i happened to read pallavi's write up on education and i remembered this story.
a father was taking two kids for a walk. Don't ask which road for you cannot see any roads now a days walkable or even if there is a road somewhere with no vehicles, i canbe sure that youshould be a man with no nose.
While walking a child jumped on a round black lid. the lid was made of blackstone. Dum dum a sound. after one or two jumpings it went ahead walking. But the second kid when it heard the dum dum sound. it stopped and began questioning the father. the father then begins to explain the way of sanitation and why the cities were clean etc etc. The lid was the openings of these sanitation pipes underneath the ground and people can repair.
So education is for kids who can think.
Oliver goldsmith once wrote that he studied in the University of Passing Humanity (sitting on the roadside and watching people) but that has lot of meaning.
The story of Padmavyuh is known to all. The child could learn only half while it was in the womb.
Lord Muruga learned the meaning of Omkara when he was in the womb of his mother.
While i was class first from nursery to third standard, i was not upto the mark from 4th to 10th. I was third or fourth in the entire college for my pre degree. The astrologers say it is budha mandyam or so.
Swami Vivekananda could memorise a whole book by just looking at the pages. But he says that education is the unlearning of mundane things and it is the manifestation of the inner self.
I learned purusha suktham by just repeating while i was at the age of 10 whereas i could understand some of the words only when i was 18.
When some parents and teachers give thrashings to their children, i have felt sorry because i believe that it is not their fault.
so what is education..when it starts..
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
cow days
I was then studying in 6th or 7th std. We were staying in a agraharam. In Trivandrum it is called, theruvu. Our street was a single row of houses situated on the Airport road before the West Fort. Our back side was a palace where the King used to rest before welcoming the Lord on his return from Arat. The street houses are in a row and lengthwise. There was a front room, then a rezhi a dark room but very cool. Then comes the thalam lit by natural light from the top. It will be good to see rain water falling. Then the “Adukalai” (kitchen) Our kitchen is small. There would be a path outside the kitchen that leads to muttam and after some free space (where there is a thulasi thara) and then a small kottil (where the fire items like viraku (wooden pieces), onakka thondu (this is also used for homams, srai, kari etc etc. Thereafter the bathrooms. It is difficult only if we want to go there during midnights. We were very happy. There was a nelli maram, some coconut trees and a cow shed in the backyard. After the wall, there is the free land of the palace where grass grows thick and high. Our house was owned by one Nagamma mami, our relative. She is now no more But her husband is now 101. The old house was later demolished and a new modern house has been put up.
The house we lived was an envious location on the Arat day. The arat procession will begin by 5 pm and will go to Sankumughom beach and return by 9 pm. While the children were happy to see the 4 pm onward procession because their eyes will be on the balloons and dolls. The making of balloon dolls is an art. He fills the air in the balloon by a hand pump and then by twists and turns a monkey or pumpkin or many a thing would be ready by a few seconds. Then it is hanged on the stand by his side . The balloons is sold as hot cakes. Some children just keeps it and it shrinks the next day. Some balloons burst with a big bang and the child cries in fear. Those are scenes to be seen. My mother has to go on making tea and will be mostly in kitchen. Sometimes we will be asked to distribute the tea and we do it with pride..They drink tea and pass on comments that we wish to hear ..”Konthe ethila padikarai? (which class you study?) Chamathu (Good boy)
Then one day my father who loved cows, bought one, so that we can drink good milk. The milk man replies when he confronted with the query “Paal thanniya irrukke?“ the cows milk is not as thick as it was in his early days..it is because of the poor quality of punnaaku (cow food) or the bad grass fodder. But we never thought it would be this hard to look after a cow. The cow , a loving animal.. it has all the required buddhi (brain). It makes different sounds for different purposes and to different persons. We have to have an eye always on it. Before we go to sleep, father puts some ‘vaikol” dried grass. Sometimes, we have to put some more during the night also. In the morning the milking man. (karavakaran) comes by 6 am. We have to keep the shed always clean. The cow dung is taken to a pit and the gomuthram (cow urine – a great medicine) has to be washed away. The cow has to be milked twice a day. But the way it licks you, and looks at you, you will love it and a bond is created unknowingly. Once, the calf was a male and so my father decided to give it to the Sreekandeswaram Temple. Even after some two days, it rushes to us when we go there. I was in tears to part with it and especially when we hear that such calves are auctioned to butchers. (we have to kneel down before our great rishis who gave the concept of goshalas)
After some months the cow was sold and another new one was bought. When the cow stops producing milk, it is sold and a new one is bought). This one was ferocious. It became my duty to catch hold of the Mukku Kayaru (a string tied by piercing the nostrils) till the milking is over.
