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* * * 2006 ANNUAL GOANETTERS MEET - GOA * * *
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WHERE: Foodland Cafe - Miramar Residency - Miramar, Goa
WHEN: December 21, 2006 @ 4:00pm
More info:
http://lists.goanet.org/pipermail/goanet-goanet.org/2006-December/051747.html
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PICKLED MEMORIES: FORGING WORDS IS CERTAINLY BETTER...
By Mayabhushan Nagvenkar
It had rained that evening. But it was a warm, still summer
night, when my father announced that I would be studying Arts
at St Xavier's Higher Secondary School.
It wasn't a grand pronouncement. But it had the sort of
finality a father in a feudal household tends to command.
Actually it was very matter-of-fact. He might as well have
said, "We'll have stuffed mackerels tonight."
I had my first glimpse of St Xavier's College when I was
riding pillion on the road to Mapusa from Arpora. The imagery
I had conjured then was rather weird. The structure literally
looked like a huge suitcase that someone had forgotten on
that Mapusa hilltop.
Not that the selection of this particular college meant much
to me then. I had resigned myself to emulate, yet again in
college, the ten remarkably banal schooling years. Only this
time round, it would five. By the end of those years, I would
have earned my pips as an un-equipped, unconvinced, insecure,
unemployed graduate coughed out with disdain by the
ulcer-ridden education system.
It is remarkable how one could draw parallels between
wildlife documentary episodes and some aspects of the lives
we lead. There is this particular documentary which explains
how snakes shed their skin. How a restless snake brushes
against rough bark. Or finds itself a forked branch, in which
to wedge the outer skin and wriggle out of the jaded sheath.
And then the joy with which it brandishes its spangled new
skin. This could just about be the story of young boy instead
of a snake. A boy trying his best to slip out of a school
uniform. This is exactly how liberating it is to step out of
a school uniform. It's almost symbolic. As if you are ripping
off those last traces of that weird phase called adolescence.
Once in college, I have always wondered about how
unreasonable it was to expect a student to pursue the path of
'academic excellence' right away. Especially, if one has to
consider the fact that this is the first time ever, that one
has stepped into a co-ed institution. Just how tough was it
to comprehend the fact, that you now to share space with
classmates who carry lipsticks and nail gloss with the same
nonchalance as those earlier fellows in your class who
stuffed wasps and beetles into their pockets. One has to be
allowed a bit of respite. At least until one gets the
bearings sorted out.
The other most obvious issue a student tries to sort out
initially, is to seek out information on the teachers he or
she is likely to be confronted with. Two years in junior
college was enough time to grab a peek and enquire about
those potential educative ogres.
Over a period three years, the picture however becomes clear.
Some live up to their reputations, some surpass them, some
fail in a woefully dismal way. It would be unfair to name any
here with their respective ratings. Naming fifty odd teachers
would alarmingly eat into the thousand word limit. And the
attempt to save space by naming some and excluding others
would be grossly unfair too.
One of the reasons why I tend to savour my time at St
Xavier's is due to some of the teachers, with whom I fortune
enough to interact with. It may reek of flourish, but they
were the salt that went a long way into my seasoning.
Teachers, their strengths and failings apart, the campus is
where one learns to spot friends amidst the chaff. Some are
lucky enough to learn this trait in school, some perhaps
never ever pick it up. The time spent with friends at the
canteen metamorphosed even the worst of subsidised chai at
Cruz's canteen into a cupful of Irani chai.
Then there have been other questions to which I had never
been able to find answers. Neither in my time spent there,
nor thereafter. Questions like, why were the college
authorities so keen on building layers of walls around the
premises, rather than installing the much-needed fans in that
splendid library? Why does the college bus bear the Mercedes
insignia and yet break down every second day? Why did
Sylvester -- that rotund attendant in one of the Science
laboratories -- listen to a Colombo radio station in his
heyday? What's the exact degree of the steep slope which
leads up to college?
There will be questions. They only add to the mystery. The
more the questions, the more allure.
The one thing I have no doubt of though, is the fact that it
was those few relationships forged under the shadow of that
institution, that have held me in good stead.
This college, as an institution, proved to be a window...
only a window, which brought over the whiff from the 'other
side'. Or else perhaps, I would have taken recourse to my
genetically-endorsed profession of smithing gold. Not that I
have something against forging gold into shape. But, forging
words, though tougher, is certainly better.
* * * * *
The writer is an investigative journalist based in Delhi. He
earlier worked for Tehelka, the pioneering website and
news-weekly in the national capital, and was part of its
special investigations team. He is an alumni of St Xavier's
College at Mapusa, whose ex-students from across the globe
joined in the BMX (Britto's, Mary's, Xavier's) reunion in
mid-December 2006. Email mayabhushan at gmail.com
This article has been published under the
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.5 license. See
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.5/ (c)
Mayabhushan Nagvenkar. 2006. Some rights reserved.
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