The Hindu, Open page
We grew up in a traditional south Indian family that nurtured the values of education, ethics, unity, culture and charity. Right through the years of the last century, my grandfather's big family with his wife, five daughters and a son, had a tough time surviving. It was in the pre and post-independence era that the family realised the acute need for education for girls. In the quiet village of Kodumudi on the banks of the Cauvery in Tamil Nadu, I grew up with the flavour of education, agriculture, sports and moral values.
Pitchu Someswaran, the schoolmaster, was an embodiment of knowledge, selfless paropakara service and secular faith. His father Vembu Iyer, a true karmayogi, donated a part of his land to the London Mission School in 1930s and his mother Poochima was a noble lady. The talk of the town was the statement of the European Durai Reverend Father Populi of the Missionary, who wholeheartedly appreciated the act of the only Brahmin who donated to the Christian Mission. Only two schools existed then, Sri Sankara Vidyasala (SSV) High School and the London Mission School.
This year (2010-11) SSV is celebrating its diamond jubilee, while the London Mission School is fast crossing milestones. It was a time when the schoolmaster visited the homes of absenting students to inquire why. His neat handwritten notes of lessons often circulated among us and remained a specimen to all teachers on training. Pitchu master himself cooked tasty food for students and prepared milk when the Australian milk powder was widely distributed to schools during the Kamaraj regime. The visiting District Education Officer from Bhavani was the most satisfied soul who had seen the culmination of knowledge, service and love.
When Gandhiji addressed a gathering on our school grounds sitting on top of a lorry, his smile had real charisma. Singer-actor K.B. Sundarambal was a happy person to host parties to leaders and freedom fighters. My master never allowed us to indulge in freedom or political affairs and his strict command was a blinker on our career path. A mere pass in standard X was all that was needed to land government jobs.
Prior to independence, in 1945 though my fifth form (class X) had enough strength, only two girls enrolled. Of the two, one dropped out and the other Kunjamma passed in third class. Education for women was taboo. It was an uphill task to break the age old barrier, which he did successfully. Vidwan Sandanam Pillai, Deivasigamani Gownder, Dharmaraja Iyer, Sundaraja Iyer were noted teachers of Kodumudi who perfectly shaped the generations. To have a Bachelor of Oriental Language degree was a craze among linguists and language fanatics. Radio Periasamy, hotelier Thayirvadai Kuppanna, noble doctor Arumugam, bus driver Ramankutty Nair, midwife Raji and postman Duraisami were some indispensable characters of Kodumudi.
I recall with pleasure the moments of my boyhood days, schooling and the knowledge that I gained. Tuitions were never heard of unless required. I remember Pitchu master walking to the next village to teach my classmate for a rupee a month. Can we imagine this today when advance tuition fee is collected in five digits? The partially visible tuft, angavastram and an aged umbrella branded my master from a distance. In 1985, accolades and felicitations came upon the octogenarian when the then Archbishop of Canterbury visited the school. Like his father, Pitchu practised secularism and helped students of poor Muslims. Despite hailing from a lower middle class family, he helped others financially what was possible within his means and with whole heart.
Coincidentally, the reminiscence of my master has been around the corner when we are celebrating the Teacher's Day to honour our educators and acknowledge their crucial role in shaping every student into a promising citizen. It need not be construed that those teachers who were not honoured with colours by the government are not heroes. There will be a guiding teacher or a philosopher in everybody's life who had shown special interest to elevate the wisdom at every point of life.
Though Pitchu master has gone into history, his memories are sure to rejuvenate the nostalgia of old students like me who are past 70 and 80. I salute with respect the unsung heroes of the teaching community.
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*The Hindu, Openpage, Sep 11, 2011 (National edition) [Wrote in the name of my father K.P.Selvaraj]
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