I have always dreamt of writing a short story about my Victorian past. Not Victorian in time, but in spirit — a past with long verandas, iron railings, and the slow dignity of a world that believed in order.
I studied only three years in that college, but it was the most enjoyable period in my life. The college had a large campus: a football ground, a cricket pitch, a 400-metre track, volleyball, basketball and tennis courts, and a maze of classrooms with high ceilings. I had lots of time to wander and dream about a future that was uncertain and a past that was forgettable.
Fifty years after I left, I decided to revisit. I wanted to walk the ground again, to absorb the changes.
The gate was the same, but rusted. The buildings were smaller than memory had kept them. Dilapidated. Classrooms vandalised with graffiti of a senseless variety — the work of the inheritors. The cricket pitch was cracked earth. The 400-metre track had weeds growing through its lanes. The verandas where I once sat and dreamt were lined with broken chairs.
I stood there a long time. The wind smelled of dust, not of the cut grass I remembered.
The story, really, begins earlier.
In June, when I was four years old, I decided to join school. I used the good offices of my grandmother. She gave me a slate, an umbrella, and walked me down the red village road.
The Head Master sat under a portrait of Gandhi. He asked my name, father’s name, mother’s name, and age.
“Can you understand what is taught in the first standard?” he asked.
“I studied these lessons last year,” I told him. “I can manage.”
I was admitted the same day. No interview of parents. No forms in triplicate. The Head Master decided my date of birth and wrote it in a thick register with a nib pen. That was that.
I studied in that school for ten years. I learned the lessons. Most of the boys who joined with me stayed for ten years or eleven. There was no ragging, no strikes, no confusion. We remained friends for a lifetime.
Studying in the same atmosphere for ten years in a small village school has advantages. It offers you security, camaraderie, and cohesion. The same tamarind tree, the same bell, the same faces. You knew where you stood.
As we reached the tenth standard the teachers grew serious. “What do you want to be?” they asked, one by one.
I had no choices, no ambition, no plans. The world beyond the village was a rumour. I just wanted to go with the flow and get a job and be independent. Independence — that was the whole dream. Not to be great. Just to be free of asking.
So I drifted to college. Three years. The large campus, the courts, the empty hours. I wandered and dreamt between lectures. The future was a fog. The past — a small house, a slate, a grandmother’s hand — was something I was trying to forget, because it was too simple to be proud of.
Now, fifty years later, I stood in the ruin of that college and understood.
The buildings were not smaller. I was older.
The graffiti was not senseless. I just couldn’t read the language anymore.
The inheritors had not vandalised it. They had inherited it — and made it theirs, as we had made it ours.
My Victorian past was never about the buildings. It was about that June morning at four years old, a slate in one hand, my grandmother’s certainty in the other. It was about ten years without confusion. It was about having no ambition except independence, and finding that, somehow, that was enough.
The future had been uncertain. The past was forgettable.
But the three years in between — on that large, sunlit campus — that was the only time I was truly free.
I turned and walked out of the gate. The rust flaked onto my palm. I didn’t brush it off.
Every childhood comes to an end and I boarded a train to New Delhi to earn a living when I was 21 years old. The journey took about 46 hours and I did not sleep because every station was a new unknown town and I wanted to see these places and so I sat near the window and watched the lights , the rivers, the bridges, the mountains and the barren land
And as the train moved further north I felt a new freedom within my mind and I was no more worried about anything and felt secure in that no one knew me in this world, the power of being the unknown.
As the train kept moving I started writing down names of the rivers I had never seen like Pennar, Krishna, Godavari, Narmada, Tapti, Chambal, Yamuna and kept searching for the river Saraswati which had disappeared in the sand dunes thousands of years before. The water in these rivers were muddy as it was monsoon time , but the rivers continued to hold my attention because rivers only provided a hope to the parched land.
As I had nothing else to do next day morning I went to the Interstate Bus Terminus and boarded a bus that will take me to Agra and explore the tracks of the Mughal invaders and the stretch of Yamuna from the Lal Quila to Tajmahal. The river was dirty but the monument was beautiful because the rains had washed away the grime, the filth and the marble was clean, the advantage of building in stone. While returning the next day I took a slow train running with a steam engine and the crowded compartment was leaking because I was not complaining because it is sensible to conserve money when you are unemployed till some one offered you a regular job.
Next day I visited a couple of libraries and enquired about membership because libraries offer you a roof, books to read, magazines to browse, coffee , tea and an opportunity to know your generation , make friends if you are in the mood and read what you could not read in a small village. They asked for references and that was not difficult. The difficulty was in commuting so I chose to walk to kill time to remain active and explore more avenues on the way. I had applied for a couple of jobs and I had the hall tickets and may be an interview call in three months or more but how do I survive.
The first job I thought I was capable of doing was that of a librarian but all the libraries I visited told me that they cannot offer me a job as I was too young, did not have a diploma and as I thought of giving the idea goodbye , someone told me that automobile components manufacturer in Faridabad may have an opening for a person of my age and I decided to gamble because gambling was always fun and as there was no money involved I decided to follow up. The next day I reached the Faridabad factory gate and asked the security guard about how I can talk to someone who can help me. He took me to a person who was kind enough to offer me a seat , a hot cup of coffee and an application form. I filled up the form and I was told that the interview will be at 12.30 pm and I will have to wait. The interview was simple , they offered me a job as an apprentice in the quality control department and my salary will be Rs. 300 per month for six months and will be raised to Rs. 750 after confirmation. I accepted the offer and they told me that I will have to work the nightshift and earn Rs. 100 night duty allowance. I just nodded my head and volunteered to work night shifts on a permanent basis and the interview board was impressed about my enthusiasm. I made a call to my mother the same day but she was asking me why I had to accept a job at Rs. 13 per day . I did not respond I just laughed. I have this habit of laughing at myself to relieve the tension just pushing the anger and the disgust down my throat.
The next day my mother called me back and told me to quit my new job and come back to Kerala. She was upset that her son will work for Rs. 13 per day and work night shifts for 6 months . I did not want to return because I wanted to go back only after exhausting all the opportunities. I was not bothered about the trap of poverty . But I will break this trap and emerge on top.
I worked the night shifts so that my colleagues who wanted to be with their families during the night and it was flooded outside and they were not sure when the river Yamuna would break open the door, and flood the huts but I had no such fear because the factory was on high ground and there was no chance of flooding. I was free during the day to visit libraries and read and maybe play a game of cricket or chess and continue my pursuit of happiness.
