MEMOIR.

MEMOIR
By Meena Iyer

(The following is a story narrated by Manni, Pankaja Laxmi to Senior Citizens Group, at Charlottesville.)

We were about 25 students in our 7th grade class. Co-education for boys and girls but we had to sit separate. It was the 1940's when the world war 11 had just ended. The medium of instruction in the schools was in English, which was strictly enforced by the British then. The name of our school was Balak Mandir High School. Balak Mandir means children’s' temple. We had a very efficient principle i.e. the head of the institution. Mr Keshav Rao was his name. He was quite tall well-built and fair with dense dark hair. He was a very jovial man who really loved his students. But unfortunately for us he died in his 60's from some stomach trouble.

The school virtually collapsed after his death. We had to move to a smaller place. A new principal one Mr.Krishnan became the school head master. A heavy smoker he would throw out the cigarette when entering the class and immediately light another at the end of class of 45 minutes. A thin and lanky dark man with brown stained front teeth from continuous smoking. He was very strict in discipline and he taught us Maths too.

Meena was a mischievous and jolly type of girl. She came from a rich and orthodox Brahmin family. The eldest born in the family. Her mother Rajam was also a teacher for the lower grades. We used to get a small recess of 15 minutes at 11.30 daily. Our school was from 10 am to 4.30 pm when we could be free for our own time. We had never seen Meena sad or down in the dumps. She was always laughing telling jokes and mimicking the teachers especially our Maths teacher Mr. Krishnan whom we all dreaded and avoided. His class was always immediately after this short recess.

Meena was medium built neither too stout nor too thin. Fairly tall but not at All fair. A round face and a beautiful nose. She always braided her hair in two Two plaits, even though she had very thin and short hair. She would wear a very big knotted ribbon at the end of the pigtails. We friends used to tease her for this.

"Meena, does the pigtail carry the knotted ribbon or the knotted ribbon carries the pigtail?"

Pat would come the reply "Just to hide my tiny pigtail!" smilingly.

One day during the short recess when most of the boys had gone out of the classroom. This girl got up from her seat and caught hold of another girl, Revati in her arms as in an embrace and started going in circles around the whole classroom as in a waltz dance singing,

"Hello my darling I love you, Give me a kiss when I ask you!"

Perhaps she must have heard it on the radio. A radio was a real luxury in those days. Unexpectedly, the maths i.e. our principal arrived to take the class just 3 or 4 minutes ahead of time and saw this girl in Revati's arms! Well, we all abruptly stopped even to breath!

What's going to happen! Poor Meena is really in for hell today --------
The teacher roared like a lion.

"Stand up on the bench! You two! See me after school."

Poor things! Both of them stood on the bench. The whole class watching with stunned silence. Revati started crying. But Meena, she just enjoyed the teacher's wrath!! After school both the girls got complaint notes to their parents. Meena's mother was also a teacher. How could she tolerate such misbehaviour in the class?!

The next day Meena came to the class. Both her cheeks like 2 red pouches. But, mind you not a single drop of tear or remorse. The same mischievous smile on her face!! After 30 or 35 years later I happened to meet her once again in a friend's birthday party. She had two kids now. We talked old stories. I asked her,

"Meena, did you ask HIM (her husband) for a kiss?!"

"Oh, yes! I Did. But I only got a kick on my back and he said,

"Go, get the dinner ready!"

I was really surprised, even after so many years Meena had not lost her sense of humour! I love Meena even to this day.

END

Narrated by Manni