The month of December can be pleasant up in the hills. The nights are cold but the days are bright and crisp. In the residential school all junior classes leave by mid-November. The Eleventh standard students stay on till their examinations are over in the third week of December, with a freedom they have never tasted before. No bugles to wake you up, and no queues for entering the dining room. The food was of a better quality as it had to be made only for a few. You could saunter around in pajamas and night suits. A sweater was optional. After years in the school, you were used to the chill, and even the nights felt comfortable.
One night, this Shang re La’s peace was broken.
“Hey what the hell. How did the camera come into your box? yelled the prefect. There were a few thuds loud enough to be heard all the way to the House Master’s quarters. Mr. John came hurriedly from his house. “Hey Rajmohan, why are you standing there and sniffling? It was the prefect who answered. “Nandan had lost his camera a couple of days back.I did a routine check and saw the camera in this chap’s box.,’ he said pointing to me. “And he has no answers to my questions.
“Okay, okay, we will look into that. Now back to your beds. Rajmohan, go wipe your nose and wash your face.” That night, I could not sleep. Images of ridicules by my classmateswent through my mind; whirling like a16mm film projected on a small screen.
The next day, while I was brushing my teeth, Gautam came by my side. “Cheer up bugger, everyone makes a mistake some time in their lives.
“What will I tell my parents? How will I face people?”
“Now look. You know that Johnny is quite fond of you. In fact, he is expecting you to do very well in the finals and also expects you to clear the Entrance examinations for Medicine.”
He nodded faintly and bid adieu. Why not go to the desk in the classroom and revise? The classroom would be deserted. I opened my desk and started to go through the circulatory system in amphibians.
“How come you are here, and why so grumpy?”I heard a crisp girlish voice say from the door. I turned around, and it was my batchmate Sithara. There were very few things common between us, but over the past two years, a friendship had blossomed. Since she had found out that something was amiss, I recounted the previous night’s events. I hastened to add that it was only a quick impulsive action. She looked seriously at me, and said, “It’s not the best time to be down and out, and we have a Board examination coming up in fourweeks. You have to keep your wits about you.” “Come, we will go for a walk and we can be back by about 5PM” “Shall we go to the Big hill?”
“Oh, I can run up the Big hill.”
“I know you can, so why not a walk to the “Goblin hill?”
There was a silence. The Goblin hill was out of bounds and there was a vague uneasiness about going towards it. It was as if the place had a strange and evil aura about it. It had been handled down the generations from the time the school was run by the English. During the first year itself, all the students came to know of it. There were some gruesome stories about the place. The enduring story was about two lovers who decided to elope and were caught in a thunder storm and they were hit by a bolt of lightning. The hill was never mentioned in the conversations and hardly ever visited.
“Okay then, let us make a move.” Sithara was already in command. Soon we were on the way to a part of the school campus which we had never seen. The path consisted of grassy knolls of varying sizes. It was like walking on an enormous carpet. Fortunately, the ground was not wet and squishy as it had not rained in months. Soon they passed through clumps of acacia and eucalyptus trees.
“You know that these guys are foreigners and are gradually edging out the native flora.” The lantanas and the periwinkle bushes added a bit of sparkle. We could hear some birds chirping, but we could not localize them. Maybe the tiny birds had built their nests deep inside the bushes.
“Thank God there are no snakes in these parts.” Sithara said with a sigh.
“What are you more scared of - insects or snakes?”
Sithara rolled up her eyes. It was obvious that my attempts at being funny did not go down well with her. Just then there was a cold breeze from the hill side and it went wooh – wooh through the branches of the trees. There was a sudden chill.
“Cuddly weather.” I remarked.
“Don’t get any ideas, cow boy.” Sithara gave a side long glance and her tone was sharp. The breeze swept a lock of her hair into her eyes and forehead. That somehow softened her otherwise stern features. You could say that the tall, angular girl looked somewhat pretty. He kept that thought to himself. Instead, he said, “How come we are paly?’
“Why? “We meet daily during classes for the past six years”
“Oh, yes we speak the same language at home.”
“But that is at home. In school, all of us speak in our foster mother tongue.”
They looked at each other; the angular athletic girl and the mild-mannered studious boy.
“Hey, still a long way to go,” I reflected. “Yes, we will do well to pick up the pace.” Gradually, we trekked to the bottom of the hill, in silence.
“Look out for any ghosts or fairies,” Sithara said in a mock serious tone. Indeed, it was a forlorn place full of bramble. Out of nowhere, there stood two hovels leaning on each other, as if for support. Only one of the houses seemed to be occupied. The house had a neat pile of chopped wood by its side. The walls were plastered but some of it was flaking in places. The roof, too was made of the same material.
“The house that Jack built, “mused I.
Just then, there was a stirring inside, and a man opened the door. They were surprised to see that it was Muthu who owned it. Muthu worked in the school hospital as a last grade employee., and I had seen him on some early mornings, returning from night duty. That time, swathed in a faded coat and old, grey blankets the attender seemed to move like a hedgehog shuffling along.
“What Dorai and Missy Ma, how come you both are here?” He seemed even more astonished to see them.
“Varrungo”, his tone was warm. They showed their assent and entered the house gingerly. The floor too was cracked and it was obvious that any kind of repairs had been undertaken a long ago. Had the weather been warmer, you could expect to see ants in those cracks. The walls were blackened from the soot coming out of the make -shift kitchen.
Muthu made a deep bow and urged them to sit on the two chairs that were there. Muthu’s better half was even more servile, but plucked up enough courage to offer tea. The brew she boiled smelled divine. She took out biscuits from an old tin and put them on a glass plate.
“Sappidungo, Missi Ma,” she urged us.
