BEING LATE IS NOT TRENDY

BEING LATE IS NOT TRENDY

Something happened the other day and it set me thinking.
I received a call from our Corporate office and the lady asked me if I could send her a copy of my Emirates ID as it was needed by the bank. As I was busy at the time and not sure if I had a copy of the ID in my mail , I immediately mailed a Senior Administrative manager in the school I have my office in  and simultaneously another lady who helps me with secretarial work and asked them if they had a copy of the same and if they did , could they please forward it to the lady in the Head office .
That done, I suddenly realised that I could have, just as easily, scanned the ID with my phone and sent it through myself without bothering anyone. So that is exactly what I did. All this within about five minutes of receiving the request.
In the span of a few minutes all three of us had duplicated the same task!
I gave this example, as I believe, like me, there are many in this world who when given a task to complete, do so at the earliest, as they value time- theirs and everyone else’s
 Time shows dependability and responsibility and is a character trait people should strive to cultivate.
Yes, time is a precious commodity but is sadly underestimated currently. The best proverb on time is definitely “Time and tide wait for no one.”
I have known people over the years who have been at both ends of the spectrum. Some who are fastidious about time, are never late and never keep anyone waiting – punctuality being their forte. There are others who can never be on time- they procrastinate and feel no sense of remorse about never being punctual.
Let me tell you about a few people, some whose names I will take and some that I will not so as not to embarrass them.
My earliest memory is of my mother who was never late for work , for church and for anything for that matter – I probably picked up that habit from her and I always thank her for instilling in me unknowingly, the value of time.
In the cathedral in Allahabad, when I was growing up, there was an extremely strict parish priest called Fr Alva. When young parishioners arrived late and tried to slip into the pews at the rear  of the church , he would make an example of them, stop the mass midway , and order them to come and sit in the front. It had the desirable effect – there were very few late comers. I guess if they did arrive late, they stayed outside rather that risk the wrath of the old priest!
Growing up I somehow felt that I was expected to be home by nine pm and so dot on the stroke of nine I was usually home! No one had told me to be home at that time but wherever I was, the self-imposed deadline beckoned me.

When I moved to teach in Pune, I worked under a gentleman called Derek Beaman who oversaw the large Boarding establishment.
Where there are boarders, there is a time schedule – even today, 20 years after leaving the school I remember the times for the rising bell, the various meals, studies etc – this includes weekend timings which varied!
If there was anyone who was fastidious about time it was him. At that time, we felt he was obsessed with hours, minutes and seconds and rather finicky too.  The Masters on Duty were tasked with running the activities for the day and ensuring the bell was rung on time. Often out of frustration, tiredness , boredom or just  plain laziness we would ask the Prefect to ring the bell a few minutes early – usually  for the boarders to break from study and go for a meal or  to end evening or night study .
Now let me tell you why that mattered so much to Mr Beaman. He led a very structured life so whether it was waking on the Race course tracks,  , eating , bathing , walking his dog ,listening to the BBC news or just  marking  exercise books – he did everything  according to a schedule and God forbid if any one spoilt the same by having the bell rung early ! I must add that the BBC was, metaphorically speaking,  his life and his radio was probably only tuned to that channel so he had memorized the programme timings
When the bell was rung early, Mr Beaman would know it instantly as his favourite radio programme had ben interrupted . He would then come charging down from his residence which was in one of the oldest buildings on the campus and literally chew up the irresponsible soul! He believed that there was a big difference between 7.28 pm and 7. 30 pm and he was right.  We all became so conditioned by his behaviour that soon everyone kept staring at their watch and the clock on the wall and ringing the bell on the dot!
This was an old school for those not from Bishops, let me tell you that it had quite a large campus comprising different buildings and in some of these buildings there were  old weather beaten clocks which needed to be wound every twenty-four hours.
No clues for guessing who oversaw winding of the clocks – Yes Mr Beaman. Every morning he religiously went to all the various buildings- setting & winding the clocks, much to the amusement of many of the staff and boys who stayed on campus.
Mr Bowland Roberts, the Principal at that time, had a different idea of time. Punctual by nature, he was somehow late for one thing at times and that was morning assembly. He would then breeze into the hall, rush on to the stage and stare at the Bible or the book of instructions for the day. If the chatter did not die down, he would look over the rims of his spectacles till there was pin drop silence.
When I took over as Headmaster in the late eighties, one thing I was very particular about was the period starting on time after breaks when most boys tried strolling into class. Hence, I would stand outside the main academic block as soon as the bell was rung.
 Teachers who were late themselves were soon running to class too. Then someone invented a new ploy which caught on soon. When they were late for class – rather than going straight to class looking guilty as hell in the bargain , they would walk towards me with a very determined, brisk stride and ask me some vague question in a very matter of fact manner . I believe that teachers, above all, must set an example by being punctual. Rushing into class late is something I really abhor till this date. Being  on time not only tells other people you are dependable, but teaches you that you can depend on yourself too .
For my part, time worries me – or let me rephrase that – being late worries me.  This often causes me to get into bad books with the family. If there is a flight to catch (earlier, it was a train) I am on pins and needles from the day before. Although I should be at the airport three hours prior to departure at the very least – I add on a half hour more just to be sure! That usually sees me sitting in the lounge for a few hours – not that I mind it.
I hate to keep people waiting – I think it is bad manners if you make it a habit. Hence whenever I conducted a meeting, people walking in late irritated me. They would often cause me to stop,look at them over the rims of my spectacles and then at my watch. You know who I learnt that from !
This would cause everyone to look around while the late comer prayed for a hole to open so they could dive for cover!
When my daughter got  married a few months ago I was adamant , that despite it being the trend , she was not going to be late so  much so that the poor girl  was on the church premises ten minutes before time and had to  wait in the car . The groom’s family were also requested a dozen times or more by me to ensure they were not late, and I had umpteen people monitoring all movement.
I guess they over did the ‘be on time part’ and were in church half an hour before the schedule start.  I thanked them profusely and they smiled- am sure some of them were probably irritated with me for stressing them out!   In fact – and this is the truth – the priest remarked that my daughter was the first bride he could remember who was on time! I wanted to take a bow! All I got for the effort however were a few sarcastic looks from my immediate family.
Then there was a colleague who was always late for our Corporate meetings – he was surely a chronic case. Wasn’t that dereliction of duty?  In fact, his arriving late became something of a joke, yet I do not think it bothered him much as he often joined in the laughter. For me, being late is certainly not stylish or quirky – I think it’s downright rude.
There are also those who, when invited for a party at nine, make a grand entrance at eleven without so much as a by your leave.
When senior colleagues and myself are invited to any function at the residence of  the boss ,  we are usually waiting, fifteen minutes prior to the given time , in our cars on an adjoining lane . Then on the stroke of the appointed hour we enter –this has  just become a habit over the years and I feel, a good one at that.
You would have noticed that when people are late for anything, they blame the traffic, the faulty alarm clock, others for delaying them and everyone and everything else but the main culprit- themselves. Being punctual shows your humility. I once saw a bumper sticker while on holiday which read: “Always late, but worth the wait” That sure is presumptuous isn’t it? .
I guess it is Murphy’s law but if you start getting late for an appointment, things keep going wrong and you get more delayed. On the very  rare occasions I happen to be running  late and trying to hurry to make up time , I  suddenly   can’t find my car keys or my spectacles , – the lift takes ages to come up and stops at every floor  and once in the car , I get stopped at every red light .
Let me tell you that I detest clinics, hospitals and others who make such a fuss about making an appointment. I understand the necessity of the same, so I do so religiously. However, being given a ten am appointment and reminded that morning to make sure I am on time- then being called in at ten forty-five or eleven is just not on.
I have many in laws and punctuality is certainly not among their many virtues. However, despite me moaning about the same it has not remedied the situation. I could write a book on this part of my story, but I need to live to fight another day, so I will not!
Many of you know that I have a cat at home.  She does not wear a watch and cannot read the time but come 4. 30 am and she is beside my face, purring and trying to wake me up.
She sure knows something about time!

