The Big League
It was only in class 9 that you actually came in the big league. In class 6, 7 and 8 you' re simply called chotu, which basically meant that no one knew you. These three classes were the lowest laboureres in Sherwoodian society. You were called down the Milman Hall to remove, rearrange or put in the chairs for any function. You were told to carry the tables to the school canteen and you were also 'asked' to carry things down to the gym and then back up after a function.
Coming to class 9 didn't feel like such a big deal, but i don't know why, every batch got screwed by the prefects once they came to class 9. Maybe we tended to fuck around more, people tried cigarettes and drugs more and just got into more random bullshit. For my part, i remember breaking a full, perfect wooden chair to smithereens at ten thirty in the night, with this tough punjabi called Bains. We then threw the pieces of what was once a chair down the mountain (called khud side in Sherwood parlance, khudda in Hindi meaning ditch), behind the boys toilet. It was great fun, an amazing feeling of screwing something and getting away with it, and how. The next day, somehow, the Principal's wife, an english teacher, got wind of some missing chairs. She came in tow with the Deans of Boys and Academics (Mr Kerr and Mr Bisht, respectively) and scrwed the class. Luckily, no one spoke up, many didn't know, those who did, shut up.
Class 9 also showed me one of the worst form of power abuse I ve ever seen. In the evenings we used to have really low voltage, and when you switched off a tube light before dinner, there was a huge chance that it wouldn't light up again after dinner for prep. Obviously, we used to deliberately switch them off, and be content to spend 2nd prep in darkness just chatting away. One evening, we were told to take our books and go upto our dorms. We were specifically instructed to sit on the edge of our beds and study. Now since there were no prefects, many just fell back and slept. I was sleeping too, but luckily they could not see me from the corridor leading up to the dorm. Those who were caught had a very bad time that night. They were thrashed with hockey sticks, slapped, kicked repeatedly, and were made to do haunches for don't know how long. What i do know is that one surd had to go to the infirmary that night and another fellow left school (he returned in class 11, but thats a different matter). These prefects who did that were probably on a power trip or some other shit, but they were at their worst.
There was a huge commotion regarding this incident, mainly because a teacher came to know about it, but nothing was done and the bastards walked away scot free. Those were times which make me think that maybe it's not wise to bestow so much power and authority upon class 12 children.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Dixon Wing
Proceeding to Dixon Wing was an experience of much jubilance, expectations, and the feeling of being a 'big guy'. You looked at the horsies, going for their dinner at 6.45 in the evening, with an upturned nose, and derided them that they still had to bathe in the nude, while the aayah or matron pointed at dirty neck or ankles with a bamboo stick. You were happy that you got to wear pants all year long, unlike the horsies who wore shorts for most of the year. You were now in the big league, you could hurl the choicest of expletives, you got to serve yourself the daal and vegetable instead of raising a hand for the baira to come, and the lights out was a 'late' 9.30 in the night, which was regularly flouted for 'Just Mohabbat' or 'Baywatch'. All of these notions about being a 'man', 'responsible' and 'grown up' would be mauled, shredded and torn apart completely and utterly in the first two weeks of being a 'Dixie'.
Now let me introduce you to the worst and best part of Sherwood. Prefects. They were the worst cos they basically screwed your happiness, kicked you in the butt, slapped you in front of your entire class and made you strip your bed to the ground (the counterpane, followed by the blanket, the quilt, the two sheets and finally the mattress) . Then they expected to make it up perfectly within two minutes. If anyone in the entire dorm failed to do it in that time, everyone would have to do it again. You got hit with hockey sticks and were routinely sent out for errands such as 'fill this bottle and get it to dorm 4 - 5 cube' or 'im going for a wash, make my bed and polish my shoes by the time I return' and the worst was being sent to give a message or an article to a girl or guy practicing in the Milman Hall with the play making party. The Milman Hall was our auditorium, located down the hill in front of horsy and it would easily take a full 15 minutes to go and come back up, and play practice would normally go on till 12 in the night, with the added headache of the girl or guy in question handing you another article or message to be delivered. Each class had their dorms, and each class also had a cube (cubicle) which was occupied by two or three prefects responsible for the particular dorm/s. If the matron found any particular dorm in a disagreeable state, which was pretty often, she'd pull up the prefects concerned. Now prefects, due to the power they enjoyed, had colossal egos. This was dented when the matron was angry and it all poured out onto us.
