, old man and settles down next to me. After a few tense moments of come-hither, look-yonder looks, our eyes met and we started a wonderful conversation. It appears that he thought 9am was an early-bird time and with that kind of an appearance he could get back his Car before lunch-time. Sorry, I told him, I arrived at 8.30am and there were already 10 cars ahead of me, and I willed a time of 12 Noon. We both joked about how we could have queued up with our neem-tooth brushes, folded lungi and mug of water – early birds get the worm! We then talked about education – why kids are becoming dumber at Schools and how wider travel would open-up minds, why the environment at home is so important to grow confident kids, how working in Mumbai makes men out of children; the inevitable Jayalalithaa (strong & courageous – he said); of course, Karunanithi (brilliant, clever – he said); Modi Sarkar, and how good governance is what we need – not table fans, cows & goats but roads and infrastructure to go on and buy them of your choice; Ramayana – why following rules is awfully important and how a King decides when & how much of a punishment is enough; Mahabharata – why we need to get over the Arjuna-effect in our lives; Running Power Plants; Building Airports…etc., ending with me demonstrating Modi’s Digital India initiative – asking for his car (actually his Daughter’s) number and by instant return SMS finding the Owner. In between, I quickly slid to the nearby KFC, grabbed a Snacker by the throat – ate it, and returned to continue the conversation. When we finally unlocked our eyes it was 12 noon, and my car was ready. I hurriedly said goodbye and left quickly – dragged by the Service Advisor to ‘pay’ for the ‘date service’ and clear the area. It was all over in a flash. No names, no nothing. I had been talking to a complete stranger… and immensely enjoyed it – felt younger (minus 70 ) Ha!