BEING LATE IS NOT TRENDY

BEING LATE IS NOT TRENDY

Something happened the other day and it set me thinking.
I received a call from our Corporate office and the lady asked me if I could send her a copy of my Emirates ID as it was needed by the bank. As I was busy at the time and not sure if I had a copy of the ID in my mail , I immediately mailed a Senior Administrative manager in the school I have my office in  and simultaneously another lady who helps me with secretarial work and asked them if they had a copy of the same and if they did , could they please forward it to the lady in the Head office .
That done, I suddenly realised that I could have, just as easily, scanned the ID with my phone and sent it through myself without bothering anyone. So that is exactly what I did. All this within about five minutes of receiving the request.
In the span of a few minutes all three of us had duplicated the same task!
I gave this example, as I believe, like me, there are many in this world who when given a task to complete, do so at the earliest, as they value time- theirs and everyone else’s
 Time shows dependability and responsibility and is a character trait people should strive to cultivate.
Yes, time is a precious commodity but is sadly underestimated currently. The best proverb on time is definitely “Time and tide wait for no one.”
I have known people over the years who have been at both ends of the spectrum. Some who are fastidious about time, are never late and never keep anyone waiting – punctuality being their forte. There are others who can never be on time- they procrastinate and feel no sense of remorse about never being punctual.
Let me tell you about a few people, some whose names I will take and some that I will not so as not to embarrass them.
My earliest memory is of my mother who was never late for work , for church and for anything for that matter – I probably picked up that habit from her and I always thank her for instilling in me unknowingly, the value of time.
In the cathedral in Allahabad, when I was growing up, there was an extremely strict parish priest called Fr Alva. When young parishioners arrived late and tried to slip into the pews at the rear  of the church , he would make an example of them, stop the mass midway , and order them to come and sit in the front. It had the desirable effect – there were very few late comers. I guess if they did arrive late, they stayed outside rather that risk the wrath of the old priest!
Growing up I somehow felt that I was expected to be home by nine pm and so dot on the stroke of nine I was usually home! No one had told me to be home at that time but wherever I was, the self-imposed deadline beckoned me.

When I moved to teach in Pune, I worked under a gentleman called Derek Beaman who oversaw the large Boarding establishment.
Where there are boarders, there is a time schedule – even today, 20 years after leaving the school I remember the times for the rising bell, the various meals, studies etc – this includes weekend timings which varied!
If there was anyone who was fastidious about time it was him. At that time, we felt he was obsessed with hours, minutes and seconds and rather finicky too.  The Masters on Duty were tasked with running the activities for the day and ensuring the bell was rung on time. Often out of frustration, tiredness , boredom or just  plain laziness we would ask the Prefect to ring the bell a few minutes early – usually  for the boarders to break from study and go for a meal or  to end evening or night study .
Now let me tell you why that mattered so much to Mr Beaman. He led a very structured life so whether it was waking on the Race course tracks,  , eating , bathing , walking his dog ,listening to the BBC news or just  marking  exercise books – he did everything  according to a schedule and God forbid if any one spoilt the same by having the bell rung early ! I must add that the BBC was, metaphorically speaking,  his life and his radio was probably only tuned to that channel so he had memorized the programme timings
When the bell was rung early, Mr Beaman would know it instantly as his favourite radio programme had ben interrupted . He would then come charging down from his residence which was in one of the oldest buildings on the campus and literally chew up the irresponsible soul! He believed that there was a big difference between 7.28 pm and 7. 30 pm and he was right.  We all became so conditioned by his behaviour that soon everyone kept staring at their watch and the clock on the wall and ringing the bell on the dot!
This was an old school for those not from Bishops, let me tell you that it had quite a large campus comprising different buildings and in some of these buildings there were  old weather beaten clocks which needed to be wound every twenty-four hours.
No clues for guessing who oversaw winding of the clocks – Yes Mr Beaman. Every morning he religiously went to all the various buildings- setting & winding the clocks, much to the amusement of many of the staff and boys who stayed on campus.
Mr Bowland Roberts, the Principal at that time, had a different idea of time. Punctual by nature, he was somehow late for one thing at times and that was morning assembly. He would then breeze into the hall, rush on to the stage and stare at the Bible or the book of instructions for the day. If the chatter did not die down, he would look over the rims of his spectacles till there was pin drop silence.
When I took over as Headmaster in the late eighties, one thing I was very particular about was the period starting on time after breaks when most boys tried strolling into class. Hence, I would stand outside the main academic block as soon as the bell was rung.
 Teachers who were late themselves were soon running to class too. Then someone invented a new ploy which caught on soon. When they were late for class – rather than going straight to class looking guilty as hell in the bargain , they would walk towards me with a very determined, brisk stride and ask me some vague question in a very matter of fact manner . I believe that teachers, above all, must set an example by being punctual. Rushing into class late is something I really abhor till this date. Being  on time not only tells other people you are dependable, but teaches you that you can depend on yourself too .
For my part, time worries me – or let me rephrase that – being late worries me.  This often causes me to get into bad books with the family. If there is a flight to catch (earlier, it was a train) I am on pins and needles from the day before. Although I should be at the airport three hours prior to departure at the very least – I add on a half hour more just to be sure! That usually sees me sitting in the lounge for a few hours – not that I mind it.
I hate to keep people waiting – I think it is bad manners if you make it a habit. Hence whenever I conducted a meeting, people walking in late irritated me. They would often cause me to stop,look at them over the rims of my spectacles and then at my watch. You know who I learnt that from !
This would cause everyone to look around while the late comer prayed for a hole to open so they could dive for cover!
When my daughter got  married a few months ago I was adamant , that despite it being the trend , she was not going to be late so  much so that the poor girl  was on the church premises ten minutes before time and had to  wait in the car . The groom’s family were also requested a dozen times or more by me to ensure they were not late, and I had umpteen people monitoring all movement.
I guess they over did the ‘be on time part’ and were in church half an hour before the schedule start.  I thanked them profusely and they smiled- am sure some of them were probably irritated with me for stressing them out!   In fact – and this is the truth – the priest remarked that my daughter was the first bride he could remember who was on time! I wanted to take a bow! All I got for the effort however were a few sarcastic looks from my immediate family.
Then there was a colleague who was always late for our Corporate meetings – he was surely a chronic case. Wasn’t that dereliction of duty?  In fact, his arriving late became something of a joke, yet I do not think it bothered him much as he often joined in the laughter. For me, being late is certainly not stylish or quirky – I think it’s downright rude.
There are also those who, when invited for a party at nine, make a grand entrance at eleven without so much as a by your leave.
When senior colleagues and myself are invited to any function at the residence of  the boss ,  we are usually waiting, fifteen minutes prior to the given time , in our cars on an adjoining lane . Then on the stroke of the appointed hour we enter –this has  just become a habit over the years and I feel, a good one at that.
You would have noticed that when people are late for anything, they blame the traffic, the faulty alarm clock, others for delaying them and everyone and everything else but the main culprit- themselves. Being punctual shows your humility. I once saw a bumper sticker while on holiday which read: “Always late, but worth the wait” That sure is presumptuous isn’t it? .
I guess it is Murphy’s law but if you start getting late for an appointment, things keep going wrong and you get more delayed. On the very  rare occasions I happen to be running  late and trying to hurry to make up time , I  suddenly   can’t find my car keys or my spectacles , – the lift takes ages to come up and stops at every floor  and once in the car , I get stopped at every red light .
Let me tell you that I detest clinics, hospitals and others who make such a fuss about making an appointment. I understand the necessity of the same, so I do so religiously. However, being given a ten am appointment and reminded that morning to make sure I am on time- then being called in at ten forty-five or eleven is just not on.
I have many in laws and punctuality is certainly not among their many virtues. However, despite me moaning about the same it has not remedied the situation. I could write a book on this part of my story, but I need to live to fight another day, so I will not!
Many of you know that I have a cat at home.  She does not wear a watch and cannot read the time but come 4. 30 am and she is beside my face, purring and trying to wake me up.
She sure knows something about time!