A fatique (pronounced fuh-teek) was a physical punishment. The first sign, sorry, the heralding of a fatique was when a dorm prefect told the entire dorm to wait for him by their beds after lunch. He'd come, get pissed, make ominous statements like "You bastards think life is damn cool huh?" or "Class 8, you've been taking things too easy, the matron fired me today for all the dirt, slippers, dirty socks lying around your beds and you guys are regularly late", and it usually ended with "So, you'll see me tonight at 9 o clock in your games kit by your beds." At 9, we'd be waiting anxiously till he came.
He came, he saw, he went into his cube, he came out with the lone hockey stick, he said "2 minutes class kit." We ran to our lockers, tried to change as fast as we could, came back by our beds. He said "Ok everybody, strip your beds to the ground." The smart alecs tried to strip it in such a way so that the sheet, etc did not fall apart too much, he went and with the hook of the hockey stick, pulled it all apart. He then said "Now strip your lockers", we did so, leaving out the newly washed shirt that had just been ironed yesterday hoping he was kind enough. Sometimes he didn't say anything, sometimes he pulled that down to the ground with his ominous stick. Then came the push ups, those who couldn't keep with his count of "up down up down up down" would feel the pain that a curved piece of wood could inflict on their butts. The rest of us were thankful that someone fell behind, as that they us time to 'rest'.
My first fatique was, obviously, in class 6. We were in our classes for evening prep (preparatory study, one hour of homework time before dinner), and the lack of prepwork (homework) made our brains and mouths run wild. I remember that I, with 3 of my mates, was pulling the leg of a hapless pahari fellow from Ranikhet (hill town close to Nainital). We were loud, and a prefect came and told us to shut up. 5 minutes later we were back in full sail, disturbing the sanctity of the grave corridors of Dixon Wing. He came again and simply said, "Alright class 6 b, you'll report to me after dinner in your dorm. Stand by your beds, and one of you'll come and call me from 4 5 (pronounced four five) cube." now let me give a brief description of this fellow. A tall, fair good looking Punjabi, who was, unfortunately, the college football team goalkeeper. For those who still don't get it, this means that he had very powerful kicks. And he was wearing those big thick soled boots (CATS I think they were called). That night, we were kicked, made to do push ups, got hockey stick whacks, and slapped. There was this new fellow called Agnihotri, and he didn't know shit about how to behave in front of a prefect. He kept calling the guy "bhaiya". You never call a senior or anyone for that matter, bhaiya. You just take their last names. So Khanna (the prefect) got really pissed, and by my estimate, Agnihotri got atleast 7 to 8 hockey sticks and an equal number of kicks on his ass, in about 30 minutes. He didn't know what to do when the prefect told him to bend and touch his toes (the position you took to graciously receive a kick or stick), and he was equally clueless when he was told to take the 'Chairs' position (arms outstretched parallel to the ground, knees bent, and stand on your toes). I only received one kick that night, because Khanna heard me exhaling a little too loudly when coming up during a push-up.
Prefects were also the best part about Sherwood because they basically kept the school running in a smooth and orderly fashion. They had good power, and very rarely did we see a prefect misusing it in a very blatant manner. They made sure that there was no slackness, people were on time for the meals, chapel service, prep, etc. They were assigned to classes during prep and that kept us all quiet. They made sure, to a large extent, that our dorms were clean, beds were made properly, and the counterpanes spread out perfectly before we went for breakfast and after lunch, when we went for our sports or co-curriculers. They handled all events (quizzes, elocution, etc) and made sure that Milman Hall did not turn into a riot after any function. They took practices and selections in sports and games and made sure that people ran their full run and gave in their best for their soccer or cricket game. They basically ran the school, with directions from the Principal.
