Stanes School Memories By Hip Grandma (Padma (Vishwanathan) Ramachandran Batch of 1966)

 

Shifting to Gobi and life as a boarder in Stanes High School

 

 

Since daddy was posted in Ladakh we relocated to my mother's maternal home in Gobichettipalayam - Gobi - which holds some of the best memories of my life. Gobi thatha, bless his soul, is the kindest, noblest human being I have known in my life. My mother was born weak sighted and was forced to abandon school. Thatha had a soft corner for his mild mannered daughter who spent half her married life in Gobi. My dad was in Medical college when my parents got married. My mother would be shunted to Gobi when he had exams and he would join her during vacations. When he joined the army she would join him when posted in family stations and move back to Gobi when he was transferred to a field station. My dad was a dog lover so when we relocated to Gobi my grandfather would have to accommodate a pet dog along with us, his grandchildren. So when we shifted to Gobi from Meerut, Helga tagged along. She gave birth to two pups - Brownie and Blackie. We gave away Blackie but Brownie remained in Gobi. When my dad was about to return after he dropped us, he suffered from a severe stomach ache but it got better in a day and he joined duty. From then onwards he would occasionally have such stomach aches that would get better on its own. But when the frequency increased he was released on medical leave and was treated in the Military hospital in Madras. In the meanwhile my sister and I joined Stanes High School, Coonoor as boarders because Gobi did not have an English medium school back then. I was already in the eighth grade and changing my medium of instruction was not a good idea. Moreover if my dad was posted in a family station we would join school in the new place so shifting to Tamil medium was not considered at all. So in February 1963 both of us joined Stanes High School, Coonoor and that was an entirely different set up compared to the Tambrahm life we had led thus far.

 

Life as a boarder in Stanes High School.

It was my maternal uncle Krishnamurthy mama who got me and my sister admitted in Stanes High School, Coonoor. The reason was that most schools in Coimbatore that were closer to Gobi had begun their school session in January. Admissions had closed in December. It was when he approached Stanes School Coimbatore that the Principal suggested that he should try Stanes, Coonoor. Since Coonoor was a hill station they had a longer winter vacation and would reopen only in February. There was a remote chance of our being granted admission there. Mama rushed to Coonoor and got the prospectus and we were admitted without any trouble. But I was totally unprepared for the hostel life that followed. The entire set up was different. We were the only two Indians as well as vegetarians in the boarding school. The smell of beef, mutton and fish cooked in European style without Indian spices was nauseating. We had to share the table with others who consumed Non vegetarian food. For a person like me,  who was not accustomed to the flavor of garlic at home, adjustment was difficult. The other problem was consuming bread three times a day. Breakfast was bread with butter, jam or marmalade, porridge and black coffee. Tambrahm items like idli and masala dosa were served as a treat on Saturday evenings. Lunch was rice and dal which had a few chunks of vegetables in it. Evening tea was again served with bread and jam. Dinner was again bread with dal. The cook Lily Ayah would  treat me as a special case and ask me if I liked the food that she prepared for me and my sister. The food was not to my liking but her concern was touching. I could not bring myself to tell her that I didn't like it very much. Initially I found it difficult to adjust to a bunch of Anglo Indian dormitory mates who bullied their way into the bathroom and I’d be late. I hadn't learnt to plait my long hair and the scented hair oil that my mother packed for me would be generously used by the other girls because I hadn't learnt to say ‘No’. The matron took note of things and took charge of my toilet kit. She would wake me up 15 minutes early to help me manage my time. I was in charge of my sister's toilet kit as well. She was in the junior dormitory while I was in the senior dormitory. She was not allowed to enter the senior dorm and would hate to stand by the door asking for toothpaste and bathing soap. I would want to comb and plait her hair and she would never be happy with the way I did it and rip it open and do it again. She had a set of friends who would give me cold stares when I tried to act like a typical ‘big sister’. Our principal Miss A. Cherian was very fond of her. She seemed to adjust to hostel life better than me. She made friends with her dorm mates, would draw cards during study hours and act difficult when I tried to discipline her. “You’re not Amma” would be her famous retort. She would be seen standing outside her class room with a few others for talking in class or for not having done her home assignments. But then she was a nine year old in primary school and one could hardly blame her for having fun.

 

 Within six months I got the hang of hostel life and the rest of the time spent in Stanes was fun. The food seemed more tolerable and I got used to the routine. I made a few good friends and thanks to technology I was recently able to get in touch with some of my fellow boarders, classmates and schoolmates, some of them my juniors by as many as ten years. The school has imparted a family spirit to us and we easily bond with those who belong to our Alma Mater - it hardly mattered whether we knew them earlier or not. In a random conversation with a fellow boarder I was surprised at the amount of information stored in my memory. That I could carry on a conversation for more than an hour fifty years after leaving school speaks volumes of the bond we shared as fellow boarders. I spent four  of the best years of my life in Stanes School. It was also the time when I lost my dear dad and I can never forget my friends, Mary, Joyce and Irene who held my hand and consoled me when I faced the most tragic period of my life.