It takes different types to make up the world

Do you have a friend, colleague, or acquaintance who, at times you would prefer to avoid? Have you suddenly met someone for the first time in your life and after the first few minutes of the conversation, you are saying to yourself “why me Lord”? I guess all of us have had our fair share of these types in our lives at some time or the other. I certainly have. So, what does one do when they suddenly appear, seemingly out of nowhere and seem to literally be coming in your direction? Here are some the things I have done to avoid the agony – Turned and walked purposefully in the opposite direction while appearing deep in thought or whipped out my phone and started an imaginary conversation with a ghost on the other end of the line. Depending on the location, I have immediately started a heated discussion with someone else, entered another office or have begun typing furiously on my computer as if my life depended on that mail. I have also, often put my hand on the land line phone and requested to be excused as I was waiting for an extremely urgent call. Scribbling furiously on a pad has also worked for me ! Call me devious if you will but desperate times call for desperate measures! I have had to do all the above and more because there are some people in this world who have attempted to suck the energy out of me. Often, they have left me drained and extremely jaded. The look on their faces, the tone of their voice , the phrases they use and the remarks they pass are enough to make a soldier fall ill, a flower to wilt , a cat to refuse milk or a dog to ignore his bone- okay that may be a bit of an exaggeration and a trifle over the top but I am sure by now you get the drift . You may not believe, this but research has proven that it is their low vibrational emotions that can leave you feeling exhausted, irritated, frustrated, and if I may add - totally overwhelmed. These energy vampires are everywhere. They pop up at the least expected place and time and can ruin your day. You bump into them at the mall, suddenly see them outside church, at the cinema, at a party or God forbid in a plane – and that too in the seat beside you! Such people can be divided into two types – the exuberant and the sad. The exuberant will come up to you, bouncing and beaming with energy and here are some of the things they will say with ‘syrupy empathy’ if I may coin a phrase . “All well? You do not look too good. Anything I should know?” “You look pretty pulled down – you better get a check-up” “Don’t play the fool with your health – please go to the doctor” “You’ve lost a lot of weight Boss – I almost didn’t recognize you” “You’re looking so sad – what’s upsetting you” “You’re not your usual self today” As if that were not enough to make you feel ill and debilitated, they dissect parts of you – starting from the head and moving downwards. “What’s with your hair – no life at all in it / don’t tell me you are losing your hair” “Your eyes are so sunk in / you have dark circles under your eyes / the whites of your eyes have a yellowish tinge / you’re looking so sleepy and tired out” “Please don’t tell me you are coming down with Jaundice” “What’s with your skin- its so dry/ looking patchy / why the sallow look/ you look so pale” “Are you not eating well – you’re all skin and bones” “Your lips have turned so dark/ what is with the dry chapped lips- they are a sign of poor health” “Straighten your shoulders, you’re looking so old” “Is that a paunch I see – better get your BP checked”- not good for the heart” “All okay on the home front?’’ Then there are the self-pitying, melancholy, sombre souls, who seemingly carry the sorrows of the world on their shoulders. With them, the conversation if you can call it that, goes somewhat like this Me “So what’s happening”? They “nothing much – just feeling so depressed” Me “Why don’t you go out somewhere” They “Where to go- nothing exciting” Me at a get together, “Come on dance/ join in the games – it’s fun” They- “Our days are over- no more dancing and games for us” Me- “We are going to so and so place in the evening – Coming?” They – “Not sure / Let’s see how we feel/so much to do at home” You are also very likely to meet or be called upon to deal with, despondent individuals at the workplace as well. At times they use their well-known, dispirited nature, to their advantage, at times to play hooky as well. Always subdued, rather wistful and with a bleak outlook to life they are agonisingly slow in speech and manner & rather annoying in everything they say and do. Whining and complaining, they always make out that they are either the victim or the martyr and look for validation. Any project you ask them to lead or any team you ask them to join will be met with either a half-hearted yes coupled with a dozen reasons why the project might not work or a downright no – the reason often given “ its so difficult to get others to work” or “people don’t appreciate my ideas”. Mind you, it is not that these manipulative individuals are incompetent – they are just ineffective, melodramatic and at times even downright devious. On the other hand, I have a relative. Definitely my role model, he is young at heart , pragmatic, enthusiastic, energetic, entertaining and the life of any party. Happy go lucky & charming he is a happy individual - always brimming with positive energy. Ask him how the day is going or how life is treating him, and his characteristic answer is “SIMPLY MARVELLOUS’’ I guess it takes all types of people to make up the world!