Proceeding to Dixon Wing was an experience of much jubilance, expectations, and the feeling of being a 'big guy'. You looked at the horsies, going for their dinner at 6.45 in the evening, with an upturned nose, and derided them that they still had to bathe in the nude, while the aayah or matron pointed at dirty neck or ankles with a bamboo stick. You were happy that you got to wear pants all year long, unlike the horsies who wore shorts for most of the year. You were now in the big league, you could hurl the choicest of expletives, you got to serve yourself the daal and vegetable instead of raising a hand for the baira to come, and the lights out was a 'late' 9.30 in the night, which was regularly flouted for 'Just Mohabbat' or 'Baywatch'. All of these notions about being a 'man', 'responsible' and 'grown up' would be mauled, shredded and torn apart completely and utterly in the first two weeks of being a 'Dixie'.
Now let me introduce you to the worst and best part of Sherwood. Prefects. They were the worst cos they basically screwed your happiness, kicked you in the butt, slapped you in front of your entire class and made you strip your bed to the ground (the counterpane, followed by the blanket, the quilt, the two sheets and finally the mattress) . Then they expected to make it up perfectly within two minutes. If anyone in the entire dorm failed to do it in that time, everyone would have to do it again. You got hit with hockey sticks and were routinely sent out for errands such as 'fill this bottle and get it to dorm 4 - 5 cube' or 'im going for a wash, make my bed and polish my shoes by the time I return' and the worst was being sent to give a message or an article to a girl or guy practicing in the Milman Hall with the play making party. The Milman Hall was our auditorium, located down the hill in front of horsy and it would easily take a full 15 minutes to go and come back up, and play practice would normally go on till 12 in the night, with the added headache of the girl or guy in question handing you another article or message to be delivered. Each class had their dorms, and each class also had a cube (cubicle) which was occupied by two or three prefects responsible for the particular dorm/s. If the matron found any particular dorm in a disagreeable state, which was pretty often, she'd pull up the prefects concerned. Now prefects, due to the power they enjoyed, had colossal egos. This was dented when the matron was angry and it all poured out onto us.
A fatique (pronounced fuh-teek) was a physical punishment. The first sign, sorry, the heralding of a fatique was when a dorm prefect told the entire dorm to wait for him by their beds after lunch. He'd come, get pissed, make ominous statements like "You bastards think life is damn cool huh?" or "Class 8, you've been taking things too easy, the matron fired me today for all the dirt, slippers, dirty socks lying around your beds and you guys are regularly late", and it usually ended with "So, you'll see me tonight at 9 o clock in your games kit by your beds." At 9, we'd be waiting anxiously till he came.
He came, he saw, he went into his cube, he came out with the lone hockey stick, he said "2 minutes class kit." We ran to our lockers, tried to change as fast as we could, came back by our beds. He said "Ok everybody, strip your beds to the ground." The smart alecs tried to strip it in such a way so that the sheet, etc did not fall apart too much, he went and with the hook of the hockey stick, pulled it all apart. He then said "Now strip your lockers", we did so, leaving out the newly washed shirt that had just been ironed yesterday hoping he was kind enough. Sometimes he didn't say anything, sometimes he pulled that down to the ground with his ominous stick. Then came the push ups, those who couldn't keep with his count of "up down up down up down" would feel the pain that a curved piece of wood could inflict on their butts. The rest of us were thankful that someone fell behind, as that they us time to 'rest'.
