I was studying in Class 6 in the Government
Upper Primary School, Puthuvely, when a uniform dress code was established in
the school for students – khaki trousers and white shirt for boys. I had no
white shirt. All my shirts were dark coloured or checked. White shirts got
dirty very soon and would have to be washed every day. And we could not afford
that much detergent. But now, it had become mandatory to wear white shirt in
school. Also, there was no money to purchase a new shirt. A new shirt would
have cost around five rupees, which was huge.
Mother had a solution. She gave me one of
father’s shirts. He had only white shirts. He wore shirt very sparingly, only
when he used to travel very far by bus or on special occasions. When I wore that
shirt, the colour or make of the trousers that I wore (or did not wear) didn’t
matter. The shirt covered including my knees completely hiding my trousers. I
stopped almost all kinds of plays and adventures that normal boys of my age
used to engage in, for two reasons. One, it was very inconvenient to engage in
any kind of activity wearing such a huge shirt, and two, I did not want to
dirty the shirt, lest mother would have to wash it every day.
It must have been a week or two after the
uniform rule came into effect. Every day I wore father’s shirt. One day the
headmaster, (he was my mother’s cousin) called me to his office. It was
frightening to be called by any teacher to the staff room. It was usually to
award punishment for some mistake we did. And to be called by the headmaster
was even more scary. I entered his office ready to be punished for some unknown
mistake which I might have committed. I slowly approached him. He smilingly handed
me a piece of paper and a 50 paise coin. He asked, ‘Have you seen
Koothattukulam Textiles?’ I said, ‘Yes’. During those days that was the biggest
textile shop in Koothattukulam. He continued, ‘All right. Go there, give this
letter to the manager. He will give you a packet. Bring it to me.’
I was so much relieved. Wow! It was not for
awarding a punishment that he called me. Instead he wanted me to run an errand
for him. I was proud to do it. After all, he was the very strict headmaster
whom all the students feared and even teachers respected very much. And he was
my uncle!
Koothattukulam was about three kilometers
from the school. I took a bus. The ticket cost 10 paise. I collected the packet
and returned to school. By then school time was over and students had departed.
When I gave the packet to him, he said, ‘It is for you. Take it.’ I could never
imagine that he would give me a present. He continued, ‘It is a white shirt,
wear it in school from tomorrow.’ I did not know what to tell him or how to
thank him. It was wonderful to receive a present from anybody. And to get a
shirt was even better, and that too, from one's headmaster!
I ran the distance of about two kilometres to
home. To reach home I had to cross tiny hills and valleys, narrow passages
through paddy fields, cross streams, and climb through stone walls. I was nearly breathless by the time I reached. I proudly told
mother what had happened in school. She listened to me carefully, looked at the
shirt, and silently kissed me on my forehead which was profusely perspiring.
I didn’t understand then why mother cried
instead of being happy.
:)
ReplyDeleteSu.
sounds like a story!!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Meena.
DeleteReceived through e-mail:
ReplyDeletevery interesting to read and a lot of things to learn...........
regards
J P Bhat
Thank you, JP.
Deletevery touching indeed. Good work. Keep going!
ReplyDeleteThe writing takes one to the past ... Hm.. memories of love, respect and poverty.
ReplyDeleteReceived via e-mail:
ReplyDeleteSimply a touching anecdote. My story is quite similar but the ordeal in my case began where your story stops! Hope to have some conversation some day.
Hilal Ahmed
Thank you, Hema, Aniyan and Mr Hilal for your comments.
ReplyDeletelast para...last sentence....rely touching.( seaing that scne.paddy field..hilss..puthuveli..etc etc and atlast mothers expression...)
ReplyDeletejayathanettaa...who was that hdmstr???(uncle) Is he aline??? Asha Raman
ReplyDeleteAsha, The headmaster was K.R. Narayanan Namboothiry (popularly known as Rajan Sir). He passed away a few years ago.
DeleteReceived via e-mail:
ReplyDeleteIt is so nice of you, remembering me.
Very nice, the blogs are really ............... Cannot express my feelings in words.
Pls keep in touch.
rita
Thank you, Rita, for your kind words.
DeleteReceived via e-mail:
ReplyDelete'The Uniform' is really touching!!! It made me cry too!!!
Keep posting.
Valsa
Thank you, Valsa, for your kind words.
DeleteReceived via e-mail:
ReplyDeletevery touching...have heard such stories from my mother too...may be there was a twist there..she was the youngest and not a welcome girl child...so always ignored too...she is no more...else would have read it aloud to her. thanks for reminding me about her
Mini
Thank you, Mini, for your kind words.
DeleteReceived via e-mail:
ReplyDeletedear Jayanthan, how are you doing? I have been reading your blog with a lot of interest. 'The Uniform' has been my favourite. it's so touching. You have narrated it beautifully; actually my eyes filled with tears. "I ran the distance of about two kilometres...climb through stone walls"... was the best touching piece of the whole story.. Thanks Jayanthan. Keep writing.
Love - Sankar
Thank you very much, Sankar. It is encouragement from friends like you that keep me going. Thanks.
DeleteReceived via e-mail:
ReplyDeleteNice One
Moni Singh
Thank you, Ms. Singh for your kind words.
DeleteI like your stories, Pothoppuram. Would you like to write something for a site I launched earlier this year, The Writer's Drawer (www.thewritersdrawer.net)?
ReplyDeleteBeryl Belsky
writersdrawer@gmail.com
Thank you, Beryl, for your invitation. I appreciate it very much. I shall get back to you later after going through your site.
DeleteLinkedIn comment:
ReplyDeleteI like your story about the white shirt. It's sweet and simple,an innocent spirit.
Posted by Sharla Ault
Thank you, Sharla, for your kind words.
Deletesir
ReplyDeleteu touched almost the heart where it pains more we 5 children went school barefoot when father can afford 75p slippers per pair
our joy knew no bounds those days really golden days
Thank you, Balu, for your comments. Yes, most of us have similar past. The tragedy (or can I say the fortunate part) is that we tend to forget it.
Deleteit is such a emotional story .loved it:)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sheeba, for reading my post. I am glad you liked it.
Delete