On my way home I notice Mr Afjul Auleear. We live in the same locality. I cross the road to meet him. I owe him at least a greeting. Then the conversation inevitably turns to our days at the Collège du Saint-Esprit. He joined the staff after freshly graduating in a Tripos from the University of London. He was already an avid reader. I was in Upper VI. We are in the late Sixties. A demarcation line was drawn and a relationship which has survived to this day was established.
A Brilliant Student
I tell him about my feelings on learning about the demise of France Canabady. It was easy for me to befriend him and establish a special rapport because not many years separated us. He was a brilliant student and had graduated from Manchester University. We used to meet daily in the early hours of the morning jogging along Hillcrest Avenue. I remember requesting him to forgive a student he had punished. He did so even if in his opinion the punishment was justified. I could broach different topics ranging from politics to literature with him. I miss him.
After bidding Mr Afjul Auleear good-bye before reaching my place I thought about Mr Octave Pascal. He wrote a quotation from Antoine de St. Exupéry’s Le Petit Prince way back in 1966 in my copybook when I was in Form IV. Time has not obliterated it from the tablets of my memory. It reads, On ne voit bien qu’avec le coeur. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux. From him I learnt not only the intricacies of the Greek language but also how to go beyond my limitations. He kept telling me, l’effort n’a jamais tué personne. He is no more.
The Black Dominoes
I learnt about Mr José Moutia’s demise through an obituary in the papers. We used to meet regularly because we had so many interests in common. Pop music happened to be one of them. My friendship for him started in 1965. I was in Form III. He was associated with an orchestra The Black Dominoes. In 1966 we founded a fan club of the Belgian singer, Salvatore Adamo, who in a voice of his own gave us so many hits. He left the Collège du Saint-Esprit soon after to take appointment at then the Teachers’ Training College. The last time we met goes back to the eve of my departure for the University of Delhi. I gained self-confidence in his company. He also introduced me to the art of public speaking.
I wish to add the name of Michael Ng to this list. He was always well-dressed and was endowed with the ideal temperament to teach Mathematics.
To Sir with Love
When Mr Cyril Leckning passed away, I paid my tribute to him in Week-End borrowing E.R. Braithwaite’s title To Sir With Love. He taught me French and French Literature from Forms I to VI. He introduced me to the beauty of French poetry. In Class II I had the privilege to be taught by a gentleman named Philippe Boudan and I came across expressions like Tarpad and Molar. I learnt to use the word “bécane” for bicycle. I was exposed to a new culture which I came to assimilate with the passage of time. I read my first books The Great Stone Face and The King of the Golden River. I have never stopped reading since.
I Remember I Remember
In Form I Father Eamon Graham introduced me to English poetry with Thomas Hood’s I Remember I Remember. In Form III we were exposed to a wide gamut of poetry which included Robert Browning’s The Pied Piper of Hamelin to which Father Jarlath Dowling added a personal touch when the piper asked for his remuneration.
I believe my sensibilities were roused after a perusal of W.B. Yeats’s The Lake Isle of Innisfree. The late Deepchand Beeharry quoted this poem when he wrote about his passage to Santiniketan where he studied
Where peace comes dropping slow
Dropping like the veil of the morning
…………………………………………………………….
Father Dowling was a talented musician. With Edmond Morel and Yves D’Hotman and other students he staged The Mikado and The Pirates of Penzance which were roaring successes.
The River of Jordan
Father Samuel Moore introduced me to the Greek language and rendered the learning process so challenging that I studied it, although at subsidiary level, till Form VI.
Father Eamon Mansfield was the perfect Dean of studies one could wish for. He died in his native Ireland and I made it a must to attend a mass in his memory which the late Mrs. Cynthia Pallamy organized. He introduced me to a song of which I remember only the words There is one more river and that is the River of Jordan. His office was on the right side of the passage which led to the Physics laboratory, the precinct of Mr. Raymond Rivet.
Simple English and Short Sentences
Father Patrick Murphy taught me how to express my ideas in a style of my own. He taught me English language in Form V and King Lear in Form VI. He did not appreciate long, meandering sentences. He was for some time in the parish of Saint Pierre before migrating to Rivière du Rempart where he breathed his last.
Pages are by and by being removed from the book of my life with every demise. I owe a debt of gratitude towards all of them for they did not hesitate to share their knowledge with me and my classmates.
Whenever I go by the college, I try to meet my teachers. It so happened that once when I saw Mr Georges Hau Wan Kau. I retraced my steps to greet him. In his impeccable French he told me Vous êtes retourné sur vos pas pour me dire bon jour.
Choice of a Profession
My time came to feel the Call. I naturally opted for teaching as a profession. I have been teaching ever since I joined Yogi Rummun’s Presidency College before migrating to Eden College and ultimately the Mahatma Gandhi Institute. I ended my career in the same institution as senior lecturer. I enjoyed interacting with young people. It kept me young in thought at least and delayed the ageing process which now has become irreversible. I harbour no regrets whatsoever for that choice.
“Revenez Nicholas”
I was with the cohort of students who had gathered at the then Plaisance Airport to bid farewell to Father Louis Nicholas. Jackie Vellin was part of that group. Before boarding the flight, he told us that teachers miss their students and there are times when they enquire what has become of them. A teacher is always a teacher. Whenever my students happen to see me they come to meet me. Students remember for ever those teachers who have made an impact on them.
Human Ties and Memories
These people have fashioned me. I would definitely have been a different person had I not interacted with them. I am indeed grateful to them. Many of my classmates and friends of my age group have migrated to other climes. When I think of them I ask myself how they are faring. Time has not obliterated their adolescent faces from my mind. Human ties are ephemeral. Memories remain. I think of Yves Mée Pagnier, Christian Michaud, Gilbert Ahnee, Hervé, Christian and Mick Fanchette, Jean-Alain Moussié, Marc Dumolard, Jean Etienne, Jean Letord, Leslie Luchman, Maurice Lacoste, Ti France de Spéville, Chandra and Sew Kumar Gujadhur. Bhasker Desai was in Form II when I was secretary of the Astronomy Club. I was interested in the sun spots and movements of the planets.
In my leaving certificate the Revd. Father MC Tiernan mentioned that I “mixed well in the multiracial environment of the college”.
I tried. I tried very hard
In moments of tranquility when the lights are out I listen to Jim Reeves, Hughes Aufray, Hemant Kumar, Talat Mahmood and Manna Dey in the peaceful atmosphere of my study. Some faces and names invariably emerge from my subconscious.
I do not hesitate to tell Mr. Lewis Mungar, Mr. Gaëtan Ferré, Father Adrien Wiehé, Father Desmond Keegan and the noble souls I have earlier mentioned, “Father, Sir, I could not teach my students with the same zeal, dedication and enthusiasm as you did towards us but I tried. I tried very hard”.
Mithyl Banymandhub
