Pervin will kill me for this.

Innocent and earnest Foley House Captain 1980-81 who unwittingly gave an evil friend one of her passport photos as a souvenir.

Twenty years on .. Miss Suares - Epilogue (Part Five)

After writing that last post, I've been getting into Sentimental-Weep-Mode .. and I made a little phone call to Miss Suares to see how she was. She told me that there's been nothing but talk of our little visit, all morning. Even the maid and cook were all agog (plus quite fascinated by the sudden appearance of "Gladys" with her red nose, funny voice and of course, the bubbles!)

Miss Suares has read through all your letters and said it was so wonderful to reminisce and visualise all the girls who sent the letters - she remembers you all.

"It makes you feel .. " here she paused, ".. different."

What made it extra special for her, she said, was seeing that not all the girls who came or wrote were active in sports. She hadn't thought that she meant anything more than a sports teacher. I think that, reading what we had written, how we had held on to her words all these years - eyes front, hold those heads high, backs straight, lift those feet - made her see that she had done more than train champions and coach teams - she had influenced the lives not just of girls but the women we've become. I think she knows now that she was more than she thought she was.

She also said that now, her own words were coming back to her at a time when she needed it, to give her the inspiration and motivation to keep going. That's a nice harvest, don't you agree?

I think now she does understand what she was, and is, for Cottons. I do wish my poor Professor Snape could have had what we gave Miss Suares yesterday.

Twenty years on .. Miss Suares and One Final Hogwartian Analogy (Part Four)

(Any Harry Potter fans who haven't yet read The Deathly Hallows? This post contains spoilers!)

With all the Harry Potteresque echoes to this whole Facebook revival, how could I resist not taking it further? And I love analogies, as anyone who's had the (mis)fortune to witness me once get going on my philosophical meanderings will confirm.

We have our own version of Platform 9 and 3/4's. We have our house rivalries and our midnight escapades. We are Cottons Girls and the rest of the world, poor dears, are Muggles.

Two incidents from yesterday's visit to Miss Suares stay with me, and give rise to this One Final Hogwartian Analogy, as yet unrevealed:

She told us a story about how, when a chief guest was with the then-principal Miss Hardy (this must have been in the 50s or 60s) in the auditorium (not the new one - the original hall which allegedly had a secret tunnel under the stage that led to the boys' school!!). The girls were, of course, making a racket, but suddenly fell silent.

"What happened?" the chief guest asked, for the change was drastic. Miss Hardy smiled and pointed out to him that Miss Suares had just entered the room.

Fear? Maybe. But respect too. There was something about Miss Suares, a presence she had that absolutely no other teacher was ever able to match. At one point, during the telling of these stories, she clasped her hands together and said, "I always thought, oh God, these girls must HATE me .. "

That's when it struck me. A little voice in my head whispered, "Good Lord .. Miss Suares is Professor Snape .. "

Now those of you who aren't fully into the Harry Potter books, or who perhaps haven't read all the way to the end, may think this is a horrible thing to say, because for quite a while there, JK Rowling made us think he was the villain of the story.

But those of you who DO know the whole story - and who also know of my utter devoted worship of Professor Snape - will understand that this is the greatest compliment I could pay anyone, and not a statement I would make lightly.

So who was Professor Snape? A hard, determined man with rather an iron-fisted attitude to his students - striking terror into Neville Longbottoms everywhere. An ex-student turned teacher, brilliant at what he did, bitter perhaps, but keeping his pains secret. Loyal, so loyal to Dumbledore and what Hogwarts stood for, at the cost of taking lives, and of giving his own too. Harry Potter hated him and feared him and misunderstood him. Right until the end. It's only in the Epilogue that we found, and wept over, Harry's recognition of Snape for what he was: Harry had named his son after Snape.

To me, that was too little, too late. So when I look at our get-together with Miss Suares yesterday, I like to think that we did more for her than JK Rowling did for Snape in that last paragraph of her book. Snape died never knowing whether his true colours were ever appreciated. I'm so glad to all of you who contributed to this reunion with your time, your letters, your phone calls and email forwards and your presence there yesterday. You made for a better happy ending than Rowling could ever write.

Twenty years on .. Miss Suares and The First Kiss (Part Three)

Ok now, don't go getting any funny ideas. Those of you who've visited my blog (Art Earth Ink Soul .. and if you haven't visited it yet, you must!) will remember my recent visit to see Mrs. Seshadri - where I'd written about The First Cup of Coffee - that Seshu had made for me personally (it's these little milestones of life that keep me smiling!) and so it seemed only apt that I make a separate entry for this new milestone: my first kiss and hug from Miss Suares!

If anyone reading this doesn't know Miss Suares, they won't understand the significance of this. But most of you reading this are her ex-students, and you will understand.

Miss Suares, tall, daunting, awe-inspiring - able to silence an entire auditorium just by entering it - none of us would have dared to give her a hug and kiss back in those days! So it was delightful to be welcomed with open arms and a warm hug and kiss on the cheek when we walked in to her home to visit her yesterday!

