REMEMBERING Dr. MACPHAIL

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Years with a master spirit








Dr. James Russell Macphail (JRM) was the Principal of Madras Christian College when I went to study there. We heard that the principalship had been thrust upon him, which he had accepted very reluctantly, since he preferred to be in his study amidst his books. He laid down office the moment he got a chance, and continued to be a professor of English.


He did make a good principal though. The office was run very efficiently and he had a good rapport with the staff. On college day functions, the principal's annual report was like a witty English essay. The audience burst into delighted laughter several times when he read the report.


A great academician

He taught us Shakespeare and some poetry. He had a way of reading the text, which immediately struck a chord. Instead of explaining, he made us participate in the text. He was particularly good when reading Robert Burns, a fellow Scotsman. The deep Scottish burr he put on was particularly impressive in his bass voice.
He was entitled to a huge salary, which all other foreigners in the college received. But he took just rupees four hundred and gave away the rest to Cooper Fund, which was meant to help indigent students. He never mentioned this to anyone, and we came to know of it only through a few beneficiaries.
JRM had published several articles at an young age in the prestigious Cornhill Magazine, founded by Thackeray. He could easily have made a brilliant career in Oxford or Cambridge. But he chose to come here. And he also decided to remain a bachelor.


A piquant friendship

When I joined the staff, I got to know JRM better, and we spent quite a bit of time together. We had similar tastes in books and films, and had a lot to talk about whenever we met. Even though I was the junior most member of the staff and he the senior most, he treated me like an equal, and introduced me to people as his friend.
We both became members of the Madras Film Society, and went to every film show organised by the society. We took an electric train from Tambaram to Egmore and a bus from there. Whenever we had to walk some distance, several cars would stop to offer Dr. Macphail a lift, but he firmly declined them. We also watched films in the theatres. On such days he gave his butler permission to leave in the afternoon. One day we went to Woodlands open air restaurant near Safire Theatre, where we had planned to see the film, `Cleopatra.' All the waiters were clustering around one particular table, and we were not even noticed. JRM was impatiently looking at his watch. Suddenly, the man at the other table happened to see JRM, and he got up and rushed to our table.

"Sir, do you remember me?" He asked with boyish eagerness, "I was your student."

"Your face is familiar," said JRM. "What do you do nowadays?"

"I am a minister in the central cabinet, Sir" said the man

JRM smiled and nodded, but was looking about for a waiter. "Are you in a hurry, Sir?" the man asked. And when JRM nodded, he snapped his fingers, and a whole mob of waiters flocked to our table, flooding us with service. Such incidents were quite common during our trips to the city.


Just a short time before his retirement, JRM was stricken with cancer of the bone marrow of the spine. He underwent treatment in Vellore, and when he returned, he was walking with the help of crutches. His butler told us that he cried in the nights in pain. But when we met him in the morning, he talked about films and books and joked and laughed. I too was careful not to mention the painful subject.


What one prays for

One day as I was approaching his house, I saw a lady come rushing out and JRM standing at the door. "What happened, Sir?" I asked. "That woman wanted to pray for my cure," he said. "So I chased her off."


Since the topic was broached, I talked about his illness for the first time. "What is wrong with that, Sir?" "It is none of her business, We shouldn't question God's will."

"Then don't you pray for a cure, Sir?"

"No. It is God's will that I should have this illness".

"Then what do you pray for, Sir?"

"I pray for strength to bear the pain."

JRM went off to Scotland. He had arranged for a job as chaplain in a hospital for physically handicapped people. After some time his condition improved considerably, to the great surprise of doctors, and he went on a trip to Europe. There he got drenched in the rain, and caught a severe cold.


He died of pneumonia.


