– Suresh Subrahmanyan is a Bengaluru-based former advertising professional

I have had occasion in the past to share my thoughts pertaining to the challenges one faces getting rid over time, of various objects from home and hearth. Notably books, music cassettes, spool tapes and LPs that are of no use given the rapid advancement of music technology. After much soul searching and emotional contortion, most things are carefully put back where they have lain. Perhaps the one category that one finds most heart-rending to consign to the rubbish heap are old, handwritten letters.

Many of these letters can safely be dispensed with because they are unlikely to enhance anybody’s reading pleasure once you have departed. However, one bunch, carefully preserved and tied with a thick brown twine by my father, contained a series of letters written by me and my brother to him from boarding school. Of the bunch I, I have picked three which are representative of that period. Bear in mind that these letters were written when I was 10-15 years old.

My dear Appa,                                   July 10, 1960

How are you and Amma? I am doing fine. Boarding school life is not too bad. Everybody complains about the grub, but you get used to it. The Pantry Sergeant, his name, believe it or not, is Mr. Rice and he decides what we get for breakfast, lunch and dinner. My being a vegetarian is making me the laughing stock with many of the boys. Even one of my teachers, mockingly calls me ‘grass eater’! So, I decided to try an omelette stuffed with plenty of onions and chillies. It tasted a bit like masala dosa but I quite enjoyed it. Don’t tell Amma about my eating omelette or she will immediately have a bath and sit in the puja room for an hour.

We boarders have to attend chapel service every evening. Don’t worry, nobody is trying to convert us and again, don’t show this to Amma or she will throw a fit.

Till next week then.

Yours lovingly,

Suresh.

My dear Appa,                                  Undated 1960

How are you and Amma? Ramesh and I are doing fine. Daily classes are quite boring. I am enjoying the English language periods but Maths is hell, particularly Geometry. Our class master asked us to treat riders like solving puzzles. I just found riders puzzling.

Today, I started playing hockey for the first time. It’s a bit like football, only instead of feet and head, we use hockey sticks. The first day I played was a disaster.

There is a foul called ‘sticks,’ which means you are not allowed to raise your hockey stick above shoulder height when you hit the ball. Not knowing this, I took an almighty wind-up swing way above my shoulder and behind me, Ashok caught my stick on the downswing plumb on his mouth. He broke three of his front teeth, bled a lot and was taken to sickroom needing several stitches. I had to apologise to him. He said something nasty through his gap teeth. I was suspended for three games after that and sent to detention class. I think hockey is a lousy game though India has won some gold medals in the Olympics.

I had some cutlets and two cucumber sandwiches for dinner last evening. Next to me was a chap tucking into beef steak. Please don’t tell Amma about this or she will again rush to have another bath and sit in the puja room for two hours.

Yours lovingly,

Suresh.

My dear Appa,                           September 12, 1961

There are a bunch of senior boys called Prefects. All they seem to do is strut around bullying the junior boys. ‘Walk straight, don’t slouch,’ ‘Take your hands out of your pockets,’ ‘Who the hell do they think they are?’ One day I too will become a Prefect and give the same treatment to my juniors.

I was selected to sing in the school choir. I am what they call an A singer. The music teacher asked me what song I knew. I started singing a Varnam in raga Mohanam, which Amma had taught me. After a minute, he asked me to shut up.

Today is St. Peter’s Day. We get special food through the day. For lunch, Mr. Rice asked us vegetarians to try fish and chips. ‘You will like it.’ Anyway, I quite liked it with mayonnaise. Please don’t tell Amma about this fishy stuff. She will take two baths and lock herself up in the puja room the whole day and you might have to starve.

That’s all for now.

Yours lovingly,

Suresh.

Footnote: One of the letters records my maternal grandmother, Paati’s surprise visit to our school, escorted by our local guardians. Paati was like the biblical Methuselah! I don’t know why, but our senior matron hollered at us to ‘Come and say hello to Granny.’ All Paati wanted to know was if we are getting enough to eat!