We also got The Second Kiss when we were leaving. After I kissed her goodbye, she put her hands up to her cheeks, an odd expression on her face. "Oh dear," I thought. "She can smell the cigarettes on my breath."

But no.

"Steady," I heard her murmur softly to herself. Miss Suares, indomitable as ever, held her tears back, and saw us out with a glorious smile.


to be continued ..

Twenty years on .. Miss Suares and The Order of Facebook (Part Two)

Left to right: NK Nandini (batch of 1981), Nazu Tonse (1981) Nalini Manasseh (1969), Supriya Hegde (1980), Marjorie Suares (1942), Heera Nawaz (1975) Hazel Suares (1940s), Edna Benn (1951)

Left to right: Anu Kurien, NK Nandini, Nalini Manasseh, Supriya Hegde, Marjorie Suares, Heera Nawaz, Hazel Suares

What a lovely evening it was. There was so much to talk about, so many memories - of school days, sports events, all the people whose lives we had all been a part of. Miss Suares hosted us to a little tea party too.

Miss Suares is going to turn 87 this November - 87 years YOUNG. She's full of life, full of memories of all us girls. She sets a clear example of what a life full of sport and exercise can do for one! Although she's now recovering from a back problem, and wears a brace around her waist for extra support, she's so full of zest and enthusiasm. We must confess that before we met her, we were wondering if we would be meeting a frail bedridden lady, so it was such a lovely surprise to meet her and find her so alive and alert and very much present! As Rajshree had pointed out in an email recently, "She was always indestructible .. "

To be continued ..

Twenty years on .. Miss Suares and The Magic of Cottons (Part One)

It started with The Secret Order of Facebook, where various old Cottonians who had wandered down the vast corridors of the internet, found themselves in front of a magic door marked 'Log In'. And here it was that Bartonians, Foleyites and Maidens reunited and rekindled much of the olde magic of Cottons.

Then, with the magic tingling in her fingertips one day, Leena Athyal sat in front of her computer and uttered that omnipotent spell: "Google!" And so it was that the magic wound its way around the web and Miss Suares was found!

The internet Owls winged their way across with Leena's findings - Miss Suares' whereabouts and most importantly her phone number - and I found myself on the phone, asking to speak to "Mrs. Marjorie Suares". This did not get any positive response from the young vivid voice on the other end of the line. I thought for a moment and quickly amended my request, "I mean, MISS Marjorie Suares." This worked immediately.

"Speaking," was the answer.

(What a lovely affirmation for us single women! That an 87-year-old lady can communicate in that one little exchange, the pride and self-recognition of who we are - in a country where the misses are seen as women who have "missed out" - not that a Miss or a Mrs or even a Ms is superior one over the other - but that we are who we are, and we state it with our heads held high and our voices and self-worth firm as ever.)

And so the magic spread across the web. Soon letters were pouring in from around the world, and plans were made. And yesterday was the day - twenty pages printed out on yellow (imagine Gold) paper and wrapped in a Green folder, bound with a red satin ribbon (school colours, and Barton - for those of you with colour-blind memories!), and seven of us Old Cottonians frantically rushed to be On Time (after all, Miss Saures had told me, "Saturday at 4" and when "Suaree" gives specifics, you make sure you follow orders!)

Three hours later, we left, unwillingly, taking with us lovely memories and inspiration and even some useful anti-ageing tips!

To be continued ...

Shades of the same person...

The year was 1979, the month was April..2 good little girls dressed in their Saturday best were eagerly awaiting all the food and beer the Fete would bring. Notice the butter won't melt in our mouth smiles... one's at attention, the other at ease! Raj..if we could even be a shade of our former thin selves..guess I should speak for myself :-)

And then this shows up..blackmail material forever, bwahahahaha! Latha Nair and Raj playing dress-up!

pics to go with my blog - the great Madras Choir Competition

The famous Madras Choir competition!