J. VASANTHAN
(The author can be contacted at jvasanthan@sancharnet.in)
© Copyright 2000 - 2009 The Hindu

TALE OF TWO CANINES

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Jeno and Rigo, the attractive dogs of a neighbour





My friend Hirudayaraj had two dogs in his house. Jeno was a black female and Rigo was a massive brown male. Both were of uncertain pedigree, but natives of the soil.
Jeno was pleasant and friendly, but tried to boss over Rigo, which Rigo good-naturedly tolerated. Rigo was the terror of the neighbourhood, particularly to the male dogs of the locality. He also happened to be the heart-throb of the female dog population. He seemed to like both these roles, and played them with great zest and aplomb


Bold Babe

I used to go for a walk on the Race Course Road and since Hirudayaraj's house was in the adjacent colony, I stopped by almost every evening for a chat. Jeno and Rigo greeted me effusively and led me into the house. They came out to send me off when I left. This became a mandatory ritual in course of time. Sometimes Rigo would be missing, away perhaps on one of his amatory adventures.


Once my daughter's family had come for a vacation, and I took my two grand daughters for a drive. On the way back, we stopped at Hirudayaraj's house. Anjali, who was three and a half, walked ahead into the house to a tumultuous welcome by the whole family, and started chatting animatedly with them. I was carrying Raagini who was one and a half years old. As soon as she saw the dogs, Raagini started whimpering. Assuming she was scared, Hirudayaraj said: "They won't bite you, Raaga. They are harmless." The ladies of the house also assured her that she would be safe.
But she continued to whimper and tried to get down from my arms. The moment I put her down she rushed to Rigo and hugged him, and clung on to him. Everyone was surprised, Rigo most of all. He stood stiffly, obviously worried about his image. He had known little children to scream and run off the moment they saw him. And now this fearless little one was taking liberties with him! He stood there for awhile, and the moment he got a chance he stepped out of the house and vanished from sight.
After about half an hour he came back and peeped in. When he saw the bold tyke still there, he did mother vanishing act, and didn't show his face as long as we were there.


The Call of Cupid

One day as I was walking along the Race Course, Rigo saw me, and came to join me. He fell into step with me, carrying himself with military rigidity, since he perhaps felt that he was on escort duty. At the sight of Rigo all the dogs of that locality made themselves scarce - the male dogs, that is. It was a different story with the females. They paraded before us, acting coy and coquettish, trying to attract Rigo's attention.


Rigo studiously ignored them, since as I said before he was `on duty.' After we had covered some distance, a cute and lively dog walked along with us, making eyes at Rigo and trying out her feminine wiles on him. Rigo resisted temptation for as long as he could. And then he stopped and gave me a long look that seemed to say: "Excuse me, Sir. I didn't want to leave you. But love calls, and I can't say nay. Forgive me, Sir, for I must go." And then the canine Casanova left the scene with the saucy siren.


Farewell to the Master

When Hirudayaraj fell ill, Jeno and Rigo sat quietly on the verandah, not making the slightest noise. But that night they suddenly set up a shrill and continuous howling. The people who had gathered in the house muttered among themselves that the dogs had perhaps sensed the approach of death. Hirudayaraj passed away a few hours later. The dogs kept up their howling. So they were taken to a house some distance away and locked up in a room. The next day when the body was being removed for burial the dogs howled again which we could hear even at that distance.
After Hirudayaraj's death, the family moved off to Chennai. Jeno disappeared there, perhaps killed in a road accident. Rigo is old and infirm now, leading a sedentary life. His memories perhaps keep him going.


J. VASANTHAN.
© Copyright 2000 - 2009 The Hindu

THE ROMANCE OF ELOPEMENT

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Love on the run





When a boy and a girl elope to get married, they seem to touch a chord in the heartstrings of the community. They become the romantic hero and heroine in the imagination of the younger members of their society.
There was a young tutor in English in the American College who had lost his heart to a girl in the neighbourhood at a very young age. The girl reciprocated his feelings, but the mother of the girl was dead against the alliance. So the young man decided to run off with his girl. She was at that time a student in the Madurai Medical College.