But I will be full of pride when I am ordered to take the calf to the Palace behind our house to have grass fodder. The small one will jump and run here and there with tail kept high. But I will keep the one end of the long rope in my hand. Some times I had to run to many shops to buy dried grass. The dried grass is usually brought in lorry and there are many ‘viraku kadai” which sells this also. One was in Kaithamukku there were some two or three around Sreekandeswaram.
Once, when we moved to a new house, there was only a mulluveli around our house. But our cow somehow got wild and went beyond this to some other’s property. It ran here and there and we tried different methods. We showed fodder, we called by the cow’s name. Nothing worked till my father came and just called it. That was our last cow.
The contractor who made the cow shed made it as a room where we used to sit when it is so hot outside.
Those were our COW DAYS.
The house we lived was an envious location on the Arat day. The arat procession will begin by 5 pm and will go to Sankumughom beach and return by 9 pm. While the children were happy to see the 4 pm onward procession because their eyes will be on the balloons and dolls. The making of balloon dolls is an art. He fills the air in the balloon by a hand pump and then by twists and turns a monkey or pumpkin or many a thing would be ready by a few seconds. Then it is hanged on the stand by his side . The balloons is sold as hot cakes. Some children just keeps it and it shrinks the next day. Some balloons burst with a big bang and the child cries in fear. Those are scenes to be seen. My mother has to go on making tea and will be mostly in kitchen. Sometimes we will be asked to distribute the tea and we do it with pride..They drink tea and pass on comments that we wish to hear ..”Konthe ethila padikarai? (which class you study?) Chamathu (Good boy)
Then one day my father who loved cows, bought one, so that we can drink good milk. The milk man replies when he confronted with the query “Paal thanniya irrukke?“ the cows milk is not as thick as it was in his early days..it is because of the poor quality of punnaaku (cow food) or the bad grass fodder. But we never thought it would be this hard to look after a cow. The cow , a loving animal.. it has all the required buddhi (brain). It makes different sounds for different purposes and to different persons. We have to have an eye always on it. Before we go to sleep, father puts some ‘vaikol” dried grass. Sometimes, we have to put some more during the night also. In the morning the milking man. (karavakaran) comes by 6 am. We have to keep the shed always clean. The cow dung is taken to a pit and the gomuthram (cow urine – a great medicine) has to be washed away. The cow has to be milked twice a day. But the way it licks you, and looks at you, you will love it and a bond is created unknowingly. Once, the calf was a male and so my father decided to give it to the Sreekandeswaram Temple. Even after some two days, it rushes to us when we go there. I was in tears to part with it and especially when we hear that such calves are auctioned to butchers. (we have to kneel down before our great rishis who gave the concept of goshalas)
After some months the cow was sold and another new one was bought. When the cow stops producing milk, it is sold and a new one is bought). This one was ferocious. It became my duty to catch hold of the Mukku Kayaru (a string tied by piercing the nostrils) till the milking is over.
But I will be full of pride when I am ordered to take the calf to the Palace behind our house to have grass fodder. The small one will jump and run here and there with tail kept high. But I will keep the one end of the long rope in my hand. Some times I had to run to many shops to buy dried grass. The dried grass is usually brought in lorry and there are many ‘viraku kadai” which sells this also. One was in Kaithamukku there were some two or three around Sreekandeswaram.
Once, when we moved to a new house, there was only a mulluveli around our house. But our cow somehow got wild and went beyond this to some other’s property. It ran here and there and we tried different methods. We showed fodder, we called by the cow’s name. Nothing worked till my father came and just called it. That was our last cow.
The contractor who made the cow shed made it as a room where we used to sit when it is so hot outside.
Those were our COW DAYS.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
teachers day 05.09.2010
Today is Teachers Day. 5th of september. This year it is sunday and i happened to read some columns in the Open Page in The Hindu today. These are some of the incidents that run through my mind when i hear the word ' teacher'.
I never studied malayalam till 4th standard, in Holy Angels School. It was a girls high school and boys were allowed only upto 4th std. The subjects did not include Malayalam.
During the vacation, my father taught me some basics in the language, so that i can pick up with the lessons when i can take malayalam as second language. So i went to my 5th std with 1st std books in language. After about a week, the Malayalam Sir, began with the 5th standard text. I didnt know to read. He pinched me so bad and I cried. The next day, the sir ordered me to write a line from the text on the Black Board. I stood without able to write anything and again he pinched me severely.
I cried so much and was adamant that i will not return to that school. The next day i went with my parents and the headmaster allotted me to French batch and thereafter..it was Joy for ever.