1oth std..at the pinnacle of the school..the choir has been chosen to represent our school at an inter school competition in Madras. Oh..the excitement! What should we sing, how are we going to get there..what are we going to do there..will we win..is there any doubt..we're the BEST! Practices for Doctor Foster went to Gloucester..and the Lion Tamer..lyrics include "crack the whip"..the rest is buried in my mind and cannot be dynamited out. Positions and postures are painstakingly planned..uniforms pressed, blazers and shoes cleaned. The day arrives, we board the train to Madras with MS. SUARES AND HER FAMOUS WHISTLE. (we don't know what we're in store for!) Lots of singing in the train..Pleas from Mrs. Thomas and Mrs. Joseph to conserve our voices for the singing competition. The calmer ones go to sleep, the more rambunctious of us (read Raj, Shobha, Pervin, me and others) ride the rails sitting at the edge of the train door. We reach the famous Mount Road and the Church of South India. Find some hall or other to sleep in, with a graveyard in the back..Beautiful angels of stone..scary at night..Next day we line up to go to breakfast at the Kamath hotel..everyone is clamouring to give the waiter their order...OUT COMES THE FAMOUS WHISTLE..girls, girls, show some decorum..now how many of you want dosas, raise your hands, how many want idlis? Oh no..cringe, the height of embarrassment at that age..(have no clue that embarrassment is sticking your legs in stirrups and showing your privates to the world)..every one's looking at us..even the waiters are laughing..oh MS. Suares, how could you? We eat and get out of there as quick as possible. Go to the place of the competition..practice, practice, practice. Back to lunch at CSI..very hospitable, delicious..except for Shobha(Chachie) gagging from finding a lizard in the pickle..off for showers...sweating outside, sweating during and sweating when we come out...why is Madras so hot! The day of the competition dawns, nerves there but hidden..lots of reassurances that we can do it. On stage, Mrs. Thomas so put together looks absolutely beautiful in her brand new dress..we are so polished and put together, hit every mark, voices soar like angels..Pervin, Sandra and Jill hit every high note perfectly..Raj and I hit every note correctly, Shobha was an alto or tenor..can't remember..we can't lose, WE'RE THE BEST! Come back to the church..time for fun..its late, but there's always time for a walk. OUT COMES THE FAMOUS WHISTLE..line up girls..various states of dress and undress, some of us still in our uniforms, some in regular clothes..ART SIR in his "pyjamas"..blue, black and white striped, with polished black shoes..walk down Mount Road! Yup..we're representin..now! We're cool, we're hip, We're THE BISHOP COTTON'S GIRLS SCHOOL CHOIR..oh excuse the man in the pj's, he's with us, but not with us! We walk to the beach, check out all the stall around it..WHISTLE..Girls, stay away from the water..no, no buying any kachra from the stalls.." WHISTLE..line up time to walk back to the church..Next day we make our way back to the orderly life at school, bragging about the competition, holding it up as a badge of honour, rubbing it in other girl's faces. DID YOU WIN? OF COURSE WE'RE THE BEST! No..we were not, NOT in Madras..we cam 3RD..oh the mortification..we were robbed..they said our singing was too refined..what do they know about songs and choirs..partiality I tell you..all the other competitors were from Madras, of course they're not going to let someone from Bangalore win..

So came to the close one of my finest trips down memory lane...the highlight wasn't the competition or the songs..(of course I break out into Dr. Foster went to Gloucester for my kids now and then) but it was MS. SUARES'S WHISTLE and ART SIR in his Pj's. Now, you tell if the kids of today are not deprived of a well rounded education!

Drill Sergeant Marjorie Suares...PRRRP PRRP PRP!

Drill Sergeant Marjorie Suares.

The blow of her whistle was like a crack of a whip. Move it! Move it! – She got even the sluggiest of slugs to complete the 2 rounds around the field.
PT as we called it (physical training) was the bane of my existence. Jumping jacks, running on the spot, raising your knees as high as you could (which was never high enough!) Touch your toes...1 – 2 – 3 – 4.....Stand straight...”SHOULDERS BACK, CHEST OUT, STOMACH IN.....EYES LOOKING THEIR LEVEL”....she would holler and we’d comply. Drill Sergeant Marjorie Suares... No, she wasn’t a Real Drill Sergeant, but I bet she could have Whooped the Arses of any drill Sergeants out there. Bishop Cotton Girls School won several accolades in the field of Inter School Sports. Trophies and Shields of excellence were won under the Stern Eye and Firm Hand of Ms. Marjorie Suares. More often than not, Bishop Cotton Girls School (between the years while I was there -1975-1981) led the March Past in the Interschool Sports. This recognition is owed solely to Ms. Marjorie Suares, Old Cottonian and PT Teacher for many, many years. She was mean with the hockey stick and is the only person I can recall that could run the length of that hockey field (for her age!!) during the OCvs PC matches! Shame PC’s Shame!!

As a kid, I was interested in playing field hockey and basketball and I must say that Ms. Suares never let me forget the commitment I made. Once you’re in, you’re in for good or GET OUT! Which means – Practice, Practice, Practice and I must say I was proud to have been able to represent Cotton Girls in some of the matches for both games...No, I was not the best nor the Star Athlete, but I learned about Presence and Determination from Suaree (as we used to call her..never to her face..NO NO!). If there was anybody more Present (in more ways than one) in what she did and certainly more Determined, Ms. Suares stands out in my mind’s eye. She was there, rain or shine (much to our chagrin), but I don’t recall her ever being absent...does anybody else?? And mind you, you’d better have your bloomers or shorts on when you’re at PT!!!! As I look back and reminisce, Ms. Suares will always be a part...A BIG PART OF BISHOP COTTON GIRLS SCHOOL! She was 10ft tall for God’s Sakes....well, maybe not, but to me she sure appeared to be so!

Ps – I never hunch when I walk and am cautious even while I sit at my computer...coz if ever I do, I hear echoes of “SHOULDERS BACK, CHEST OUT, STOMACH IN, EYES LOOKING THEIR LEVEL...PRRRRRRP! PRRP! PRRP! -
If anybody has a pic of Ms. Suares kindly post it in the BLOG
Cheers,
Raj