On a Bike Swiftly

The young man planned the whole operation meticulously. His friends had made arrangements for a registered marriage in Thanjavur. On the appointed day, the young Romeo went on his motorcycle to the Medical College, took his girl on the pillion and hightailed it out of town. He had arranged to change the motorcycle at regular intervals. His friends waited for him with other bikes. By the time he reached his destination he had changed bikes three times in order to cover his tracks.
After the marriage, the young couple came back to Madurai triumphantly only to be met by some policemen and taken to the police station. But since both were majors, no case was made out. However the couple did have to run about hither and thither to avoid unpleasant encounters with some people. The next day the local newspapers, especially the vernacular ones, splashed the news with many an exclamation mark. And overnight the young man had become a hero of sorts. The couple did well in their careers. The young man, Israel K.Mani, left the American College and chose a different field where he rose to be Regional Manager in an undertaking of the Ministry of Finance, Government of India. His wife, Anne, is a highly respected medical practitioner. They have three grown-up daughters and one grandchild, and like in the fairy tale, are living happily ever after.


Their elopement won the admiration and envy of many young men. There was a young lecturer in another college who was so taken up by Israel's adventure that he decided to emulate him. But his case was a little different. His marriage had already been fixed with the girl next door who was related to him. But he still decided on elopement so that he could hit the headlines in the local press.


A Compulsive Romantic

The girl was rather reluctant to comply with his scheme, but he persuaded her, and they ran off one night. Contrary to his expectation, no one searched for them; there was no police complaint, nor was there any announcement in the papers. The young couple was deprived of the thrills of the chase.
The parents seemed to feel that this was an inexpensive way to conduct the marriage. Anyway, their desire had been fulfilled, and so they just sat at home and waited for the young pair to return. Sure enough the couple returned sheepishly, and that was that.


At about this time the young man was given invigilation duty for the university exams in the American College. He made one last-ditch effort to project himself as a romantic hero. He came to me about half an hour before the exam and said, "People are looking for me all over the city since I carried off a girl and married her. Can you tell the chief superintendent to excuse me today? I have to go and hide."
So I congratulated him and then took him to the chief superintendent and told him that the young man had a problem and wanted to be excused. The chief complied immediately. But the young man was not satisfied.


He took me aside and said, "You should have explained the matter to him and told him that I had to hide."


So I took him again to the chief superintendent intending to proclaim the young man's romantic derring-do for all to hear. But the chief waved us off as soon as I began, thus thwarting the publicity drive that the young man had craved for.
He went off gloomily having failed to win his place in the sun.


J. VASANTHAN
© Copyright 2000 - 2009 The Hindu

THE LUNGS OF THE CITY

Lakes and ponds were the lungs of the city and should necessarily be preserved.


Those days, many years ago, Madurai was studded with several ponds and lakes, all connected to each other by numerous canals. These canals ran along by the side of Old Natham Road, Melur Road, and the road leading to Viraganur. There were also branches of these canals that filled several small ponds and tanks in the interior of the city. When the ponds got filled up, the excess water flowed into the Vaigai.


Boating Jaunts

As a college student in 1951, I was familiar with some of these water bodies. We used to watch water birds gliding about on the placid surface of the water. Sometimes there were anglers trying to catch fish with a rod and line. And there were boats in some of these lakes.


The most popular boating spot was the Mariamman Teppakulam. During festival time the tank was surrounded by a seething mass of humanity. My friends and I were regular visitors during the float festival. At other times we went boating in the tank. There were many young lovers too in these boats. They liked to carve their names on the trees or the walls of the mandapam in the middle of the tank, making sure not to write their surnames or initials. We watched these pairs with some envy, and some hope for the future.


Another small lake was situated by the side of the Lady Doak College. Between this lake and the college was a high bund which we used to walk on in the evenings. Sometimes we sat on the bund to chat, and to watch the few boats that plied on the lake used by anglers. We could also get rides in these boats for a small sum. This lake is no longer there. The All India Radio building, the Provident Fund Office and the Kendriya Vidyalaya now occupy this area. I must say the lake looked better.


The Nolting Canal

One of the canals that connected some lakes ran right through the American College campus. It entered the campus from the east and made its exit at the south-western corner, going on to join the river. At reopening time in June the campus was a riot of colours with flame of the forest and other flowers growing in profusion. Many of these flowers fell into the canal making it also colourful. Some ducks swam in this canal quacking away happily. The Bursar of the college, Mr. Nolting, an American gentleman, was very particular that the canal should not be disturbed in any way. And he saw to it that the students did not harm the ducks. Naturally, we named the canal `Nolting Canal'. We spent a lot of time standing near the canal watching the floating flowers and the ducks. It is a pity that the Nolting Canal is no longer there.