My first fatique was, obviously, in class 6. We were in our classes for evening prep (preparatory study, one hour of homework time before dinner), and the lack of prepwork (homework) made our brains and mouths run wild. I remember that I, with 3 of my mates, was pulling the leg of a hapless pahari fellow from Ranikhet (hill town close to Nainital). We were loud, and a prefect came and told us to shut up. 5 minutes later we were back in full sail, disturbing the sanctity of the grave corridors of Dixon Wing. He came again and simply said, "Alright class 6 b, you'll report to me after dinner in your dorm. Stand by your beds, and one of you'll come and call me from 4 5 (pronounced four five) cube." now let me give a brief description of this fellow. A tall, fair good looking Punjabi, who was, unfortunately, the college football team goalkeeper. For those who still don't get it, this means that he had very powerful kicks. And he was wearing those big thick soled boots (CATS I think they were called). That night, we were kicked, made to do push ups, got hockey stick whacks, and slapped. There was this new fellow called Agnihotri, and he didn't know shit about how to behave in front of a prefect. He kept calling the guy "bhaiya". You never call a senior or anyone for that matter, bhaiya. You just take their last names. So Khanna (the prefect) got really pissed, and by my estimate, Agnihotri got atleast 7 to 8 hockey sticks and an equal number of kicks on his ass, in about 30 minutes. He didn't know what to do when the prefect told him to bend and touch his toes (the position you took to graciously receive a kick or stick), and he was equally clueless when he was told to take the 'Chairs' position (arms outstretched parallel to the ground, knees bent, and stand on your toes). I only received one kick that night, because Khanna heard me exhaling a little too loudly when coming up during a push-up.
Prefects were also the best part about Sherwood because they basically kept the school running in a smooth and orderly fashion. They had good power, and very rarely did we see a prefect misusing it in a very blatant manner. They made sure that there was no slackness, people were on time for the meals, chapel service, prep, etc. They were assigned to classes during prep and that kept us all quiet. They made sure, to a large extent, that our dorms were clean, beds were made properly, and the counterpanes spread out perfectly before we went for breakfast and after lunch, when we went for our sports or co-curriculers. They handled all events (quizzes, elocution, etc) and made sure that Milman Hall did not turn into a riot after any function. They took practices and selections in sports and games and made sure that people ran their full run and gave in their best for their soccer or cricket game. They basically ran the school, with directions from the Principal.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Sherwood College
Horsman Wing
To get started, Sherwood College is a boarding school located in Nainital, Uttranchal, India. It was started in 1869 by Robert Milman. It has two wings: Horsman Wing (junior school, classes 3 to 5) and Dixon Wing (senior school, classes 6 to 12). In short, Horsman Wing is where you are the protected little kiddies who look upto Dixon Wing in the same manner that a convict would look out of his cell at the free world. You are constantly looked over by teachers, matrons and aayahs. Your every action is monitored and you don't fuck around a lot. A bit of fighting, lots of tuck (goodies like biscuits, chocolates jam and tomato ketchup) followed by severe bouts of diarrhea. Sports are introduced early on (in my school before Sherwood, till class 7 you were only allowed to play carrom, ludo or chess maybe) and competition is cut throat (something that continues all along).
In Horsman Wing ('horsy' from now on), the first time you venture towards the small swimming pool, you expect lots of fun with splashing and screaming. Big blow to your expectations and happiness, the swimming coach is standing there with a 7 foot long stick shouting at a random kid to try and swim along the sides in an anti clockwise direction. The more adventurous and daring little brats were rewarded with a whack on the back, and all adventure and enthusiasm evaporated combined with an opening of the sphincter muscles. Ofcourse, very rarely did one come to know about a boy peeing in the small pool, but going by the number of times I did it (mainly because I was didnt want to miss out on the action by going to the toilets), I reckon 3 to 4 did it everytime we were in there.
Horsy also involved a lot of fighting, some detective work (you tried to figure out who crapped in XYZ's shoe in the night, and who ate ABC's chocolates) and a lot of bickering over the most trivial of issues (I can say that only now, at the time they seemed to be of more importance than anything else on earth). The heroes and champs of the class would be those who were good at sports, seconded by the teachers' favourites, these two groups invariable landed the plum jobs of class monitor and dorm monitor (positions of great importance, mind you, you got privy to staff politics, were allowed to come in late for dinner after locking the class rooms, and one word from you could earn an erring kid a sharp reprimand).