The year was 1970. It should be somewhere in April or May. I completed my 10th standard. The School - St.Joseph's Higher Secondary School, General Hospital Jn, Trivandrum. I was one among the students waiting before the Head Master's room. Fr.Paul Kunnumkal was the HM. He is short with white beard. He usually could not speak because of some breathing problems. We understood that he was an able administrator. The HM came after his classes and the time was noon. We were waiting for some certificates to be signed by him. We all felt relieved that we could get the certificates. But all of a sudden, it seems that he was in a hurry to go out again, he shouted at us. I will sign only two..Come on Prasad and somebody else.... Prasad is now Dr.Prasad and he was always first in the class. We felt very sorry for ourselves and felt that our HM was not fair to us. As we had no choice, we waited for hours without even food.
We were in the 10th std. fr Kuncheria taught us English. His class he based on the dialogue between Kunti and Karna before the war. One day one of the boys came late and everybody laughed. He then turned to the class and told us "No", Who knows this boy may be the eldest, and would have gone to buy firewood and only after that he could get food..many poor families live like that..
Recently, we the students of 1970 French batch, celebrated 40 years of our leaving the school and 25th year of our alumni, by invitng our teachers. We sat on the same benches we sat in the VIII th Std. There were only four teachers. The Christian teachers took our hand and kissed and the Hindu teachers placed their hands on our heads, when we knealt down before them. They were very happy to be honoured.
But to be frank, the emotional ferver was absent. Was the forty years gap or was it that during those days, they did not touch our emotional chords..i dont know.
Once in Kannur, i heard that the class teacher refused to take the poem "krishna gaadha" because he was a communist ( and there were more muslim students and also that communism was strong among many families)
Another day i saw a Mash (teacher) and the student smoking beedi at a pan shop.
We remember some teachers for their love and affection (Fr Kuncheria )Some are remembered for their strictness which would have helped us later..
I feel that we like sincere teachers who did their duty dutifully and with a little affection.
I never studied malayalam till 4th standard, in Holy Angels School. It was a girls high school and boys were allowed only upto 4th std. The subjects did not include Malayalam.
During the vacation, my father taught me some basics in the language, so that i can pick up with the lessons when i can take malayalam as second language. So i went to my 5th std with 1st std books in language. After about a week, the Malayalam Sir, began with the 5th standard text. I didnt know to read. He pinched me so bad and I cried. The next day, the sir ordered me to write a line from the text on the Black Board. I stood without able to write anything and again he pinched me severely.
I cried so much and was adamant that i will not return to that school. The next day i went with my parents and the headmaster allotted me to French batch and thereafter..it was Joy for ever.
The year was 1970. It should be somewhere in April or May. I completed my 10th standard. The School - St.Joseph's Higher Secondary School, General Hospital Jn, Trivandrum. I was one among the students waiting before the Head Master's room. Fr.Paul Kunnumkal was the HM. He is short with white beard. He usually could not speak because of some breathing problems. We understood that he was an able administrator. The HM came after his classes and the time was noon. We were waiting for some certificates to be signed by him. We all felt relieved that we could get the certificates. But all of a sudden, it seems that he was in a hurry to go out again, he shouted at us. I will sign only two..Come on Prasad and somebody else.... Prasad is now Dr.Prasad and he was always first in the class. We felt very sorry for ourselves and felt that our HM was not fair to us. As we had no choice, we waited for hours without even food.
We were in the 10th std. fr Kuncheria taught us English. His class he based on the dialogue between Kunti and Karna before the war. One day one of the boys came late and everybody laughed. He then turned to the class and told us "No", Who knows this boy may be the eldest, and would have gone to buy firewood and only after that he could get food..many poor families live like that..
Recently, we the students of 1970 French batch, celebrated 40 years of our leaving the school and 25th year of our alumni, by invitng our teachers. We sat on the same benches we sat in the VIII th Std. There were only four teachers. The Christian teachers took our hand and kissed and the Hindu teachers placed their hands on our heads, when we knealt down before them. They were very happy to be honoured.
But to be frank, the emotional ferver was absent. Was the forty years gap or was it that during those days, they did not touch our emotional chords..i dont know.
Once in Kannur, i heard that the class teacher refused to take the poem "krishna gaadha" because he was a communist ( and there were more muslim students and also that communism was strong among many families)
Another day i saw a Mash (teacher) and the student smoking beedi at a pan shop.
We remember some teachers for their love and affection (Fr Kuncheria )Some are remembered for their strictness which would have helped us later..
I feel that we like sincere teachers who did their duty dutifully and with a little affection.
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