May 21, 2012
I failed in Class one when I was six, and again at 14 in Class 8th! Now that sort of aberration should keep me far behind the achievements of many a “Daiji” of mine in this world – I suppose? Ironically, however, am proud of this, for I always preferred to listen to what my father had to teach at our shop to what Eugine teacher with sticks and bursts at school. Those were the days when one was more concerned with the farm, fields and petty shops than about studies. It was the time of Aden and Persia, Dubai was far off from germinating.
We had a shop in the village and it was dearer to me than my school. Father too was happy if I was close at hand, for he was a large hearted man and would prod me on to help for all the delicacies in our shop. “You are a growing boy, eat well”, he would say, and I never failed to please him or rather please us. Moreover he had an alert pupil in me and he loved to teach me English of his own, and we blended well as teacher and an earnest pupil.
Every week he would take me to Hampankatta and Bunder, even on week days, much to the chagrin of Eugine teacher but I liked that? He would walk briskly there, answering countless salutes all the way and I was his little lamb that went wherever my father would be on a rendezvous.
The moment we touched Hampankatta, he would make for Taj Hotel and my tiny steps would get electrified and lead him to a cozy corner to feast over the dishes he would order. “Eat son, you are a growing boy, eat well,” he would croon, and I would at once respond positively to this music. If I said “I like “wada sambaar” he would at once order two plates for each of us and we both would gormandize over it, and all the while he would say, “It is very nourishing, why don’t you help yourself for another plate? After all you are a growing boy.” And do you think I would ever let this offer go to waste? No, Never. Not that I loved my father any less for all this feeding, but more because he had an uncanny gift of imparting knowledge of his own English to almost all the customers trouping into our shop from far flung areas. This teaching would stand way ahead of all that I learned from Eugine Teacher. Corporal punishment was having a feast day then,
and I feasted on it quite liberally too.
I do not know how much my father studied, but I know that he had gone to St. Aloysius College and could speak some smattering English and I was proud of that: a scholar in the village!
He would happily reveal about the mystery of the English language. He never cared if his listeners would understand him or not but it gave him immense pleasure to propagate his knowledge. He would say, “Accept, accept, accept” and then give a hearty laugh, and begin to spell out, “accept, except, expect” and narrate the meaning to his ‘class’ of customers and they all would wonder as to how this little head of his could contain so much of wisdom as he went on explaining the different meaning of each word that sounded the same. They would gleefully look at each other and I would always be an active listener in this jolly good game of his. Every “class” of his would end with a hearty laughter by the “teacher” and the “taught” and I was invariably an active participant in this laughter, very often little knowing what I was laughing for?
He would exhort upon me the virtues of knowing English and advise me to be an English teacher in the village and teach that language. Looking back now, I feel it wasn’t a bad idea at all. As I grew up I could not get over what my father took most delight in
saying: “I am blessed with five children” was his quotable quote to all those Government officials who would come and camp in the spacious room in our shop. That was in 1947 when I had a run of four sisters after me. I could feel that echo of his voice even now - “I am blessed with five children”- and his blessings went on multiplying up, until 1960 by which time he was blessed with eleven children when my late singer brother Ivan was born, and he would proclaim to one and all of this God’s bounty showered upon him. Little did he know then that he was virtually blessed into poverty!
He would often advise me to learn at least four words in English each day, and I would never fail to please him by doing what made him happy. (This suggestion of his, I liked the most and I imparted it to my children too that has worked wonders, and the readers might as well take a note of this.).
I read quite a few papers, magazines and even books. My father would happily watch me reading, and remained quite contented. I realized that I had gone wrong while making use of the following words and learned how to use them better. Loose – the nut is loose and it needs tightening. Whereas, Lose – I do not want to lose my friendship with Wilma, the pretty daughter of our Gurkaraam.
There – I will never go there again, for it is Wilma’s house and my father has forbidden me to go there! Their – It is their fault and not my father’s and why should they blame my dad? Choose and chose were one and the same to me earlier, and then realized that “chose” was the past tense.
I used to wonder what the difference was there between words such as meter and metre, and center and centre. Later on I realized while the former word is spelled in American English the latter is spelled in U.K. English.
Soon I learned “yours faithfully” and not “your’s faithfully” is the right way to end a letter. Thereon it was now clear to me the difference between, it’s and its’. It’s means “it is” and “its’” means something that belongs to it.
So, slowly and steadily what my father nurtured in me began to bear fruit and the love that I bore for him began to reflect in what he loved to teach and I continued to carry on his legacy to my heart’s delight as it always kept him closer to my heart.
Subsequently I found that “I use to write “is wrong and the correct usage is “I used to”. Finally, I must admit that it took an inordinate time to master the difference between ‘present continuous’ and ‘present perfect continuous’. Thanks to my father’s teaching and preaching, the love that I bore for him surely went to reflect in my penchant to learn quite a bit of English and I found that I could also learn prepositions easily.
Even after my studies, I preferred to be with my father and help run his business but he would have nothing of it. This brought about a lot of pain to me and we both started drifting apart and the years passed by. He remained in the village and I went on moving from place to place like a vagabond but carried on his heart’s delight: the love for English language.
Now that my father is no more, I feel the only way I can remain grateful to him and continue his legacy is to do what he loved the best – learn and help others learn. Whenever I visit Mangalore, my wife and I go and clean his grave, and light a bundle of the choicest candles and spread a whole lot of his favourite jasmine flowers on his grave and pray that his soul may rest in everlasting peace in heaven.
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