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Thursday, 7 June 2018

I have a phobia-


I am claustrophobic and horribly so .  

It all started about 15 years ago when I stayed with relatives in India and woke in the middle of the night . The room was in the center of the house – Black floor – red walls and no windows .

I panicked and felt out of breath – rushed to find another room – the house was pitch black . Finally forced a window open . It was a still summer night in northern India and there was not a breath of air outside  .

I woke everyone in the house fearing I was having a heart attack – I had palpitations and cold sweats – we all sat around  till it was day break and then I  visited  to a doctor . He gave me a few pills to calm me down and I was thrilled I was not dying -  but that’s a different story .

Thereafter I have often woken , even at home, with similar feelings . Hotel stays are okay as long as it’s a big airy room . I did stay in a hotel in Prague last year and had to go down and sit in the foyer till the management were able to find a key for the window in the room and give it to me .

 Once I knew that I had the key I felt better . I know this sounds strange but it’s the truth . As long as I know that I can open a window or door and breathe I feel confident .

When I travel alone and suddenly wake feeling breathless , I switch on the lights , make myself a cup of tea , put on the TV and then calm down . You may be smiling and commenting on how silly this is but when you have a phobia – it’s something only you can comprehend

I was once asleep in the A 380  - comfortable and cool . I then woke with the same suffocating feeling . Feeling rather silly I walked to the Bar in the sky at 3 am – it is an open space compared to where I was sitting . I then felt better .

Meetings in a closed room see me sit as close to the door as possible . Movies and the opera are a big no and pubs and restaurants which have basement seating are avoided like the plague .

I have been advised to see a hypnotist , have acupuncture and what not . I guess it’s all in the mind .

To get over it I must . Any suggestions anyone ?

I have a phobia-


I am claustrophobic and horribly so .  

It all started about 15 years ago when I stayed with relatives in India and woke in the middle of the night . The room was in the center of the house – Black floor – red walls and no windows .

I panicked and felt out of breath – rushed to find another room – the house was pitch black . Finally forced a window open . It was a still summer night in northern India and there was not a breath of air outside  .

I woke everyone in the house fearing I was having a heart attack – I had palpitations and cold sweats – we all sat around  till it was day break and then I  visited  to a doctor . He gave me a few pills to calm me down and I was thrilled I was not dying -  but that’s a different story .

Thereafter I have often woken , even at home, with similar feelings . Hotel stays are okay as long as it’s a big airy room . I did stay in a hotel in Prague last year and had to go down and sit in the foyer till the management were able to find a key for the window in the room and give it to me .

 Once I knew that I had the key I felt better . I know this sounds strange but it’s the truth . As long as I know that I can open a window or door and breathe I feel confident .

When I travel alone and suddenly wake feeling breathless , I switch on the lights , make myself a cup of tea , put on the TV and then calm down . You may be smiling and commenting on how silly this is but when you have a phobia – it’s something only you can comprehend

I was once asleep in the A 380  - comfortable and cool . I then woke with the same suffocating feeling . Feeling rather silly I walked to the Bar in the sky at 3 am – it is an open space compared to where I was sitting . I then felt better .

Meetings in a closed room see me sit as close to the door as possible . Movies and the opera are a big no and pubs and restaurants which have basement seating are avoided like the plague .

I have been advised to see a hypnotist , have acupuncture and what not . I guess it’s all in the mind .

To get over it I must . Any suggestions anyone ?

Saturday, 2 June 2018


On most evenings I walk to Zabeel park in Karama in an attempt to lose weight . Not there yet but well on the way . If you have visited this park you would  have  noticed that there are plenty of cats all around . Thin ones, fat ones , black ones , white ones , striped ones – have never seen a spotted one though . Now that would be something to write home about .

You would have also noticed that there are many good Samaritans  who go around the park feeding them . Not sure if this is against some rules or not  but the cats are happy . They seem to recognize the “regular feeders” and charge towards them as soon as they spot them . They are quite friendly and wait patiently till the food is put out – then they devour it and quickly look up for more morsels if any .

As a young lad I always had a dog and cats were anathema to me . However  all that changed one fine day after I came to Dubai.

