Tuesday, August 12, 2014

cmc 2014 alumni reunion batch of 1969

It was our 45th reunion (batch of 69 CMC Vellore). This meant that even if you joined college at the tender age of 16 you were still a senior citizen over the age of 61! The men looked very different. Hair gone forever or pepper  grey. Women looked much the same.
“Huh!” Said a male classmate, “it is just the quality of the hair dye---. “
It was a challenge to produce an entertainment on stage that could be done by the oldies and appreciated by youngsters---something memorable!
I started work in Jan 2014 and sent out a few tentative feelers.
“We can do “lungi dance” follow it up with “Simon says” and exit with “limbo rock”
“I can’t do that” wailed a few. “We don’t know the steps.”
“That is okay, I will send you the links to the videos”.
A mistake.
One look at the video and three people developed “other pressing engagements.”
“We will come for the reunion to Mahabs on thursday, not back to Vellore.” 
We met in Mahabs,  where present in the spirit and in the flesh, we attempted a rehearsal.
Six more left for home.
Finally in depleted numbers, we headed to Vellore.
We needed an impact, otherwise, we oldies would just be “another batch.”
I hit upon the idea of having my gymnast grandson begin the performance with back flips and summersaults across an empty stage.
I like to think we put up a memorable performance. We even had a “rap.”
Goodbye till 2019 then. I have my eye and ear on Michael Jackson----, so check out the videos on youtube.


Sunday, August 3, 2014

this is India

Yuvraj first came to me s a three year old, a plump inactive toddler with a penchant for putting everything in his mouth. He had a favorite toy an autorickshaw (tuk tuk) which he wheeled on the floor.
“I want to enroll him in --- school, ” the mother proudly announced. “We have the money. My husband has a job in Dubai.”
I did not want to discourage her, but, ”That school has  a tough syllabus, ISCE, they want the parents to be graduates. You don’t want to stress him”.
She did not speak a word of English. She had studied upto 5th grade. The boy would really find the going tough.
She announced proudly, “ everything has a price. I paid money in the office. “ She winked at me. “He will get in.”
She paid money and she sent a surrogate to pose as the mother. A lady she hired for a price. A MA in history. Women in Tamil Nadu only put an initial before their name. There is no last name. The school asks for a birth certificate. They  do not ask the lady accompanying the child for proof of ID!
He had difficulties in Preschool itself. He sat in a corner eating every bit of paper he could lay his hands on. He did not socialize or respond. At the parent teacher meetings the real mother was now posing as  the aunt and  the surrogate the real one (for a price)! Life was becoming complicated.
The government made a rule that  no child  was to be detained till eight grade. He could not read, write, add or even sing the songs taught in class.
The school made desperate pleas,
“Perhaps he would like to stay back in prechool? He will make new friends. Perhaps you would like to transfer him to another school? “
She was adamant. He now had after school tuitions from his class teacher, and later at home from the surrogate. He had no playtime and no physical activity.
He cruised along till 8th grade. Then he failed in every subject and was asked to leave.
“ I want to file a case against the school. I have money. They are victimizing my son.”
He listened to her silently. He still had the tuk tuk.
Finally I said, "be reasonable and listen to me!"
I sent him for an IQ evaluation where he was pronounced borderline with some learning disability.
The mother finally headed my pleas and switched schools.
He passed his tenth, “cost me 3 lakhs,” said the mother proudly. I bought the marks.”
“Please put  him in the polytechnic,” I said, ”let him learn a skill. It was one of the few times I heard him speak. “Can I learn driving?”
“That is not a subject, but you can learn it privately when you are eighteen.”
I saw him a week later (very underage), minus a crash helmet driving a high powered bike on the main road. I tried to reason with the mother, but the only answer was ,”I have money!”
She paid for him to pass 12th and then capitation for engineering.
At the end of the course (4 1/2years) they came again.
“My  money is not working. He has 28 arrears. “
I think there were only 28 papers in the course!
“We have to think of what to do,” I said, “ maybe he can clear them two at a time?”
“That will take him 7 years to get the  degree,” wailed the mother. “He will be thirty by then. Who will marry him?”
That seemed to be the least of the problem. Personally I did not think he would ever clear the papers  at all.
“What would you like to do? “I asked him.
He opened his mouth for the second time in all the years I had known him, ”I want to be an auto driver. Ask her to buy me a real auto. That’s all I have ever wanted to do.”

Dr. Gita Mathai
The writer is a paediatrician with a family practice at Vellore.
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