1981.
I grew up in a small village. After school hours, I was helping to my father who used to climb Palmyra trees in the night time. On weekends, I worked as a daily wager. There was no electricity at my home and there wasn't any need to open the books at nights. Therefore there were no tensions like the children of this generation have. We were Lucky!
I
was twelve years old then and was in seventh standard. There were nine
pupils in my class: seven boys and two girls. One girl wasn’t set to seventh and
she turned down the other girl. It left only seven boys alone in the eighth grade.
We were Unlucky!
I
was the school pupil leader then. It was St Gabriel’s Roman Catholic Middle School
Thickurichy is located in the hill area, surrounded by the shady trees on the bank
of the cool Kulithurai River. Students studied under the trees. The boys carried
a black board to the spot and used the solar light and wind as natural
utilities.
Seven
names of my class mates: a helpful Paul Raj and a smart Paul Raj the second; a
tall soft Valsalam the third and a fast Justin the fourth; a brisk Christu Raj
the fifth and the sixth a brilliant Jayakumar and myself Jebamony Mathias the
last the author of this memoir.
On
the way to the school, at least thirty children from every corner of the houses
joined in my hang, aged between five and twelve, and we moved as a herd. I was
on the front and my younger brother Doss on my left; and my cousin Arul on my right - two protectors.
All thirty children voted for me and I was elected School people leader in my School. The total strength of the School was not more than Seventy Five.
The Tamil
Nadu Government gave a limited amount of wheat upma in the afternoon as part of
the noon meal scheme. Otherwise most of us could not have continued in the
schools.
I made
my first speech on the stage when I was in the eighth standard. My teacher, Ratna
Bai, a Tamil bandit asked me to participate in the elocution competition. I can’t say ‘No’ to her. The task
given had turned out as an adventure to me. She prepared a very simple organized script. And
I memorized it in a less time on the same day. But, I had to wait another fifteen
days for the competition. And I became nervous on every single night and was awaiting
to meet the challenge.
In
the midst, my elder brother, a very knowledgeable History man, introduced an
English quote in the speech. Pronouncing English words were very prestigious
and I too felt it as an honor and therefore by-heart the quotation more than hundred
times. I was murmuring with those words while walking, bathing and eating. The quotation
echoed wherever I went: market places, lakes, hills and so on.
I rehearsed
it several times and was ready to deliver the speech within a time of two
minutes overall. The speech sections include: opening paragraph, theme,
concluding paragraph, and a closing line.
It
was 14th Nov! The time had come! My turn came at four in the evening.
As soon as the Jury called my name, I walked to the stage in a roused mode, and
stood near him majestically. The bell rang up. I let out the words in a high
tone with all my energy, and began to pelt the English words. In a hurry, I
pronounced the quotation as “Nehru is born of the poon” and thereby I missed
the leading s in the word spoon and then struggled subsequently seeking
the right word to continue. The Jury noted my inappropriate pronunciation and
incomplete presentation and improper posture. The Tamil bandit showed her faded
face sitting at the front row. She embarrassed me!
However,
the crowd was anxious to hear my foreign language (English). They thought that I
was rocking with vocabularies. Having seen the expectation of the audience, I resumed
and tried the quotation saying, “Nehru is born of the spoon of the India,” and
then stammered again, failed again to continue. After that I sounded out the same
quotation very fast, in different rhythms, in a different body gesture for
several times like a cinema actor generally performs in a typical Tamil comedy movies.
The audience
did not realize my incompetency (today we see it in reality of the skill of
leaders) but instead the innocent public thought that I was rocking and more
applause therefore!!! But, truly, I was stretching my arms unusually because of
my restlessness on the stage and therefore was babbling in an excitement. At
last, I concluded the speech as “Nehru is born of the spoon of the silver of
the spoon of India.” That was my own English!!!
Finally,
I received a special prize for my confidence and braveness for my participation.
That had turned me out as a regular participator in the elocution competitions and
later on and I won several prizes.
The
right quote that I had to pronounce was “Nehru is born in silver spoon in his
mouth.”
I could speak and write English
on these days. It is the unmerited favour and mercy given by my Lord. He saves us
through His grace and not according to our work. “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives
us power, love and self-discipline,” and I believe the Word which strengthens
me every day.
- Jebamony Mathias