 

" Can you hear someone in the hall room? " says the wife

 

" No I can't " , I replied - pulling the cover over my head and turning over . -

 

Wife " Sounds like there is a cat in the house - go and check "

 

Me'' Go check and  chase it out yourself - your fault for leaving the window open "

 

And then the fight almost started - but then I am the peaceful sort of guy .......!!

 

For goodness sake it was 11 pm and I had work the next day. However I got up - the "HE MAN" - ready to kill the cat - or to put it in the correct perspective- chase it out and get back to bed !

 

I walk towards the hall, conjuring up images of a large fierce cat with large glowing eyes - tail waving in anger- ready to pounce on me   .

 

" Be careful you don’t get scratched " says the voice from inside .

 

" Uff - let it be", I reply – half in fear and half in disgust .

 

I look around ........

 

There- beaming- stands my daughter , pointing to the sofa .

 

I rub my eyes- I can't see a thing amongst  the cream cushions and I had not put on my spectacles either  . There was  a pregnant silence .

 

Then I see it - a little ball of cream fluff - a kitten- it was snuggled up and staring at me - almost defiantly with its  little beady green eyes

 

Do I chase it out , do I scream , do I kill it ?. I had promised to do all this and more every time the topic had been broached in the past .

 

Now here I was and it was the  time of reckoning - We stared at each other ( the kitten and me )

 

Then I made a move - I went forward , picked it up and kissed it .

 

"Her name is Chanel  " Says my daughter

 

" What ?? " say I .

 

" No it's not - its Kitty - maybe let’s call it baby or munchkins, or Little one " Say I

 

Why was I even discussing a name when we were not keeping it in the first place? Silly me .

 

" There is the litter box- This is the  box  in which she will sleep - this is her food - her plate - her covering - she will sleep here " says my daughter .

“Who asked you to get a cat in the first place “ say I  

 

The wife enters the room . She smiles at the kitten and looks at me . “So” she says .  Obviously she had known about this and hidden it from me .

 

" Did I just see the kitten smile back at her  ?"

 

All three exchange knowing glances and I am the odd one out . My elder daughter had now joined in – “ so cute and cuddly “ says she .

 

" Don’t make any plans " I try and sound as aggressive as possible . “ I will get rid of her in the morning “ I left the room and went to bed .

 

There is a little whining ( from the cat ) . The wife and daughters whisper – there is laughter - then silence . All three were obviously happy I had left the scene

 

I wake early and go in search of the kitten .

 

She is awake and she looks imploringly at me, almost willing me to pick her up and hug her .

 

My heart melts . I do the unthinkable – I tickle her and pick her up . She seems to enjoy it .

I hurriedly put her down and plan my next move

 

She comes running to me - mewing .

 

" Come to dada " , I say and pick her up .

 

"Dada" ?? What the hell is wrong with me . I am supposed to be getting rid of this little creature . That was the plan . I am a no nonsense sort of guy. No cats in this house I say to myself

I put her down and give her some food and sit there while she first sniffs at it for a few moments and then begins eating . I will get her out of the house before the others wake – that’s final

 

More than a year has  gone by and she is  still with us – very much part of the family . With 2 daughters and a wife I now have three females to contend with.

 

I play with her daily- many times a day . She  likes me and crouches every time I look and try and scare her  . She enjoys rough play - nibbles on my fingers and toes and comes running to greet me  as I enter the door .

 

I say bye when leaving for work and she is the first thing I look for when I return .

 

Today I lay on the carpet and she  was all over me and we played and we had fun. I certainly did .

 

I feel relaxed and very amused .

 

While I key in these memories she is on my lap- cuddled up and fast asleep.

 

I guess we have a pet and YES we are going to keep her for as long as we can .

 

On most evenings I walk to Zabeel park in Karama in an attempt to lose weight . Not there yet but well on the way . If you have visited this park you would  have  noticed that there are plenty of cats all around . Thin ones, fat ones , black ones , white ones , striped ones – have never seen a spotted one though . Now that would be something to write home about .

You would have also noticed that there are many good Samaritans  who go around the park feeding them . Not sure if this is against some rules or not  but the cats are happy . They seem to recognize the “regular feeders” and charge towards them as soon as they spot them . They are quite friendly and wait patiently till the food is put out – then they devour it and quickly look up for more morsels if any .

As a young lad I always had a dog and cats were anathema to me . However  all that changed one fine day after I came to Dubai.