It takes different types to make up the world

Do you have a friend, colleague, or acquaintance who, at times you would prefer to avoid? Have you suddenly met someone for the first time in your life and after the first few minutes of the conversation, you are saying to yourself “why me Lord”? I guess all of us have had our fair share of these types in our lives at some time or the other. I certainly have. So, what does one do when they suddenly appear, seemingly out of nowhere and seem to literally be coming in your direction? Here are some the things I have done to avoid the agony – Turned and walked purposefully in the opposite direction while appearing deep in thought or whipped out my phone and started an imaginary conversation with a ghost on the other end of the line. Depending on the location, I have immediately started a heated discussion with someone else, entered another office or have begun typing furiously on my computer as if my life depended on that mail. I have also, often put my hand on the land line phone and requested to be excused as I was waiting for an extremely urgent call. Scribbling furiously on a pad has also worked for me ! Call me devious if you will but desperate times call for desperate measures! I have had to do all the above and more because there are some people in this world who have attempted to suck the energy out of me. Often, they have left me drained and extremely jaded. The look on their faces, the tone of their voice , the phrases they use and the remarks they pass are enough to make a soldier fall ill, a flower to wilt , a cat to refuse milk or a dog to ignore his bone- okay that may be a bit of an exaggeration and a trifle over the top but I am sure by now you get the drift . You may not believe, this but research has proven that it is their low vibrational emotions that can leave you feeling exhausted, irritated, frustrated, and if I may add - totally overwhelmed. These energy vampires are everywhere. They pop up at the least expected place and time and can ruin your day. You bump into them at the mall, suddenly see them outside church, at the cinema, at a party or God forbid in a plane – and that too in the seat beside you! Such people can be divided into two types – the exuberant and the sad. The exuberant will come up to you, bouncing and beaming with energy and here are some of the things they will say with ‘syrupy empathy’ if I may coin a phrase . “All well? You do not look too good. Anything I should know?” “You look pretty pulled down – you better get a check-up” “Don’t play the fool with your health – please go to the doctor” “You’ve lost a lot of weight Boss – I almost didn’t recognize you” “You’re looking so sad – what’s upsetting you” “You’re not your usual self today” As if that were not enough to make you feel ill and debilitated, they dissect parts of you – starting from the head and moving downwards. “What’s with your hair – no life at all in it / don’t tell me you are losing your hair” “Your eyes are so sunk in / you have dark circles under your eyes / the whites of your eyes have a yellowish tinge / you’re looking so sleepy and tired out” “Please don’t tell me you are coming down with Jaundice” “What’s with your skin- its so dry/ looking patchy / why the sallow look/ you look so pale” “Are you not eating well – you’re all skin and bones” “Your lips have turned so dark/ what is with the dry chapped lips- they are a sign of poor health” “Straighten your shoulders, you’re looking so old” “Is that a paunch I see – better get your BP checked”- not good for the heart” “All okay on the home front?’’ Then there are the self-pitying, melancholy, sombre souls, who seemingly carry the sorrows of the world on their shoulders. With them, the conversation if you can call it that, goes somewhat like this Me “So what’s happening”? They “nothing much – just feeling so depressed” Me “Why don’t you go out somewhere” They “Where to go- nothing exciting” Me at a get together, “Come on dance/ join in the games – it’s fun” They- “Our days are over- no more dancing and games for us” Me- “We are going to so and so place in the evening – Coming?” They – “Not sure / Let’s see how we feel/so much to do at home” You are also very likely to meet or be called upon to deal with, despondent individuals at the workplace as well. At times they use their well-known, dispirited nature, to their advantage, at times to play hooky as well. Always subdued, rather wistful and with a bleak outlook to life they are agonisingly slow in speech and manner & rather annoying in everything they say and do. Whining and complaining, they always make out that they are either the victim or the martyr and look for validation. Any project you ask them to lead or any team you ask them to join will be met with either a half-hearted yes coupled with a dozen reasons why the project might not work or a downright no – the reason often given “ its so difficult to get others to work” or “people don’t appreciate my ideas”. Mind you, it is not that these manipulative individuals are incompetent – they are just ineffective, melodramatic and at times even downright devious. On the other hand, I have a relative. Definitely my role model, he is young at heart , pragmatic, enthusiastic, energetic, entertaining and the life of any party. Happy go lucky & charming he is a happy individual - always brimming with positive energy. Ask him how the day is going or how life is treating him, and his characteristic answer is “SIMPLY MARVELLOUS’’ I guess it takes all types of people to make up the world!