In class 5, our Math teacher, who was also the supervisor (I m sorry I forgot the exact title), started a 'Star Chart'. There was a big chart on the notice board with the entire class's name written in alphabetical order, with space to put in the 'stars'. If you did something good, like answered a difficult question, good behaviour or did your homework very well, you got a silver star. If you did something really good and outstanding, like topped a difficult test, solved a problem which no one else could, or something similar, you got a much coveted gold star. Now the most important part, if you fucked up in class, you earned a black star. These would be awarded if you used used foul language ('bloody' was the foulest it got, and none knew what the word meant), if you scored poorly in a test, were caught talking or dreaming and couldn't answer a question in class. Now, I don't mean to blow my own trumpet, but the guy with the highest number of black stars that year was me, with a grand total of 45 black stars. The nearest competitor was on 43 (whew!!), a fellow called Rohit Mohit Yadav, and we left the rest of the field behind, the 3rd highest being something like 21. The yellow star holders were, obviously, immaterial.
A tale involving Horsman Wing cannot be complete without 'Smiley Man'. We never got to know his real name, but this particular gent had been coming to Sherwood for almost the past 30 years (a very conservative estimate). With him he brought a box which contained packets of daal, candy, various namkeens and his famous smile. We'd get pocket money (a princely sum of 10 rupees) twice a week and his arrival was always eagerly awaited by almost 120 little boys. The chappus, who were the studious teachers-ass-licker types looked forward to the 'fruit man' s visits. They'd buy a bunch of flowers and gift it to Ma'am XYZ, ensuring a place in her good books.
In Horsy, I also got the roll number that would identify me for the rest of my stay in Sherwood. Your name is not as important as your roll number is. It is what you are know as, me, i was 'roll number 318'. Even today if someone were to shout out that phrase or even that number, i'd instinctively respond, just like you do when your name is called out in a large gathering. I also got allotted to a house - Little John (L. J. for short), our colour was yellow. For the next eight years, i cheered for the the LJ cricket, hockey, atheletics, badminton teams and was part of the LJ football and table tennis teams. Sometimes, it got so much that we'd be ready to strangle class mates from other houses.
Food
When we first came to Sherwood, the food was atrocious. I remember finding a couple of ants or the odd housefly, united in death with the butter on my slice of bread. My chosen diet was 'Veg with Egg'. That basically meant that me and the other veg-with-egg s got the rawest deal because when the 'Non Vegs' got chicken, we, along with the 'Vegs' got the bad kofta (since we were vegs) and when the vegs got the good paneer, we got the crappy egg gravy. Wisdom dawned upon me only three years later, and in class 6 i changed to complete veg. The most pissing-off part was that the man incharge of the dining hall was a tough old Punjabi (some said he was a Jat) who had served in the Royal Indian Navy. He had retired from the navy, but obviously the navy had not retired from him, and a couple of times i was at the wrong side of very sharp slaps when his eagle eyes had spotted the veg cutlets i was trying to hide.
To get started, Sherwood College is a boarding school located in Nainital, Uttranchal, India. It was started in 1869 by Robert Milman. It has two wings: Horsman Wing (junior school, classes 3 to 5) and Dixon Wing (senior school, classes 6 to 12). In short, Horsman Wing is where you are the protected little kiddies who look upto Dixon Wing in the same manner that a convict would look out of his cell at the free world. You are constantly looked over by teachers, matrons and aayahs. Your every action is monitored and you don't fuck around a lot. A bit of fighting, lots of tuck (goodies like biscuits, chocolates jam and tomato ketchup) followed by severe bouts of diarrhea. Sports are introduced early on (in my school before Sherwood, till class 7 you were only allowed to play carrom, ludo or chess maybe) and competition is cut throat (something that continues all along).