 

" Can you hear someone in the hall room? " says the wife

 

" No I can't " , I replied - pulling the cover over my head and turning over . -

 

Wife " Sounds like there is a cat in the house - go and check "

 

Me'' Go check and  chase it out yourself - your fault for leaving the window open "

 

And then the fight almost started - but then I am the peaceful sort of guy .......!!

 

For goodness sake it was 11 pm and I had work the next day. However I got up - the "HE MAN" - ready to kill the cat - or to put it in the correct perspective- chase it out and get back to bed !

 

I walk towards the hall, conjuring up images of a large fierce cat with large glowing eyes - tail waving in anger- ready to pounce on me   .

 

" Be careful you don’t get scratched " says the voice from inside .

 

" Uff - let it be", I reply – half in fear and half in disgust .

 

I look around ........

 

There- beaming- stands my daughter , pointing to the sofa .

 

I rub my eyes- I can't see a thing amongst  the cream cushions and I had not put on my spectacles either  . There was  a pregnant silence .

 

Then I see it - a little ball of cream fluff - a kitten- it was snuggled up and staring at me - almost defiantly with its  little beady green eyes

 

Do I chase it out , do I scream , do I kill it ?. I had promised to do all this and more every time the topic had been broached in the past .

 

Now here I was and it was the  time of reckoning - We stared at each other ( the kitten and me )

 

Then I made a move - I went forward , picked it up and kissed it .

 

"Her name is Chanel  " Says my daughter

 

" What ?? " say I .

 

" No it's not - its Kitty - maybe let’s call it baby or munchkins, or Little one " Say I

 

Why was I even discussing a name when we were not keeping it in the first place? Silly me .

 

" There is the litter box- This is the  box  in which she will sleep - this is her food - her plate - her covering - she will sleep here " says my daughter .

“Who asked you to get a cat in the first place “ say I  

 

The wife enters the room . She smiles at the kitten and looks at me . “So” she says .  Obviously she had known about this and hidden it from me .

 

" Did I just see the kitten smile back at her  ?"

 

All three exchange knowing glances and I am the odd one out . My elder daughter had now joined in – “ so cute and cuddly “ says she .

 

" Don’t make any plans " I try and sound as aggressive as possible . “ I will get rid of her in the morning “ I left the room and went to bed .

 

There is a little whining ( from the cat ) . The wife and daughters whisper – there is laughter - then silence . All three were obviously happy I had left the scene

 

I wake early and go in search of the kitten .

 

She is awake and she looks imploringly at me, almost willing me to pick her up and hug her .

 

My heart melts . I do the unthinkable – I tickle her and pick her up . She seems to enjoy it .

I hurriedly put her down and plan my next move

 

She comes running to me - mewing .

 

" Come to dada " , I say and pick her up .

 

"Dada" ?? What the hell is wrong with me . I am supposed to be getting rid of this little creature . That was the plan . I am a no nonsense sort of guy. No cats in this house I say to myself

I put her down and give her some food and sit there while she first sniffs at it for a few moments and then begins eating . I will get her out of the house before the others wake – that’s final

 

More than a year has  gone by and she is  still with us – very much part of the family . With 2 daughters and a wife I now have three females to contend with.

 

I play with her daily- many times a day . She  likes me and crouches every time I look and try and scare her  . She enjoys rough play - nibbles on my fingers and toes and comes running to greet me  as I enter the door .

 

I say bye when leaving for work and she is the first thing I look for when I return .

 

Today I lay on the carpet and she  was all over me and we played and we had fun. I certainly did .

 

I feel relaxed and very amused .

 

While I key in these memories she is on my lap- cuddled up and fast asleep.

 

I guess we have a pet and YES we are going to keep her for as long as we can .