St Joseph’s School and College – Allahabad At the very outset I must mention something – I am no historian – not by a mile - and I am certainly not writing a history of the school or any other place in Allahabad for that matter. These are just memories – mostly wonderful ones so read on …….. Yes, it is about St Joseph’s, Allahabad. It was and still is, one of the premier educational institutes in the city. I studied there from the Kindergarten till grade eight and then transferred to the Boy’s High School. Before you ask why, here is the reason – I failed in Hindi and rather than repeat the class I decided to change schools. (Not that I did any better in Hindi there but that is a different story altogether!) St Joseph’s is very close to my heart because not only did I study there, but my mother worked in the school office, as secretary to the Principal for several years and I am sure many of you will remember her - for some time she also dispensed simple medicines and looked after minor first aid ! I have two very vivid memories to begin the narrative. The first was while I was in Kindergarten, standing near the hedge beside the Principal’s office gate and bawling my heart out as I had lost my school bag . It was, in all probability, my first day in school. Fr Cyril George was the Principal. He was extremely genial, rather short and a trifle podgy. He came out of the office with my mother behind him and when he asked me why I was crying, I replied “I have lost my bag near Fr George’s hedge” You see that was where I had been told to wait for the rickshaw man to take me home, so I remembered the name & the place well – I did not however recognize Fr George ! The other, was when I was caught fighting behind the moveable black board – also in the KG class – incidentally my mother had come to the class to see how I was getting on! St Joseph’s had amazing buildings (still has and newer ones too) and the addition of the Junior wing with its massive hall built at that time added to the grandeur. I most definitely remember the four disciplinarians SJC employed over the years – the first was Mr Sullivan who I once got the cane from. He was a tall, wiry, balding man with a hooked nose. He seemed to have an office full of files and canes! Now thinking back, he resembled an eagle. He was incharge of the boarders – now thinking back I pity them . Another was a shortish, very fair, older gentleman – also extremely strict – Mr Carver . Then there was Mr Hendricus- darkish in complexion with silvery, wavy hair who also wielded the cane with aplomb. And the last was a tough guy- we heard he was ex-army - whose name I do not recollect but he was a terror and truly the devil incarnate ,if ever there was one! One morning, when I arrived at school at around eight – I was in grade 6 or 7 then – there was some sort of a commotion. The bell had just been rung and boys were running “helter skelter”. Charging around like a mad man and caning any and everyone in sight, was the new Disciplinarian. If you were one minute late you had better either avoid him or dig a hole and hide inside lest he catch you. For the few months he was in charge, the whole school was a like a monastery. I do not think he lasted very long. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he left. St Joseph’s always had great teachers – I cannot and will not name them all, but those that I interacted with or had an impression on me, I will. Mrs Doyle my first teacher – fair, tall and elegant I can picture her walking into class, teaching us and writing on the board . I got a pink report card at the end of the year from her – that meant I had done extremely well. Blue was the second best and a Red card meant you had failed! Mrs Macwan who was also in KG/ Primary was someone who I knew – she had light eyes and was very pretty. Miss Pen Anthony( I am sure that was her name ) taught me math in grade four and I was forced to go and study with in the afternoon( tuition ) – she often hit me with her umbrella for forgetting my tables .I just couldn’t memorize the sixteen times tables- poor me. ! She had large bulging eyes and was quite fat and I feared her for sure. Marina Dsouza was our class teacher in grade three – much kinder and sweet natured, we loved her. Mrs Shepherd taught Math as well and was great. Mrs Veronica Gomes taught me in grade five – also a terrific Math teacher (and now related to me) . Mrs McGowan in the junior school was a well-loved teacher and she served the school loyally for decades. Her son Aubrey – a friend of mine also worked there for over thirty years – I hear he is still there, as a senior administrator and of course there was Mrs French – also in the junior school and a family friend. Names like John Raphael,  an amazing guitarist, Benny Fernanded, Tony Jonathan,  Joe Rodericks and Mr Pandey also ring a bell.Ms Audrey Dcruz- nee Moore was another who I remember in the junior school – she never taught me but was there for many years thereafter and a good friend of my mother. Mr Happy Carver- we were under him in Grade six was quite a good looker and very sharp . Then there was Mr Joe Shankar – a jewel of a man and oh so kind. We went to him for tuition in Math early every morning during the summer vacation – no charges either! He was a bachelor & had an extremely untidy room. He loved reading, so there were plenty of newspapers and magazines strewn all over the room. However, Joe Shankar also had a cane and used it on those who did not complete their homework- he named it PERCY. Before caning anyone he always said the words “PERCY HAS NO MERCY”. Luckily, I never had the benefit of meeting good old Percy! Who can forget the awe inspiring and rather intimidating Mr Carl Dcruze ? He taught us Math in grade seven or eight – Tall and with a very straight back, the boys were quite scared of him, but he was a real master of the subject. Like Joe Shankar – once he taught you a concept, you never forgot it. Whenever he stood behind me and looked over my shoulder at me working out a sum,I would freeze. There was Mrs Daniels who taught us Geography and her husband taught (probably Math or Science ) in the senior school . Of course the senior school had many stalwarts who helped the boys bring accolades to the school , some of whom I must mention although they never taught me – They were the pillars of the school – Mr Trevor Bunting ( I did go to him one summer holiday for private tuition and he was excellent ) , Mr Francis