Just then a lad of about twelve came into the house. He had a spring in his steps and didn’t seem jittery about the unusual visitors.” VanakkamAyya, Vanakkam missy,’ he greeted us.
“Which class do you study in?” I queried.
“I study in Class seven.”
“Which school?”
“Municipal School at Oottacamund town.”
“But how do you get there? It is quite far away,”Sithara was curious.
“Not really far if you can climb over the Fairy hill and go down into the valley.”
“So up and down twice a day. Isn’t it hard for you?” I mused.
“No. I am very keen on completing my Class Ten. Then I can apply for the military as a ‘Jawan”. Or as a constable in the Police.”
“So, the hill climbing builds up your stamina?’ chipped in Sithara.
Throughout the conversation his parents were looking at the boy with utmost fondness. We could also feel the pride the parents had for their son. Soon we ran out of small talk, and indicated that we would like to leave. On our way back from the hill top, Sithra broke the silence, and said, “Look at Muthu’s son. What has he going for him?” I nodded.
“But see his spunk: In that chit of a boy.”
“We should not be shaken up by some mishap and unpleasantness in the dormitory. Let it not destroy your peace of mind. By then, it was time for them to part.
“Bye”, Sithara said. I did not fail to note a faint flush on her cheeks.
Back in the dormitory, Gautam was waiting for me, his briskness and mirthful talk put me more at ease.
The examinations, both theory and practical went off well. On the second last day of the examinations, I went to the tuck shop and picked up a coconut ball and coffee. He heard the soft “Hello” and at once knew it was Sithara.
“Please join in.” She obliged.
As usual it was Sithara who restarted the conversation. “We must keep in touch, and since we won’t be in the same town, not even the same state perhaps, we must write letters, at least once a month.,” she urged. “We will try and not miss a turn else then the twinewill be broken and we will float away like two kites.
“By the way, Johnny called me and Nandan up to his house, and in front of him, I apologized to Nandan about the camera incident.”
*******************************************************
I reckoned that it is one of the promises he kept, even as the years rolled on. Sithara completed her BEd in physical education and joined as an instructor in a school. I underwent Graduation in Medicine, and internship. The letters were more matter of fact. The enthusiasm she had for training the youngsters and the extra efforts for the not so talented was obvious. She argued that the more she could motivate to the sports fields, more talented youngsters she could unearth. Her letters had at times a chiding note about I not showing enough enthusiasm about the old School. The only time I went for the Annual Founder’s Day, Sithara could not make it. It is indeed difficult to keep up a friendship living 400 km apart. Once I delayed a letter. I had expected a letter bomb. To my surprise, it was a sweet, conciliatory reply which she came up with. She also started to express some of her disappointments. Twice she said that her long trips to the city reunion meetings proved futile.” The people whom she expected to be magnanimous ducked the issue. The not so well placed turned up with surprises. “The world should not be divided into haves and have nots, but into gives and give nots.”
Meanwhile, the residential school was trying to do a makeover. It looked like the time had come to shake off the inertia which had accumulated over the decades. The Old Students Association had become vibrant and had editions even in the smaller towns. Two of the alumni, Vandana and Pauli had taken on themselves to visit old students and motivated them to attend the meetings. Of course, the meetings still retained their old menu: banter, good quality liqueurs and tasty food. Vandana and Pauli gradually brought in discussions about more topical issues, “Let us keep as much of the spittle and polish, but see that we do not miss the bus.”
“How about the subordinate staff and better amenities in terms of the Dearness Allowance, School fees for at least two children and most certainly better housing for them. I must let you know that Sithara Pillai from the Batch of 1972 has been at my back about better quality housing especially for the subordinate staff. I may have been pissed off if not for the vehemence and spirit she put into this matter. “Yes, guys and girls, open up your hearts and your wallets. We need to get these projects by the time of Centenary Founder’s Day celebrations in 1983. We don’t have much time left.”
“Pauli, you are an expert at venipuncture. You can withdraw blood without any pain.” Someone from his batch commented.
Before long, the centenary celebration was upon us. I had gathered from her letters that she had attended the Old Students meet in various towns: She could well do it with her energy levels.
The big day came at last. The customary parade was splendid, and the boys and girls in their uniforms looking very much like those taking part in the Republic Day parade; The Brass Band trying to match that of the armed forces. The parade lasted only an hour and a half, but I wondered as to how many in the crowd would have known about the weeks of preparations needed for it to come out so orderly. I recalled the polishing of shoes, whitening of the ‘patties’, and shining the brass buttons without smudging any part of the Sunday Suites. These seemed to push back the memories about the Chemistry labs and the dissection hall. The incident about the camera resurfaced, but the pain was submerged by the images of the walk to the Goblin Hill. It was magical. Yes Sithara.
The prize distributions followed. In his speech, the chief guest, a senior IAS officer stressed the need for more social action in rebuilding the nation. even at the ground level.
The principal made an announcement that all would make a move towards the new quarters for the subordinate staff. There would be a ribbon cutting ceremony, too. Then he sprang a surprise. Miss Sithara Pillai from the Batch of 1972 will be doing the honors.” There was a subdued murmur of surprise from the crowd. After the inauguration, I walked slowly towards Sithara.
“You deserve the honor, dear Sithara, I said in an audible whisper. I gently shook her hand. She looked at me intentlyand said, “Actually it was the walk to the Goblin Hill and seeing Muthu’s hovel and the desperate poverty which had sparked the idea of doing something about it, that set me on the course of social work”
I hadn’t noted that Gautam too had found his way there “What is this? A meeting of old flames? “What are you two waiting for? Go for a walk to the Goblin hill and expect another miracle. It could sort out some of your own unresolved issues. And remember, no half measures. He thumped my back. His eyes twinkled merrily. . .
Dr.P.K.Kuruvilla,