 

I was a good student throughout. English and Maths were my favourite subjects. The Principal took Maths for us. We had a “Mark Reading” after the quarterly and half yearly exams. The toppers of each class would be called to the stage to encourage others to do well. Years after I left school - forty years to be precise - I visited school with my husband and son. The Principal Llwellyn Xavier who was my junior by four years mentioned that he was in awe of me when I would go up as the topper of my class Mark Reading after Mark Reading. I was pleasantly surprised that he could recognise me after so many years and could also correlate the event to my academic achievement. We had a few good teachers who left a lasting impact in my impressionable mind. The fun we had provoking our Hindi teacher Mr. Chandrashekhar will ever be tucked in a corner of my mind. He’d call us “filtered fools” a literal translation of the Tamil “ Vadikattina muttal”! We would deliberately drop things and duck down to pick it up and laugh to our heart’s content. I would be sent out of class to “laugh as much as I wanted”. Mrs. Rajan, our English teacher was a ‘no nonsense’ type and we used to be quite scared of her. I was a sentimental type in those formative years. When our Geography teacher left school we boarders went to see her off at the station. I cried so much that a co passenger asked me if I was related to her! I was also weird in that I would cry to leave home to come to the hostel and cry again to leave my friends to go home. I wonder if the “water tap on my head” has dried up now. Hostel life taught me valuable lessons of adjustment and the joy of community living. I also learnt to take care of my belongings and to travel on my own. Yes, after my dad passed on I opted to travel on my own. Till then I would be escorted to school but I suddenly became responsible and told my mother that I would manage on my own although I had to change buses at Mettupalayam.

 

Life in Stanes also taught me to stand up for myself. The school was a Christian institution affiliated to the Union church and I was under immense pressure to convert. Prayer meetings on Sundays would end with a mention that I should be the one to usher my family to the Christian faith. Pastors and preachers would wish to have a word with me and try to impress upon me the need to accept Jesus in my life. Finally it was on a Saturday night when I was getting the children from the sub junior dormitory ready for bed that I got a chance to tell the Principal, who, unknown to me,  was watching me from the entrance. I made them wash and change, sang a few hymns with them, taught them a short prayer and tucked them into their beds.  The Principal was impressed and wanted to know if I had decided about converting to Christianity. I replied that I was happy with my religion and although I had nothing against the Christian faith I found no strong reason to convert and change my affiliation. My board exams were approaching and I took the opportunity to politely tell her that I wished to be allowed to concentrate on my studies and all this pressure to convert was affecting me. She understood and mercifully the torture ended.

 

There was another occasion when I was accused of something I did not do and was not allowed to explain. I wrote to my father explaining my stand and gave the letter to my class teacher to post. I had added that I was not being allowed to explain. Our letters were censored and my teacher asked me if I wanted it to be posted. The letter would be read by the Principal and she might not like it, she added. I said it was fine with me because I had faith that my dad would understand even if the Principal didn’t. The Principal, Miss Cherian called me and asked for my side of the story. She accepted my version and wanted to know if I still wanted to post the letter. I insisted that I wanted my dad to know whatever had transpired. She, however, did add a note in her handwriting that the matter had been resolved. My dad wrote back saying he was surprised at the judgmental attitude adopted by the school authorities and he was considering the prospects of shifting me to another school. The Principal appreciated the rapport between my father and me and mentioned it to the school during assembly adding that this was the kind of relationship she wanted all children to have with their mentors. I found her to be fair in her dealings and continued to correspond with her even after I left school till I got married after which my entire life changed. I was in the second year of my undergrad course when on a Saturday morning I was called to the parlour saying that I had visitors. The college did not permit visitors in the morning so I went there wondering who it might be. Surprise of surprise, it was the former Principal of Stanes Miss. A. Cherian, now married, waiting for me with her husband and step children. She had landed in the college straight from Tiruchirapalli airport and the Principal of our college had bent the rule for her sake. It was an emotional moment for me and the affection she had for me was indeed overwhelming.

 

I don’t know if I had teachers who encouraged communication or if times were different back then. I was never scared to speak my mind. Being a boarder our interaction with residential teachers was on a one on one basis. Our school was perhaps one with a difference as is evident from the way I interact with my schoolmates even though 55 years have gone by. The affection we have for those who belong to our Alma Mater speaks for itself. The time spent in Stanes High School, Coonoor will always be cherished by me.