Moore who went on to be the Anglo Indian MLA , Mrs Gandhi who taught English , & Mr Kazmi who was a tough gentleman but loved by the boys. Some boarders may also remember Mrs Bunting who was such a sweet lady- not sure if she was a matron in the boarding. Yes there was a boarding in SJC – I guess it closed down somewhere in the late 70’s or early 80’s . The dormitories were upstairs and a few of us would creep up at times just to have a look. When one thinks of St Joseph’s, the name of Fr Aloysius Rego the Headmaster pops into one’s mind before anyone else. Short, a billy goat beard (Billy Goat was his pet name too) , a cassock which was not very clean ( !) a master of the English Language and very strict – that’s how I remember him. Fr Rego as he was called, was also the editor of the Teenager – a monthly magazine we all bought. I still have his “Aids to English Composition” and over the years have often referred to them! There were five books in the series. Under his tutelage, the academics of the school was at an all-time high. He believed that the cane worked when all else failed – you can imagine the rest! Near the school main office there was a large drinking water tank, with about fifteen taps right around. Some were often broken, and no one bothered to replace them. As soon as the bell rang after the break, there was a mad rush to drink water, as everyone had been running wild in the sun – there was pushing and shoving galore and once, while drinking , someone pushed from behind, I banged my mouth on the tap and ended with a cut lip . During the summer months the water was hot and horrible to drink but there was no other alternative. The large school bell must surely have been as old as the school. I would often see senior boys, who had been put in charge, ringing it to signal the change of periods or the breaks. Often during the breaks some naughty and rather brave junior boys would ring the bell and run – something I wanted to attempt but never did. There were also two jungle gyms – one was square and high and the other just had two low bars on which you could swing. The high jungle gym was where we played – some of us were quite fast while moving, climbing, hanging out wards and avoiding being caught. We played with one boy attempting to catch the others and in teams as well – it built strength and agility - surprisingly, no one fell off. I am sure SJC boys would remember three games we played which were very popular. Steps, Marbles and another one on the soft mud with a divider or a compass- not sure what it was called. Steps was the most popular – as there were many steps all over the campus,one could see groups of boys deeply engrossed in this game. Climbing up and down the steps while bouncing the ball was the intention. It also required good aim and the ability to catch the ball well. Rushing to “bag” steps to play on was key to enjoying a good lunch break and if one possessed a Tennis ball – all the better, as rubber balls did not bounce as well as the tennis ones did. Marbles was something I was crazy about – and walking around jangling the marbles in the pocket was quite a craze. On a few occasions, monitors confiscated the marbles for no apparent reason. The last game was some sort of a land acquisition! A rough world map was drawn in the soft mud and then you threw the divider or compass from about six feet away and sort of WON or ACQUIRED LAND for yourself depending on where your divider or compass pierced the mud . You then put your initials in that area .Quite a nice game! And yes, once again I remember monitors rushing in and grabbing hundreds of the playing instruments away from us. No clue as to what they did with them after that. We sure cursed them as soon as that happened. Sports days were big occasions – I was no sportsman and was only in the march past and PE display . However, the race that drew the most cheering was the cycle race where three brothers named O’Connor usually won most of the prizes as they had a good racing cycle between them. The Wilma brothers were all outstanding sportsmen and somehow the name rings a bell – great boxers too. In fact, most of the boarders were great sportsmen. One sports day stands out – while doing gymnastics which was one of the highlights, a boy by the name of Akhil ( Was that the name? ) vaulted over the horse , fell awkwardly and was seriously injured . He was the son of a contractor . No sports day was complete without the school brass band – the drummers , the bugle players and the boy playing the cymbals always received a thunderous applause as they came on to the field . Dressed in white with red stripes down the side of their trousers , they looked smart . Some would remember the following incident for sure – the Allahabad university boys went on a flash strike – all of a sudden hundreds of university boys charged into school after jumping over the wall near the Alfred Park side – smashed a few windows, threw stones and demanded that the school close immediately .Yes the police came charging in behind them and chased them away. We then had a holiday. We also had rainy day holidays – unforgettable and longed for! You came halfway to school and you saw boys going home shouting ‘’ Rainy Day”. Who does not remember crossing the field and going to buy snacks from vendors across the wall – crushed ice with sweet coloured syrup on it , freshly squeezed sugar cane juice, guavas which were cut into four with a rusted knife and black salt applied , plums , some of which were hard while the others quite gooey and the tasty “churan” were all so lovely . While some of this ‘’churan” was sweet and made with crushed fruit seeds etc , there was one very acidic type, on which , if asked and paid extra for, you could get more acid poured . It stung the mouth and left the tongue feeling sore – yet we purchased it often. I could go on – I have realized that when you sit and just think, the memories come flooding back and it seems almost like yesterday. Try it and surprise yourself! St Joseph’s has, over the years, produced gentlemen of the highest calibre- Businessmen , judges, lawyers, teachers, professors , musicians , shop keepers , CEO’s , Doctors , priests , men in the forces – you name it and a SJC boy is there – leading from the front The motto, “Semper Sursum” which translates to EVER ONWARD says it all. God bless all those who passed out from the portals of this amazing institution – our school - St Joseph’s, Allahabad.

