She stood towering over me. When i dared to look up, i could see only her thick dark legs with the prominent varicose veins, before i lowered my gaze again. All of five, it was my first day at school. Twenty odd students, of which i was one. That day i discovered that drawing was not going to one of my skills. She was the drawing teacher and she had commanded us to draw a... a Chilly ! Which for the life of me i couldn't.. my hand was shaking so much. Thankfully the bell rang before my turn came to display the sorry squiggle that i had drawn, which i would have had to display to the class ! We were herded out to the water taps, where in this room milk was served to all the children. Big mugs which we had to down before we were allowed to file back to class.
Lunch hour. Nobody told me that it was that, and that school was not over. There i sat, weeping silent tears, on the bench, before i heard her sweet voice. My sister. whom i had presumed had left without me, and gone home. She sat down beside me, held my hand in hers and opened my tiffin box, assuring me all the while that she would never leave without me. Smiling broadly thru the tears, i made short work of the biscuits before happily bounding off to class when the bell rang.
The rickshaw ride back home was fun. Both of us climbed into the first available one and off we went. After having paid him the princely sum of fifteen paise, we embarked and rushed up to the home and mum.
Welland Gould Smith. My first school. Where the fees were something in the region of thirty odd rupees.
And so we studied. I until class seven, ben until ten. For some such paltry sum. Then first sis shifted then i did to Calcutta Girls High School. Nearer home and walking distance. Our Principal there was an American. A fine lady always accompanied by her fierce dog, Mesca. Not that she needed one, because all us girls were already in awe of and highly intimidated by her. A tall lady, sparkling eyes glinting behind her spectacles, who mwas queen of her domain, indeed of all that she surveyed. You never knew when you would meet her, around which corner of school. When first i went for admission with my dad, i was a shoo in.. "Oh, Tasneem's sister." And admission was that easy. In those days. I was bad at maths, scraped thru with a woeful 45% in the boards, ICSE in class ten. Topped in English with 90, though. But then, we studied in candlelight most days, because of six and seven hour power cuts that lasted entire nights sometimes. I remember working on problems at twelve at night, with two candles on either side of my desk. I, who was normally in bed by eight p.m. No Television, and the government made sure our night vision was honed !
Taking tuitions was a big NO. An insult, because only very poor students took them, and that too was hushed and never spoken of publicly !
In spite of the pathetic marks, i ended up in class eleven, with maths and science as my subjects, the aim being to give the medical entrance exams, which dad had decided we both would give. My pathetic math scores put paid to those plans. But i greatly enjoyed my years at CGHS. I was one of about eighteen students! We were thick pals. Our group consisting of a punjabi, two sindhis, one bengali, a south indian, a christian, a marwari, and a muslim, myself ! Talk of national integration. We ate greedily from each others tiffins, organised parties and raffles, even a junk sale, and sold drinks, rasna, at break times, thanx to our enterprising President, and my best chum.
Winter was in the air when i casually strolled into school, wearing my black cardigan, as we called sweaters in those days. Early October. Until January. Climate change ? Whoever heard of it. The P word had not been sighted as yet. The ozone layer was very much intact and the world rotated along peacefully, as did ours. We were nor scared to walk the roads, and as children played happily and safely together, while our parents went about their work. Books were our sole companions. Pods meant peas, and pads meant periods! For music we tuned radios and fine tuned them to 'catch' our favorite stations. Hippies were the rebels, and only the beatles really made us go weak in the knees. Junk food ? Was ice creams on sundays, and if dad was feeling relly indulgent a coke, to which i always preferred a pineapple drink. Then we went home, dad climbing the stairs, with his two girls giggling atop his shoulders !
Lunch hour. Nobody told me that it was that, and that school was not over. There i sat, weeping silent tears, on the bench, before i heard her sweet voice. My sister. whom i had presumed had left without me, and gone home. She sat down beside me, held my hand in hers and opened my tiffin box, assuring me all the while that she would never leave without me. Smiling broadly thru the tears, i made short work of the biscuits before happily bounding off to class when the bell rang.
The rickshaw ride back home was fun. Both of us climbed into the first available one and off we went. After having paid him the princely sum of fifteen paise, we embarked and rushed up to the home and mum.
Welland Gould Smith. My first school. Where the fees were something in the region of thirty odd rupees.
And so we studied. I until class seven, ben until ten. For some such paltry sum. Then first sis shifted then i did to Calcutta Girls High School. Nearer home and walking distance. Our Principal there was an American. A fine lady always accompanied by her fierce dog, Mesca. Not that she needed one, because all us girls were already in awe of and highly intimidated by her. A tall lady, sparkling eyes glinting behind her spectacles, who mwas queen of her domain, indeed of all that she surveyed. You never knew when you would meet her, around which corner of school. When first i went for admission with my dad, i was a shoo in.. "Oh, Tasneem's sister." And admission was that easy. In those days. I was bad at maths, scraped thru with a woeful 45% in the boards, ICSE in class ten. Topped in English with 90, though. But then, we studied in candlelight most days, because of six and seven hour power cuts that lasted entire nights sometimes. I remember working on problems at twelve at night, with two candles on either side of my desk. I, who was normally in bed by eight p.m. No Television, and the government made sure our night vision was honed !
Taking tuitions was a big NO. An insult, because only very poor students took them, and that too was hushed and never spoken of publicly !
In spite of the pathetic marks, i ended up in class eleven, with maths and science as my subjects, the aim being to give the medical entrance exams, which dad had decided we both would give. My pathetic math scores put paid to those plans. But i greatly enjoyed my years at CGHS. I was one of about eighteen students! We were thick pals. Our group consisting of a punjabi, two sindhis, one bengali, a south indian, a christian, a marwari, and a muslim, myself ! Talk of national integration. We ate greedily from each others tiffins, organised parties and raffles, even a junk sale, and sold drinks, rasna, at break times, thanx to our enterprising President, and my best chum.
Winter was in the air when i casually strolled into school, wearing my black cardigan, as we called sweaters in those days. Early October. Until January. Climate change ? Whoever heard of it. The P word had not been sighted as yet. The ozone layer was very much intact and the world rotated along peacefully, as did ours. We were nor scared to walk the roads, and as children played happily and safely together, while our parents went about their work. Books were our sole companions. Pods meant peas, and pads meant periods! For music we tuned radios and fine tuned them to 'catch' our favorite stations. Hippies were the rebels, and only the beatles really made us go weak in the knees. Junk food ? Was ice creams on sundays, and if dad was feeling relly indulgent a coke, to which i always preferred a pineapple drink. Then we went home, dad climbing the stairs, with his two girls giggling atop his shoulders !
