STUDENT PRANKS

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J. Vasanthan recalls student life


WHEN I came to Madurai in 1951 to study at the American College, the streets of the city were a delight to walk on. There was little traffic, mostly bicycles and a few jutkas and rickshaws.

The city buses were half the size they are now, and less in number. The air was fresh and the dust was almost non-existent. So we enjoyed long walks, absorbing the sights and sounds of the city.

Arresting Movement

Our favourite road was the Town Hall Road, which was all hustle and bustle night and day. Even after midnight people were scurrying about on some business or the other. Every one was hurrying; no one strolled or sauntered, except us of course. We wondered where these people were rushing off to and whether they could be stopped for a while. One day four or five students stood in the busiest part of Town Hall Road and kept looking at a fixed spot. Soon a crowd gathered around them and everyone was looking up at the same spot. A couple of students slipped off to the edge of the crowd, and one of them asked a man ``what's going on?'' ``There's something up there, but I don't know what'' the man said, and continued gazing upwards. The students walked off, very pleased with themselves. When we learnt some new word in the classroom, we tested it on the shopkeepers. There were three big shops in East Chitrai Street. Some students would go to one of these shops and ask, ``Do you have any metronome?'' (or synecdoche or tarantula).

The shopkeeper never revealed his ignorance but always gave an answer like. ``We are out of stock. May be will be getting fresh stock next week!''

Signboard Shenanigans

When I went on to Madras Christian College, I found the student pranks there more innovative but not quite as harmless as the Madurai variety. Students filched all kinds of signboards and brought them back to the campus. Once they brought a doctor's signboard and fixed to a lavatory door. The board gave the doctor's name and his degrees — M.D., MRCP. At the bottom was an adjustable sign — The Doctor is in / out. Those going to the lavatory pushed it to `in' and pushed it back to `out' when they came out. So the doctor was in and out throughout the day. Two days later the doctor's assistant traced the board and took it back. Later when I became a lecturer I continued to live in a hostel and when I went to take roll-call in the nights I was surprised to find one entire wall of a student's room decorated with various signs like `No Trespassing', `Keep off the grass' and so on. This student, Mathew Abraham, and his friends took a photograph of themselves, which I eventually got to see. The entire bunch was posing without clothes with just signboards held in front to cover their nakedness. Mathew himself was giving a back view with a board held behind him. It said `out of order'. And another very plump student Anil Kumar Bandhari held a small circular board before him that said `Private.' The photo showed a lot of inventiveness and made one burst into spontaneous laughter.

A surprise Gift

The popular eatery at that time was the Buhari Hotel on Mount Road. Gangs of students frequented this place and very cleverly lifted cutlery and crockery, never once getting caught. When I got married Bandhari and his friends brought us a wedding gift — a complete dinner set with twelve plates, twelve quarter plates and a dozen spoons, forks and knives. But on every item was the inscription `Buhari Hotels.'

It must have taken a lot of time and several visits and careful planning to steal so many items. We appreciated it, but refused to accept the gift. Whereupon the students bought us a new set from a prestigious shop. They were affluent enough to do so. These student pranks may have caused some inconvenience to a few people. But they were useful outlets for the creative energies of the young men.

© Copyright 2000 - 2009 The Hindu

REMEMBERING J.C.B.A.

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Dr. J.C.B. Abraham was a brilliant teacher whether lecturing to college students, clubs like Multi-Discipline Mandram and The Historical Society, or enthusing school children to develop a scientific temper, writes J. VASANTHAN


DR. J.C.B. ABRAHAM, THE eminent professor of Zoology and former Vice-Principal of American College, was known as Bhaskar to his friends, and JCB to most others. But no one knew what the initials J.C. stood for.

During the 1920s when he was born, it was a custom among Christian parents to name their children after some foreign missionary or dignitary. So it was with JCB's parents. The first two names proved to be a great embarrassment to him, and so he consigned them to the anonymity of initials. When anybody asked him what JC stood for, he would say Julius Caesar or Jesus Christ, but would never divulge the real names.

An irrational rationalist

JCB was a brilliant teacher whether lecturing to college students, clubs like Multi-Discipline Mandram and The Historical Society, or enthusing school children to develop a scientific temper. But he did have many eccentricities.