St Joseph’s School and College – Allahabad At the very outset I must mention something – I am no historian – not by a mile - and I am certainly not writing a history of the school or any other place in Allahabad for that matter. These are just memories – mostly wonderful ones so read on …….. Yes, it is about St Joseph’s, Allahabad. It was and still is, one of the premier educational institutes in the city. I studied there from the Kindergarten till grade eight and then transferred to the Boy’s High School. Before you ask why, here is the reason – I failed in Hindi and rather than repeat the class I decided to change schools. (Not that I did any better in Hindi there but that is a different story altogether!) St Joseph’s is very close to my heart because not only did I study there, but my mother worked in the school office, as secretary to the Principal for several years and I am sure many of you will remember her - for some time she also dispensed simple medicines and looked after minor first aid ! I have two very vivid memories to begin the narrative. The first was while I was in Kindergarten, standing near the hedge beside the Principal’s office gate and bawling my heart out as I had lost my school bag . It was, in all probability, my first day in school. Fr Cyril George was the Principal. He was extremely genial, rather short and a trifle podgy. He came out of the office with my mother behind him and when he asked me why I was crying, I replied “I have lost my bag near Fr George’s hedge” You see that was where I had been told to wait for the rickshaw man to take me home, so I remembered the name & the place well – I did not however recognize Fr George ! The other, was when I was caught fighting behind the moveable black board – also in the KG class – incidentally my mother had come to the class to see how I was getting on! St Joseph’s had amazing buildings (still has and newer ones too) and the addition of the Junior wing with its massive hall built at that time added to the grandeur. I most definitely remember the four disciplinarians SJC employed over the years – the first was Mr Sullivan who I once got the cane from. He was a tall, wiry, balding man with a hooked nose. He seemed to have an office full of files and canes! Now thinking back, he resembled an eagle. He was incharge of the boarders – now thinking back I pity them . Another was a shortish, very fair, older gentleman – also extremely strict – Mr Carver . Then there was Mr Hendricus- darkish in complexion with silvery, wavy hair who also wielded the cane with aplomb. And the last was a tough guy- we heard he was ex-army - whose name I do not recollect but he was a terror and truly the devil incarnate ,if ever there was one! One morning, when I arrived at school at around eight – I was in grade 6 or 7 then – there was some sort of a commotion. The bell had just been rung and boys were running “helter skelter”. Charging around like a mad man and caning any and everyone in sight, was the new Disciplinarian. If you were one minute late you had better either avoid him or dig a hole and hide inside lest he catch you. For the few months he was in charge, the whole school was a like a monastery. I do not think he lasted very long. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he left. St Joseph’s always had great teachers – I cannot and will not name them all, but those that I interacted with or had an impression on me, I will. Mrs Doyle my first teacher – fair, tall and elegant I can picture her walking into class, teaching us and writing on the board . I got a pink report card at the end of the year from her – that meant I had done extremely well. Blue was the second best and a Red card meant you had failed! Mrs Macwan who was also in KG/ Primary was someone who I knew – she had light eyes and was very pretty. Miss Pen Anthony( I am sure that was her name ) taught me math in grade four and I was forced to go and study with in the afternoon( tuition ) – she often hit me with her umbrella for forgetting my tables .I just couldn’t memorize the sixteen times tables- poor me. ! She had large bulging eyes and was quite fat and I feared her for sure. Marina Dsouza was our class teacher in grade three – much kinder and sweet natured, we loved her. Mrs Shepherd taught Math as well and was great. Mrs Veronica Gomes taught me in grade five – also a terrific Math teacher (and now related to me) . Mrs McGowan in the junior school was a well-loved teacher and she served the school loyally for decades. Her son Aubrey – a friend of mine also worked there for over thirty years – I hear he is still there, as a senior administrator and of course there was Mrs French – also in the junior school and a family friend. Names like John Raphael,  an amazing guitarist, Benny Fernanded, Tony Jonathan,  Joe Rodericks and Mr Pandey also ring a bell.Ms Audrey Dcruz- nee Moore was another who I remember in the junior school – she never taught me but was there for many years thereafter and a good friend of my mother. Mr Happy Carver- we were under him in Grade six was quite a good looker and very sharp . Then there was Mr Joe Shankar – a jewel of a man and oh so kind. We went to him for tuition in Math early every morning during the summer vacation – no charges either! He was a bachelor & had an extremely untidy room. He loved reading, so there were plenty of newspapers and magazines strewn all over the room. However, Joe Shankar also had a cane and used it on those who did not complete their homework- he named it PERCY. Before caning anyone he always said the words “PERCY HAS NO MERCY”. Luckily, I never had the benefit of meeting good old Percy! Who can forget the awe inspiring and rather intimidating Mr Carl Dcruze ? He taught us Math in grade seven or eight – Tall and with a very straight back, the boys were quite scared of him, but he was a real master of the subject. Like Joe Shankar – once he taught you a concept, you never forgot it. Whenever he stood behind me and looked over my shoulder at me working out a sum,I would freeze. There was Mrs Daniels who taught us Geography and her husband taught (probably Math or Science ) in the senior school . Of course the senior school had many stalwarts who helped the boys bring accolades to the school , some of whom I must mention although they never taught me – They were the pillars of the school – Mr Trevor Bunting ( I did go to him one summer holiday for private tuition and he was excellent ) , Mr Francis Moore who went on to be the Anglo Indian MLA , Mrs Gandhi who taught English , & Mr Kazmi who was a tough gentleman but loved by the boys. Some boarders may also remember Mrs Bunting who was such a sweet lady- not sure if she was a matron in the boarding. Yes there was a boarding in SJC – I guess it closed down somewhere in the late 70’s or early 80’s . The dormitories were upstairs and a few of us would creep up at times just to have a look. When one thinks of St Joseph’s, the name of Fr Aloysius Rego the Headmaster pops into one’s mind before anyone else. Short, a billy goat beard (Billy Goat was his pet name too) , a cassock which was not very clean ( !) a master of the English Language and very strict – that’s how I remember him. Fr Rego as he was called, was also the editor of the Teenager – a monthly magazine we all bought. I still have his “Aids to English Composition” and over the years have often referred to them! There were five books in the series. Under his tutelage, the academics of the school was at an all-time high. He believed that the cane worked when all else failed – you can imagine the rest! Near the school main office there was a large drinking water tank, with about fifteen taps right around. Some were often broken, and no one bothered to replace them. As soon as the bell rang after the break, there was a mad rush to drink water, as everyone had been running wild in the sun – there was pushing and shoving galore and once, while drinking , someone pushed from behind, I banged my mouth on the tap and ended with a cut lip . During the summer months the water was hot and horrible to drink but there was no other alternative. The large school bell must surely have been as old as the school. I would often see senior boys, who had been put in charge, ringing it to signal the change of periods or the breaks. Often during the breaks some naughty and rather brave junior boys would ring the bell and run – something I wanted to attempt but never did. There were also two jungle gyms – one was square and high and the other just had two low bars on which you could swing. The high jungle gym was where we played – some of us were quite fast while moving, climbing, hanging out wards and avoiding being caught. We played with one boy attempting to catch the others and in teams as well – it built strength and agility - surprisingly, no one fell off. I am sure SJC boys would remember three games we played which were very popular. Steps, Marbles and another one on the soft mud with a divider or a compass- not sure what it was called. Steps was the most popular – as there were many steps all over the campus,one could see groups of boys deeply engrossed in this game. Climbing up and down the steps while bouncing the ball was the intention. It also required good aim and the ability to catch the ball well. Rushing to “bag” steps to play on was key to enjoying a good lunch break and if one possessed a Tennis ball – all the better, as rubber balls did not bounce as well as the tennis ones did. Marbles was something I was crazy about – and walking around jangling the marbles in the pocket was quite a craze. On a few occasions, monitors confiscated the marbles for no apparent reason. The last game was some sort of a land acquisition! A rough world map was drawn in the soft mud and then you threw the divider or compass from about six feet away and sort of WON or ACQUIRED LAND for yourself depending on where your divider or compass pierced the mud . You then put your initials in that area .Quite a nice game! And yes, once again I remember monitors rushing in and grabbing hundreds of the playing instruments away from us. No clue as to what they did with them after that. We sure cursed them as soon as that happened. Sports days were big occasions – I was no sportsman and was only in the march past and PE display . However, the race that drew the most cheering was the cycle race where three brothers named O’Connor usually won most of the prizes as they had a good racing cycle between them. The Wilma brothers were all outstanding sportsmen and somehow the name rings a bell – great boxers too. In fact, most of the boarders were great sportsmen. One sports day stands out – while doing gymnastics which was one of the highlights, a boy by the name of Akhil ( Was that the name? ) vaulted over the horse , fell awkwardly and was seriously injured . He was the son of a contractor . No sports day was complete without the school brass band – the drummers , the bugle players and the boy playing the cymbals always received a thunderous applause as they came on to the field . Dressed in white with red stripes down the side of their trousers , they looked smart . Some would remember the following incident for sure – the Allahabad university boys went on a flash strike – all of a sudden hundreds of university boys charged into school after jumping over the wall near the Alfred Park side – smashed a few windows, threw stones and demanded that the school close immediately .Yes the police came charging in behind them and chased them away. We then had a holiday. We also had rainy day holidays – unforgettable and longed for! You came halfway to school and you saw boys going home shouting ‘’ Rainy Day”. Who does not remember crossing the field and going to buy snacks from vendors across the wall – crushed ice with sweet coloured syrup on it , freshly squeezed sugar cane juice, guavas which were cut into four with a rusted knife and black salt applied , plums , some of which were hard while the others quite gooey and the tasty “churan” were all so lovely . While some of this ‘’churan” was sweet and made with crushed fruit seeds etc , there was one very acidic type, on which , if asked and paid extra for, you could get more acid poured . It stung the mouth and left the tongue feeling sore – yet we purchased it often. I could go on – I have realized that when you sit and just think, the memories come flooding back and it seems almost like yesterday. Try it and surprise yourself! St Joseph’s has, over the years, produced gentlemen of the highest calibre- Businessmen , judges, lawyers, teachers, professors , musicians , shop keepers , CEO’s , Doctors , priests , men in the forces – you name it and a SJC boy is there – leading from the front The motto, “Semper Sursum” which translates to EVER ONWARD says it all. God bless all those who passed out from the portals of this amazing institution – our school - St Joseph’s, Allahabad.