 

The farce about high percentages

Examinations and results.
Whenever results are announced , everyone starts discussing percentages . Pupils , schools and even Teachers are rated on the percentages obtained .
Sad state of affairs indeed and all of us running this rat race are equally to blame .
Soft skills are often ignored or not given sufficient importance , so also the fact that everyone is not equally adept at memorising and spewing forth in a few hours .
What about truly inclusive schools that have adm...itted and worked hard with weaker pupils and got them to pass .
Is life all about Physics, Chemistry , English , Maths and Social studies?
What about the musicians , the story tellers , the dancers , the sportsmen? Just because they never achieved that 80 or 90 % are we writing them off as "also ran"?
Will they not be a success ? So why are they being ignored and not celebrated .
The news papers and news channels are filled with the so called success stories of how so and so got 99% and how hard they worked to hit the jackpot - and which colleges are falling over themselves to grant them admission with a scholarship to boot .
Over my years in education, I have seen that those pupils may not have done well in school no doubt but more often than not it has been the late bloomer who is now atop the food chain so to say.
Today they are entrepreneurs , owning companies and running companies for others . They are success stories personified and proud of the same , despite the fact that they were often ignored in school for not being good enough and not scoring high marks in the board examination .
You may not get a medal or your name on that Honours board but you can still make it in life . It's about time we started thinking differently . Better now than never.

The farce about high percentages

Examinations and results.
Whenever results are announced , everyone starts discussing percentages . Pupils , schools and even Teachers are rated on the percentages obtained .
Sad state of affairs indeed and all of us running this rat race are equally to blame .
Soft skills are often ignored or not given sufficient importance , so also the fact that everyone is not equally adept at memorising and spewing forth in a few hours .
What about truly inclusive schools that have adm...itted and worked hard with weaker pupils and got them to pass .
Is life all about Physics, Chemistry , English , Maths and Social studies?
What about the musicians , the story tellers , the dancers , the sportsmen? Just because they never achieved that 80 or 90 % are we writing them off as "also ran"?
Will they not be a success ? So why are they being ignored and not celebrated .
The news papers and news channels are filled with the so called success stories of how so and so got 99% and how hard they worked to hit the jackpot - and which colleges are falling over themselves to grant them admission with a scholarship to boot .
Over my years in education, I have seen that those pupils may not have done well in school no doubt but more often than not it has been the late bloomer who is now atop the food chain so to say.
Today they are entrepreneurs , owning companies and running companies for others . They are success stories personified and proud of the same , despite the fact that they were often ignored in school for not being good enough and not scoring high marks in the board examination .
You may not get a medal or your name on that Honours board but you can still make it in life . It's about time we started thinking differently . Better now than never.

Friday, 13 April 2018

A tribute to Mr B W Roberts


His life was gentle, and the elements mixed so well in him that Nature might stand up and say to all  the world, “This was a man.”

Dear Bishopites and friends.

Am putting a few words together to salute a giant of a man – a leader of leaders, a God fearing individual and a gentleman to the core.

 Mr B W Roberts is no more in our midst  but his legacy will live on ,as he joins his master and takes his place at the table reserved for the chosen ones .

As I join a lot of old boys in Pune in spirit ,to condone and pray for his  beloved soul , I cannot help but reflect on the 20 years I spent in Bishops – 18 working under Mr Roberts- 18 of the best years in my life .

He gave me a job in Bishops without even interviewing me – he knew my mother from his Allahabad days  and then trusted the recommendation of two of my good friends who were in Bishops at that time – Alan Seymour and Michael Gomes .

I reached Pune on a wet afternoon and after a quick bath was taken to meet Mr Roberts . He was in the bungalow and he welcomed me warmly. I had never visited a Principal in his house before but his first few words were enough to make me feel happy and secure – “welcome to Bishops my boy and if you need anything come and ask me”. We then had a cup of tea and ‘bhajiyas’ and talked about Allahabad , our common hometown .

I also met Mrs Roberts and Jean that day and it was the beginning of a lifelong friendship with the family . Although I lead a large number of schools with thousands of pupils in the UAE now , everything I know about Leadership was learnt from Mr Roberts – by listening , observing and working closely with him . He was my mentor , guide and a father figure to many .

He was a tough leader, he knew his mind, was very determined, loved to build, & was a strict disciplinarian. The word can’t was not in his dictionary and he loved a challenge.

Who can forget Mr Roberts on his beloved Luna- wearing his Academic gown and zipping around ! There are a million memories….

Mr Roberts at Assembly – an imposing figure at the mike – leading the prayers and hymns – his booming voice setting the tone for the day. When he was in a good mood, assemblies were fun. If something had gone wrong, there was pin drop silence in the hall and everyone (teachers included ) left in silence after assembly  .Then there was the dreaded mark reading . If you were among the top 15 in the class , all was well – if anywhere among the failures you felt like sinking into the floor because Mr Roberts made sure he blasted the day lights out of you “ Take 3 steps forward “ were words no boys wanted to hear and which I am sure many will remember even today !