He was a bundle of contradictions. He proclaimed himself to be an atheist. But a former Bishop of Madurai declared him to be "a better Christian than many". He was very fond of children, but never thought of getting married and raising kids of his own. He prided himself on being a rationalist, but was prone to quick likes and dislikes, and unreasonable prejudices. His friends labelled him an `irrational rationalist'. He was a scientist, but was morbidly distrustful of modern gadgets. He refused to have a TV or a fridge in his house. It is such contradictions that made him an interesting person to know.

Cricket crazy

There was a certain boyish enthusiasm in his pursuit of his interests. Cricket was a great passion with him. He had all the scores and records at his fingertips. When he went to England, he visited the Lords cricket ground. The guides there who were taking various groups around and explaining the features of `the Mecca of Cricket', were amazed to find that JCB was better informed than they were. Some people among the tourists asked him to show them around. The professional guides also urged him to do so.

And so the man from Madurai gave the Englishmen and men of other nations, including Pakistan, a guided tour. If they saw a stuffed bird in a showcase, JCB could tell them which bowler's ball had killed the bird, in which year, in which over and who the batsman was. At the end of the tour he was given a great ovation.

During test matches JCB always carried a transistor radio to listen to the commentary. And when someone hit a four or got clean bowled, he would do a little jig, unmindful of where he was and of the decorum demanded of a senior professor. There was something child-like about him in such matters.

Holmesiana

Another great enthusiasm he had was for Sherlock Holmes stories of Sir Arthur Conan

Doyle. If you quoted any line from these stories, he could tell you the title of the story, who illustrated it in the Strand Magazine, and even the year it was written. For him Holmes was not just a fictional character. He was a living hero to be looked up to, for Holmes was a practitioner of pure reasoning. And just like JCB, Holmes was a confirmed bachelor.

JCB was the only member from India of the Sherlock Holmes Society. To become a member one had to pass a test in the complete Holmes stories. Needless to say, our man came off with flying colours. He once visited the Sherlock Holmes Museum at 221-B Baker Street, and soon had an enthralled group of tourists trailing him around as he expounded on the various memorabilia on display and the stories connected with them. Another passion of his was the Hollywood Western. He would carry a pocket counter to the theatre and count the number of shootouts and showdowns. One would expect this kind of reaction to be more in keeping with a teenager.

Homage to Russell

Among his great heroes were Bertrand Russell, Bernard Shaw, Jawaharlal Nehru and Don Bradman. He could quote extensively from Russell's books, Shaw's plays and Nehru's `Autobiography'. And he could reel off the ups and downs of Bradman's career.

When he went to London a few years after his retirement, he carried a zari garland all the way from Madurai, went to a park where Russell's statue stood, climbed the pedestal when no one was looking and garlanded his hero. The garland adorned the statue for three days before it was noticed and removed.

When Russell died, JCB kept writing to the Indian Government urging them to issue a stamp in Russell's honour. After some lengthy correspondence he finally got a letter saying that they were going to bring out a Russell stamp. India was the first nation in the world to do so.

Matrimonial jitters

Being a geneticist, JCB was mortally afraid of there being genetic flaws leading to insanity in any family. That was perhaps one reason why he kept putting off his marriage. Once he was persuaded to see a girl in a southern town. He went with his parents and was very well received. The girl came in, and she was a real beauty. The stony heart of the bachelor began to thaw and melt. At that point a downy feather came floating into the room. The girl leapt up, seized the feather and blew it at her father, then ignoring her father's remonstrances rushed to the other side, caught it and blew it again. By the time the feather settled down JCB had vanished from the scene.

Self-diagnosis

JCB trusted only one doctor - Dr.E.S.Johnson, his classmate and friend. So when he fell ill some years ago, and Dr.Johnson was not available, being sick himself, JCB decided not to go to any other doctor. He diagnosed his own illness by referring to the definitions in the Oxford Dictionary. The dictionary said there was no cure for this, and so he decided to ignore his illness.

On the table in his drawing room he had a small framed quotation, "A bachelor lives like a king and dies like a dog. A married man lives like a dog and dies like a king." An attender for household chores found JCB lying dead on the floor one morning.

© Copyright 2000 - 2009 The Hindu


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