Half Eaten Sandwiches: Memories- Reunion - 25 Years Class of 90, La Martiniere, Lucknow

Part I - Where it all Began

A Slice of History

A wisp of a memory

A moment to savour

A Lifetime to remember

(Warning = Strictly for Martinians = Memories and all that Jazz)
So! Yes, its a bit long on the tail

Photographs - Arunima Nair, Shahab Khan, ME

23 Dec 2015

Was it a matter of coincidence that I finished reading Bill Bryson's Thunderbolt Kid, that day? And mind you, finished it seconds before my Kindle powered down low on battery, seemingly overwhelmed and strangely satisfied, like me. Giving me an hour of lonely 'Air Time' and literally miles to go. Time to reflect on this wonder called life. A while to pause, before I landed back home from a journey to the wonderland of my childhood.

Home where the heart is. Home, as to say, where I reside with my Wife, daughter, dog and prolific cat (and his various female "friends" and progeny). Home, which changed walls, landscapes and cities every couple of years. Home where the main protagonists grew older wiser and always resembled a travelling circus of animals, plants, assorted furniture, and, black trunks. Now and then resting in one place for a while. But then, that's another story. (for that : read the series here My Wife and Other Animals )

My Life My History

Reunions aren't really my cup of tea. Really! When one looks back there are some pretty foolish things and embarrassing moments that are best forgotten. Add to that the potent mix of adolescence, boys school rules, hormones and the crazy dress sense of the late eighties. Yeah! Best swept away to gather cobwebs in some obscure corner.
I first got the news that some of my classmates were planning our 25th year, of ejection from boyhood into the big bad adult world, about six months ago. At first it was disbelief. On many fronts.

One. Hello! 25 years? I'm not that old. Why it was only yesterday that I was being admonished by some figure of authority, in big trouble for my choice of hairstyle. I was very vain about the thick mop hair on my head ( yes I was not born bald with a big moustache) that shock of black, horror of horrors, grew way past my collar. Did I mention the distasteful hairstyles of the late eighties and early nineties?

For the badge and the Song

Two. Over the years there were two symbols of stability in my life. My parents and family, firmly rooted in my being. And my school! The only school in the world(/) with battle honours to boast of, among other things. A crumbling edifice with a magnificent past that seemed to grow distant each passing year. I used to feel the latter with a deep sense of despair. The bonds with my classmates, except naturally, a few, grew more disconnected. The Alumni Association, was to me, an obscure local phenomena. My annual visits to Lucknow turned Biennial and each time it seemed that the school building itself, was badly in need of a makeover. The further I continued on this journey called life, the more distant I became.Yet something always tugged at me, an unfathomable bond that could not be wished away to recess in the subconscious. My school.

A shadow of me - reflected in the past

My last visit to Mart in 2012 had left me disheartened to say the least. An edifice that was crumbling around its own history. Older than the names etched on the steps leading down from Constantia. The emptiness of Summer holidays added to the melancholic, musty feeling of lost glory long past the sunset of time. The 2015 transformation was mind numbing. Its almost as if a new wind was blowing across the seas. Winds of change, winds of life. Gawd! That sounds Mushy! - Get over it man! Can't! It's a subject to close to my heart! 😉 The credit, it is said, always goes to the Captain, The Commanding Officer is afterall 'The Ship'. Kudos to the Principal Mr Carlyle Mcfarland and his team. They have built upon the hard work of their predecessors. The transformation has been next to miraculous.
Boys will be boys. Today that sounds sexist. But then, we were boys, in an all boys school, and did survive the myriad shenanigans we got up to, in and around school. The occasional dads-"borrowed" two wheeler ridden to school and parked at "Panditji's" Tea/cigarette/bidi kiosk. (Motorcycle/scooters were banned- cycles were the only permitted means of self driven transport. Cars were a luxury even among the parents - Maruti 800 was the hottest car on the road). Rickshaws were -"IN"

Chemistry Lab - They let 'US" in there?

Kiosk sounds quaint and anglicized. Well, Pandits joint was everything but quaint. Earthy to the core and the meeting point of the wannabe bad/stud guys. Kids! The foolish part was, that it was still a distance away from school. For those not aware of the Pandit-ki-dukan but familiar with Lucknow and Mart, it was just short of the Dilkusha railway crossing on Vikramaditya Marg, opposite the junction it makes with Kalidas Marg. Ok, I admit the walking was not the most foolish part. I'll just restrict flashback to guys n cigs, playing hooky and the quarter of “MMB”. MMB - the bottom of the shack-whisky. Does that brand even exist today? I doubt it.

One wonders how we survived those times despite what all we got up to. It's a proud Mart thing to say- we never did drugs. Thank God they were not available. At least my immediate circle of whizkids were not aware of them. But like any ‘oldie’ (as my daughter increasingly refers to me) I would like to say, those were good times, those were safe times. Dickensian - "It was the best of Times - It was the worst of times..."