Shopping in Allahabad

As a kid (read under ten years old) I enjoyed going shopping with my mother and aunt in Allahabad. We went by cycle rickshaw with me perched on one of their laps. My job was to hold the empty shopping bags and make sure I did not “dream” and leave them anywhere. Incidentally, we had a rickshaw man named Jumman who lived near bye so that helped. As items were bought, they were handed over to Jumman to put in the rickshaw and keep watch. He followed us faithfully from shop to shop. Looking back, there were two main shopping areas - The Civil Lines on Canning Road - later Mahatma Gandhi Marg was the sort of upmarket area & the other was the bigger market known as “Chowk”. There was another busy market called “Katra” but we never went there for some obscure reason. Katra and chowk were on opposite sides of the city. I was rarely taken to Chowk but on the few occasions I was, it thrilled and confused me .I was also a trifle perturbed about getting lost or left behind as I had no clue how to get home . We usually set out for the market just after lunch. Chowk was dirty, dusty, very congested and a trifle smelly. Various odors pervaded the atmosphere, and some were downright nauseating. Heaps of garbage were strewn all over - some of it rotting. Strangely I often saw people carrying garbage till the dump and then throwing it on the road. The roads themselves were narrow and filled with potholes – there were overflowing drains as well. Cars, scooters, cyclists, motor bikes, rickshaws , ekkas, tongas , trucks, vans and even large roadways buses all fought for right of way & to move forward . Everyone was obviously going somewhere, and everyone was in a tearing hurry. The noise of the vehicles was bad enough and then with everyone hooting and sounding their horns it was enough to wake the dead. Despite all the flies and the filth, roadside food stalls and juice vendors plied their trade with gusto & did a roaring business. I vaguely remember trying my luck, by once asking for a glass of sugar cane juice. I was told point blank that I would get cholera or typhoid. My argument that others were having it was countered with – “they have guts of steel” or “their parents are not bothered about them ‘’ I never asked again. Most of the roads had no partitions or dividers and so you could travel in any direction you so desired - you were also permitted to park anywhere , do a U turn , and even stop and chat with someone coming in the opposite direction . This was definitely not permitted but no one checked anyone and so I guess that was the crux of the problem. I did see the odd traffic police man in his white uniform and some others in khaki but they were invariably busy trying to coerce some poor soul to bribe them for some minor traffic offence or the other - quite a paradox if you ask me ! To add to the general pandemonium, there were dogs, goats, buffaloes, and cows moving around, butting people and frightening others who often either drove into ditches beside the road or were forced to jump over mucky drains, to avoid them. The cows and buffaloes often squatted in the middle of the road and dozed off or just sat chewing the cud while glancing nonchalantly around - this usually happened at the busiest areas as if they knew the chaos they would cause and then all the traffic had to maneuver round them. There were accidents galore and those led to arguments, threats and fights . To top all that, Chowk seemed to be a paradise for "paan chewers". Not only did they enjoy the best varieties of paan available but they spat the betel juice all over - on the walls , on the road, on to passing vehicles , out of windows of houses and vehicles and if one was not lucky then you could be spat on as well - in general it was a free for all – let’s all be happy kind of atmosphere! Most of the shop keepers lived in houses above their shops. I often wondered what those dilapidated houses were like from the inside. From outside they looked as if they were about to collapse any moment - had not seen a coat of paint for decades and were probably extremely old. Clothes put out to dry on lines of plastic rope , mops, brooms , long poles, broken old furniture , birds cages etc. were all visible on the minuscule balconies - at times you would see someone's toothless grandmother or grandfather sunning themselves or just standing and surveying the scene - some would smile and wave when I looked up. Mind you, I am sure that a number of these were well to do individuals so please don’t get me wrong. That was just their lifestyle and they seemed to enjoy it . Each area of chowk sold different items – so you had the utensils, brass ware, electrical goods, cloth, readymade garments , sarees, Knick knacks , toys , wood and carpentry items, paint shops etc . Then there was another area called ‘’Lok Nath’’ where one purchased all sorts of pickles, dried fruit and other eatables. We always came here, especially before Christmas to purchase items to put in the Christmas cakes. Tasting before purchasing was what everyone did and I loved tasting an item called Petha ! What struck me as strange was when my mother or aunt would ask the shopkeeper if the item, they were buying was fresh! I never heard anyone reply in the negative. In fact, that is my pet peeve when I go out shopping with anyone even today. Asking a vegetable vendor or a man selling meat or fish whether the items he is selling are fresh is so silly and quite unnecessary. For that matter asking a man selling shoes if the shoes will last is as funny. Anyway, we would return around six pm. I always believed that if we returned after sunset we would be mugged or attacked by goons or whatever. Not sure where these ridiculous ideas entered my head from but they were there ! On the other hand, going to Civil Lines was easy, less stressful and I knew my way back! Everything was in a square. The roads were wider, they had no potholes and there were pavements to walk on. Large trees provided sufficient shade . Above all it was clean, there was plenty of parking for those who had cars and the clientele was better. Those who chewed pan visited Civil lines as well but they spat the betel juice in the corners of corridors and roads and were a little more careful. And oh yes , the cows – they were there as well ! Nevertheless, although the Civil Lines was walking distance from our house in the Railway quarters , we never walked but went by rickshaw – now it need not be “our regular man” as we paid the guy off as soon as we reached the first shop and then strolled around – this was usually on a Saturday morning . I guess we humans are creatures of habit and so we invariably visited the same shops and often in the same order. So, it was Ladies Corner to start with – powder, make up, biscuits, gift items etc. were always purchased here. I would hover round the jars with sweets and the kind shopkeeper would always ask me which one I wanted and then give me two! Then we would buy two hundred and fifty grams of butter scotch paper sweets – I love them even now . Across the road, on the other side was a shop called Boxman – so it was buttons, needles, thread, ribbons, clips, pins, combs etc from there. If shoes were needed it was always Fitwell. The owner was a very jolly man and he talked nonstop. From a little square opening in the ceiling, boxes of shoes were thrown down and those below held them without even looking up – it was all one fluid motion and I was often bewildered at their dexterity. The shoes for school boys back then had very round toes and If I remember correctly they were referred to as Ball tossers ! What a vague name! At times I would run around the corner to Bata shoe shop to see the shoes there, but old Fitwell was such a glib talker that by the time I got back he had packed the shoes , thrown in an extra pair of laces, or a tin of polish for good measure and the payment had already been made . So much for choice. There were two other shoe shops – both owned by Chinese – Wanson and Fookson. For Christmas many people flocked to those two shops & I got my Christmas shoes from there too . They were definitely more fashionable! . Fooksons was then bought over by Chopra Shoes and I became a regular there. Mr Chopra was a great salesman too, so he attracted a lot of regular customers. Occasionally, we picked up some sweets from Lucky Sweet mart – a Bengali owner - great tasting sweets and savories. They also sold creamy cold lassi and sweet curd – both were in high demand. For Medicines it was always Kohinoor Chemist – there were two gents at the counter there One was a Parsee Gentleman called Nanavati and the other was a Mr Tandon. Mr Nanavati loved to talk and crack jokes and I found him quite funny. He would often ruffle my hair & was one of those who would always say I looked thin and then proceed to sell us a bottle or two of Feradol! Apparently it would fatten me up- it never did ! I do remember some other shops as well – B N Rama was a big, posh shop at the corner near Fitwell – I am not sure what we bought there – a gift or two for sure at times – but every time I passed by I inserted a coin in the weighing machine at the entrance . I was a feather weight for years. There were two brothers – one ran B N Rama and the other El Chico. They were the Roy brothers. Who can forget Universal book stall where we got our books from – it was a very congested shop but any book one needed was available. Another of my favourites was a Pen store at the entrance to that same compound. I do not recollect the name but do remember being a regular to that shop to buy Pens, pencils and rubbers, chart paper and even my first China pen & Geometry set ! Scented rubbers were a craze and I bought quite a few. Then there was Samsons for readymade garments – we always went there – bush shirts , vests, underwear, socks , thermal wear etc – he had the best and was very reasonable .Close to Samson and on the same side of the road was Flashlight the Photographer . In those days there were no mobile phones in any case – not sure whether James Bond had one back then either. Flashlight was always in demand to develop the film rolls – some rolls had just eight photos and some twelve – out of those, one or two were invariably spoilt . You got the negatives as well in case you needed copies later. I must not forget Beni Prasad – that was a shop like no other. A large shop with shelves upon shelves of items – all rather untidy and overflowing. There were goods all over – on the floor and on the counters as well and nothing seemed to be sorted or labeled. It was one untidy mess. Even the large fans had seen better days and they looked tired- quite like the owner. However, jokes aside, it must be noted that if you could not procure an item anywhere in Civil Lines- Beni Prasad had it . He did not specialize in any particular item but had everything under the sun. He would shout out the order to one of his workers and miraculously, what you had ordered would appear within the minute. If it were a rare item, it would be covered in dust, but he would wipe it and hand it to you, beaming. At Beni’s, unlike in other shops, you could try and beat him down for the price and indulge in a little bargaining. He did not seem to mind. I was usually told to pick up an item or two from Beni after I had a hair cut at the barber near by ( in the Palace Cinema building . He was called Bulaki (I hope I got the name and location right) . El Chico was the most sought-after and up market restaurant in Civil Lines, and we did not go there very often as it was costly. However, we did go once or twice on special occasions. The ambience, the food and whole atmosphere was a wonderful experience. I vividly remember that my mother loved the pastries and so pastries were often purchased for tea from there. I often went to St Paul’s book stall when I was a little older to purchase Holy Pictures – I had a collection of them and spent the little pocket money I received on adding to my collection every month. Sehgal stores was also a well-known grocery store and the shop was always well stocked. I cannot end without mentioning two shops - the barber I patronized as a teen and even later – He was called Up To Date. A friend introduced me to him, and he was my barber for years. I remember he had Leukoderma on his face, but he was a lovely man and we chatted a lot. The other was GUZDERS ICE CREAM- this large ice cream parlour cum Departmental store was owned by the family for years. I remember being taken there on many an evening and we sat out in the spacious lawn and were served by bearers in spotlessly white uniforms and fancy head gear .The funny thing was that I suffered with Tonsillitis and so could not enjoy the different varieties of ice cream ! I often had pastries! I have tried not to digress, but Allahabad has wonderful memories for me.