In Horsman Wing ('horsy' from now on), the first time you venture towards the small swimming pool, you expect lots of fun with splashing and screaming. Big blow to your expectations and happiness, the swimming coach is standing there with a 7 foot long stick shouting at a random kid to try and swim along the sides in an anti clockwise direction. The more adventurous and daring little brats were rewarded with a whack on the back, and all adventure and enthusiasm evaporated combined with an opening of the sphincter muscles. Ofcourse, very rarely did one come to know about a boy peeing in the small pool, but going by the number of times I did it (mainly because I was didnt want to miss out on the action by going to the toilets), I reckon 3 to 4 did it everytime we were in there.
Horsy also involved a lot of fighting, some detective work (you tried to figure out who crapped in XYZ's shoe in the night, and who ate ABC's chocolates) and a lot of bickering over the most trivial of issues (I can say that only now, at the time they seemed to be of more importance than anything else on earth). The heroes and champs of the class would be those who were good at sports, seconded by the teachers' favourites, these two groups invariable landed the plum jobs of class monitor and dorm monitor (positions of great importance, mind you, you got privy to staff politics, were allowed to come in late for dinner after locking the class rooms, and one word from you could earn an erring kid a sharp reprimand).
In class 5, our Math teacher, who was also the supervisor (I m sorry I forgot the exact title), started a 'Star Chart'. There was a big chart on the notice board with the entire class's name written in alphabetical order, with space to put in the 'stars'. If you did something good, like answered a difficult question, good behaviour or did your homework very well, you got a silver star. If you did something really good and outstanding, like topped a difficult test, solved a problem which no one else could, or something similar, you got a much coveted gold star. Now the most important part, if you fucked up in class, you earned a black star. These would be awarded if you used used foul language ('bloody' was the foulest it got, and none knew what the word meant), if you scored poorly in a test, were caught talking or dreaming and couldn't answer a question in class. Now, I don't mean to blow my own trumpet, but the guy with the highest number of black stars that year was me, with a grand total of 45 black stars. The nearest competitor was on 43 (whew!!), a fellow called Rohit Mohit Yadav, and we left the rest of the field behind, the 3rd highest being something like 21. The yellow star holders were, obviously, immaterial.
A tale involving Horsman Wing cannot be complete without 'Smiley Man'. We never got to know his real name, but this particular gent had been coming to Sherwood for almost the past 30 years (a very conservative estimate). With him he brought a box which contained packets of daal, candy, various namkeens and his famous smile. We'd get pocket money (a princely sum of 10 rupees) twice a week and his arrival was always eagerly awaited by almost 120 little boys. The chappus, who were the studious teachers-ass-licker types looked forward to the 'fruit man' s visits. They'd buy a bunch of flowers and gift it to Ma'am XYZ, ensuring a place in her good books.
In Horsy, I also got the roll number that would identify me for the rest of my stay in Sherwood. Your name is not as important as your roll number is. It is what you are know as, me, i was 'roll number 318'. Even today if someone were to shout out that phrase or even that number, i'd instinctively respond, just like you do when your name is called out in a large gathering. I also got allotted to a house - Little John (L. J. for short), our colour was yellow. For the next eight years, i cheered for the the LJ cricket, hockey, atheletics, badminton teams and was part of the LJ football and table tennis teams. Sometimes, it got so much that we'd be ready to strangle class mates from other houses.
Food
When we first came to Sherwood, the food was atrocious. I remember finding a couple of ants or the odd housefly, united in death with the butter on my slice of bread. My chosen diet was 'Veg with Egg'. That basically meant that me and the other veg-with-egg s got the rawest deal because when the 'Non Vegs' got chicken, we, along with the 'Vegs' got the bad kofta (since we were vegs) and when the vegs got the good paneer, we got the crappy egg gravy. Wisdom dawned upon me only three years later, and in class 6 i changed to complete veg. The most pissing-off part was that the man incharge of the dining hall was a tough old Punjabi (some said he was a Jat) who had served in the Royal Indian Navy. He had retired from the navy, but obviously the navy had not retired from him, and a couple of times i was at the wrong side of very sharp slaps when his eagle eyes had spotted the veg cutlets i was trying to hide.
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