Stables - 2015

The reunion started with a bang. The dilapidated approach road the old crumbling building, were a thing of the past. There were stables, with actual horses! The entire place was spankingly neat and alive. We were to meet first at Spence hall. Exchange stories, and memories of "Abey tu...@#@$ ... Yaad hai kaya? Amma Yaar..." And. Get the coveted mementos, tie and customary speeches and anecdotes from all and sundry and (an old boy himself) - The Principal. None disappointed.

Leader board - 2012

Spence Hall was the epicenter of Mart's social and cultural being.I don't remember much on the academic front (maybe and involuntary reflex to wipe out what is best forgotten). Just remember pitying the poor sods, we called boarders, who had to endure study periods at odd hours at Spence Hall. What, I, was doing at "Spence Hall" at those early morning odd hours I don't have the foggiest of an idea.

Spence Hall, where all the socials took place. Socials for the the celebratory "Cock House" parties. Where the girls from "dames" Mart attended. La Martiniere Girls, another enigma for us boys.(Legend - Trivia - I am yet to discover the fabled secret tunnel to Dames Mart".) The social where you were expected to have had the 'nerve' to ask a girl for a dance and then dance a dance which did not involve any Bollywood style "Nagin" dance. Weird huh? Did I mention Bollywood dance moves of the eighty-ninety cusp? Phew!

Nil desperandum -Martin House
My House

OK cock house, was the house that won a huge trophy in the shape of silver rooster (at least in my memory palace it was huge and a rooster) , for standing first in the overall order of things. Whether those things involved Hogwarts style points I have no clue.

Spence Hall, where I stood on stage with rubbery legs year after year getting verbally bashed up in inter-house debates and declamation contests. Where our, then, english teacher Mr Elton D'souza, or someone smarter than me, taught me how to overcome stage fright.

Hodson House

The trick is to get on and off stage before you are noticed. And if the director is brave enough to give you a part that involves actual speaking (acting?!? Yeah that too) just move your head around as if you're looking into the eyes of the audience, wherein you are staring hard into the brightest stage light. Lights that temporary blind, making the audience simply vanish.

Lyons House

The other guys (and guys dressed as girls - we were very liberal in our ways for want of better choices), were equally petrified so could do you little harm. Another good way to get your name on the "list," and, associated goodies, was to be a stage hand. The latter being the best option. Now whether I was "always" a part of the band of onstage actors, debaters and speakers is something that I would like to believe and back with some photographic evidence.

Cornwallis House

Photographs never lie, they may tell half truths. For example the scowling/goofy/ weird looks in the yearly class photo. The scowling guys are trying to look their best - smouldering handsome film actor self. The goofy guys just remembered a joke / got pinched / smelt a fart or something similar. The weird looking guys are probably just that. Similarly a photo from a school play does not indicate the weight of the role enacted or for that matter - life choices (especially for the guys dressed in skirts, padded inner wear etc).

Spence Hall was where the board exams were conducted. Where Elton (then Vice Principal later Principal) caught me with a calculator in a pre-board exam. I was doing social service and helping others solve complex maths. As he came across for his rounds, he started chatting with me, assuming I had nothing better to do. Actually I didn't, it was a Maths exam you see (or maybe Physics). His (and he assumed mine) favourite author being Shakespeare was of no avail. The Goodness of my heart, my good-samaritan act, and bleats of surprise (on seeing a Calculator on my desk - Dunno where that came from) failed to melt his heart and shylock like pounced on the loathsome calcy. The ensuing trail of events we shall leave to the pages of history.

Entrance to Spence hall

Spence Hall was built in, I would like to believe, 1933. La Martiniere was founded in 1840. That little nugget we gleaned from the MCMXXXIII etched on its facade, where year on year, class after class, (and now a plethora of reunion), group photographs are captured. One wonders where the the social scene existed before 1933. As school kids we were were convinced that none of our teachers would have had to endure the board exams, and even so would not have cleared them. Naturally we believed that we were smarter than them! So maybe they didn't require Spence Hall for exams. And for socials, well , after all - "Pappu can't dance S...."

Class of 90 - Those who could make it for the 25th
Spence Hall

Class of 90 - Class VI - With Mr Ireland
Spence Hall Steps

Mart's Famous BunTacks

A small. poignant memory is of Spence Hall having wooden flooring, like a real dance floor. I think they got sick of guys stamping on the floor, in an unending competition of - 'who will rip out the wooden slats first and find the hidden treasure' or 'the tunnel'.

Today the school boasts of state of the art facilities,a vibrant team leading it and an invigorated Alumni. Equestrian Sports, Archery, Shooting kayaking, in addition to the Tennis courts and swimming pools of yore, to name a few. I'll leave you with a few more memories and a promise of more. The reunion included a Memorable dinner, a day of Buntacs, a Trip around constantia and a farewell dinner.
That and more , I'll leave Till my next......

Vive La Martiniere