Another very huge lake has also been encroached upon, and made extinct. Several huge buildings have come up here like the Rajah Muthiah Mandram, the Law College etc., and most sadly, the Corporation building - a case of the protector turning predator. The edges of another lake have been encroached upon by many buildings including a very big hospital. The tank in the Town Hall Road has disappeared in a plethora of small shops. It is a pity that none of the officials at that time had the knowledge and realization to protect the ponds and lakes. Even the canals have dried because of encroachments.


Once when a new mayor was elected, a certain group organized a meeting to felicitate him. I was one of the speakers. After congratulating him and wishing him well, I mentioned how the water bodies were being vandalized. I pointed out that these lakes and ponds were the lungs of the city and should necessarily be preserved. I requested the new mayor to see to it that at least in the future they were protected from encroachment.


In his reply the new mayor very responsibly replied thus: "Looks like Prof.Vasanthan wants to go boating with his wife. There is one lake just outside Madurai which still has water in it. The professor can perhaps do his boating there."
Is it any wonder that the lakes are going dry?





J. VASANTHAN
© Copyright 2000 - 2009 The Hindu

COLLEGE ENTERTAINMENT

A comment on cultural programmes by college students


During my student days in college the entertainment put up on College Days and other functions were highly original and innovative.


Original skits

The skits were based either on the prescribed literary texts or on current events. There was a hilarious spoof of Antony's oration (Julius Caesar). One delivered the speech, and the other translated it in Tamil most inappropriately. "Friends (Nanbargale), Romans (Romargale - the interpreter touched his hair while saying this), Countrymen (Pattikkaataangale)". "Ambitious" became Ambipayal and so on. The crowd was reduced to helpless laughter.


Such skits continued to be put up till just a few years ago. One student, Muthuswamy, did a very funny little play about the Chinese invasion when the papers were full of news about it. Some swamijis in the Himalayas encounter a few Chinese soldiers and engage them in conversation. They used sign language but spoke several asides to the audience in Tamil. It was great fun.


Haroon Mohamed and Anil Kumar Bhandari put up hilarious skits and they were experts in ad-libbing. Once when an open air performance was going on, a plane flew overhead. And quick as a flash Haroon Mohamed said, "The arms have arrived. Fidel Castroil has kept his promise."


Original Music

Students displayed their creativity also in composing their own songs. One student, Rajasekhar, made up and sang a song that went "Varadakshanai vendaam, Vasanthaave Poadhum" which was a smash hit with the audience. It was requested time and again in subsequent years.
They also had cricket commentaries. One player wields a broom and walks to the end of the stage. "He has swept the ball to the boundary" says the commentator.
Another student, Vivekanandan, did a very funny take-off on the famous musical group, `ABBA'. He called his group `AMMA', that produced `music' by making sounds with the mouth.


These were all kitchen sounds like grinding, pounding, boiling, frying and so on, but nevertheless having a semblance of harmony. Vivekanandan put up several such skits during his three years of study.
He later shortened his name to Vivek and became a successful film comedian.
I must say that his film routines were never as inventive as the items he did in college.


Decline of Originality

Today college entertainment consists mostly of dancing to some film song played on some audio equipment. Those days such dancing was contemptuously referred to as "record dance" and confined to exhibition venues.


Recently a couple of girls came to invite my wife to be a judge of a dance contest in their college. The event was called `Footloose'. When she came back after the contest, I asked her how it was. She said the recorded music was too loud, and the movements of the dancers a little vulgar.


The two girls came back the next day on a visit. I asked them why they had made such a din and thrown their limbs about in gay abandon. "That was nothing" said one of the girls. "After Aunty left we pushed the volume to the peak, and made the movements much faster and naughtier". "Then you should call the programme `Nutloose', not `Footloose'" I said.


That seems to be appropriate for many of the youth programmes of today.




J. VASANTHAN
© Copyright 2000 - 2009 The Hindu