What about meal times – when he walked around the dining hall, and joked with the MOD and some favourite boarders. He made sure he had a word with the bearers and cooks as well.

Founders week- the church service where he gave the sermon and talked about two types of people in the world- those who build and those who destroy. He loved the fete and the counting of the coupons and taking in the accounts to see how much profit had been made. He made sure that all those who were helping him with the job at that time got an India Ice cream !! And yes – put the remaining gifts on the table !

Boxing was something he enjoyed as well and year after year he sat through all the bouts , cheering the boys on and pulling Aspi Irani’s leg !( Boxers would remember Mr Irani )

The Prefect investiture ceremony on the uppers was another of his favourites as he announced the names and pinned on the badges. The speeches on such days were inspiring and so motivational

Although there were many old masters and teachers , all respected and revered , Mr Roberts, Mr D Beaman and Mr  R Ringrow – they made a great threesome and ran Bishops for years together .

When I took over as First Assistant Master and later as Headmaster , I worked closely with Mr Roberts and Mr Beaman and go to know them both very well .

Mr Roberts loved to build – anything. A wall, a drain , a room- give him  something old to have  pulled down and something new to have  put up and he was in his elements !

It did not matter if it was early in the morning , in the blazing sun at noon or at 8 pm when everyone was ready to relax- if he had a plan , he made sure it was executed and he loved people to be around him .

We often got into his old ambassador and with his faithful driver Shinde took off for the “Chor bazar” at 5 in the evening where he personally bargained for and purchased furniture for staff quarters .

I often felt that in a previous life Mr Roberts was a building contractor cum engineer. He was an expert where buildings are concerned and knew plenty and more about steel, cement, sand, bricks, weights and measures, dimensions  etc. He was responsible in a very large was for the new Simba block and the entire new wing on St Margaret’s ground – both spacious , well designed buildings .

He spent many many days and weeks from 6 am till late at night overseeing the construction of both – it was truly a labour of love . Boys enjoyed working with him- lifting bricks, cleaning grass , removing rubble . It was part of the SUPW in Bishops . He would roll up his sleeves and work himself as well , such was his simplicity.

On the other hand he could have also been a lawyer – he had a cupboard full of law books and quoted the law comfortably. I was often quite amused when hearing him talk to the school lawyers and advising them exactly what he wanted done – he would then sit for hours pouring over first drafts and making changes and he was never wrong. He won all the cases he fought .

Mr Roberts loved his breakfast – Eggs, Toast and butter , Marmite , vegetables and coffee – he relished good food . Also vividly remember an old cook cum bearer called Harry who would bring Mr Roberts scones and juice to the office  at around 11 am   .If I was there I would be offered a biscuit or a scone and both were yummy . I am sure all would also remember his famous pipe which he smoked with relish .

There was one thing no one can deny – we were all scared of Mr Roberts and that included me the Headmaster , Mr Beaman the boarding Suptd, the Staff ,Parents  Servants , boys and even the very gentle Mrs Roberts . He ran a tight ship and as captain he brooked no nonsense. Often I would chat with Mrs Roberts about school and both of us would plan how to bell the cat the next morning! We would then go to Sirs office together – if we saw him smiling we would go in a discuss what had to be discussed – if there was any noise or shouting we would slink away to fight another day! We often asked Das his peon about Sahib’s mood and if the signal was green, we were relieved!

I could go on about Mr Roberts – him going into random classes and teaching Chemistry/ Physics/ Math . His walking into the billiard  room and taking a few shots (not realizing he was playing with the MOD who was  supposed to be on duty) , him firing parents who dared to question him , him sitting for photographs being taken by  Mr Jagos , him and the family attending the Friday movie on the uppers, him welcoming the old boys at the lunch after the Founders cricket match  , him attending the dorm feasts

Mr Roberts had no favourites . He treated everyone the same and he was loved for his simplicity and down to earth attitude. There were no airs and no graces.

Sir will go down in History as one of the longest serving Principals of Bishops-  the most loved and respected - and under whose guidance the school had a name like no other  .

Mr Roberts sir – WE SALUTE YOU