Conversations!

'Listening well is as powerful as talking well, and is also as essential to true conversation!' says a Chinese proverb! Very well said; but in real life, we all know it is so rare to find this phenomenon. The reality is that 'no man will listen to your talk if he didn't know it was his turn next!', so goes another proverb!

Just try talking to anyone, even your close friend, about something. But do not mistake his silent gaze for his attention! He or she is just getting ready to tell you something , anything, which happened not yesterday or a week before, but maybe ten or fifteen years back! And it may not be relevant to what you are saying. You see, he is just waiting for his or her turn! I have a friend who also happens to be senior to me in rank and service. (I served in the army!). Whenever I cross him during my morning walks, I try to avoid him. Please do not misunderstand; he is very nice, a real gentleman. Only, I dare not open a conversation with him without the risk of his telling me a long story (for the nth time!) how he as a subaltern managed a party on a Sunday afternoon way back in 1963 at the last minute after his Commanding Officer on the spur of the moment, invited the Brigade commander to lunch after a game of golf!

I have another dear friend who shares with me our weakness for an occasional evening out, spent over a couple of drinks.  I look forward to meeting him once in a while when I am in a mood. 'After the rain the grass will grow, after wine, conversation'! True to this adage, we start off an evening full of promise. After a couple of drinks though, the conversation falters. My friend gets a little forgetful and then repeats a joke he has told  fifty times before, which is fine. But repeating it the same evening for the third time is a little too much, you will agree! Only a close friend can get away with this!

Friends come in many colors and flavors in terms of conversation. There are those jovial guys who will start with a big thump on your shoulder and such resounding hello 'what is happening man!', you almost collapse! Then the guy who shakes your hand so vigorously while asking 'how are you?', you fear a dislocation and almost answer, 'I will be fine if you just release my hand, Sir'! I have another friend who simply must discuss the political scene right there on the road side and give his expert opinion as to who will be the next prime minister and from which party! And of course, there are countless those who have to shed light on the subject of cricket and the inevitable great Sachin Tendulkar, and why it is high time he must hang up his boots and retire!

It is argued that men like to debate, a masculine trait; conversation is for the women, it is feminine! (Alcott). This implies that women are far better than men conversation wise. This reminds me of the lament of Rex Harrison (Prof Higgins in 'My Fair lady') when he sings, 'Why can't a woman be more like a man?' which is a total antithesis of this proposition in general terms. Seriously, enjoyable conversation is a treat which can be served and savored in any company. I marvel at those people, men and women who always talk in a soft voice, never raise it and yet hold listeners spell bound by virtue of their knowledge on a given subject and their sincerity.

Listening to children is one of the best rewards in the realm of conversation where you can easily forget that you are an adult and may be more knowledgeable. Though, don't be too sure! I treasure my very frequent conversations with my youngest grandchild who is barely eleven. The other day, he narrated to me about the mock election conducted in his class at his school in which he took part. He told me, he voted for Obama. 'Why did you do that?', I asked him. To which he replied, 'because he is always smiling'. In this election year in US, I wish things were so simple for adults! A few years back when he was just seven years of age, he explained to me very solemnly about formation of clouds and how it is followed by rains. He also educated me about the four seasons, summer, autumn, winter and spring, how they come and go in succession year after year.

All said and done, I feel that conversation with oneself is the best way to come to terms with life. Imagine the sheer volume of communication happening all round, whether on cell phones/phones, through TV shows, movies or when you are on your lap tops! Add to this the direct exchanges with real people, and a stage comes in our daily 24-hour cycle when we want to be left alone, away from this maddening world, even if for just a few minutes. We need this break to converse with oneself. Can you just walk away for a little while, for a one-to-one conversation , alone with yourself!

The Political Agent

This story dates back to the late 1940s just before India became independent from the British rule. I was barely ten years old. My father who was a doctor worked in a government hospital at a small town in North India which was also the capital of a tiny princely state. Once every month, this town had an important visitor, an Englishman, who was called 'Political Agent'. A tall, smart and very much a white guy, he looked very striking in his khaki shorts, a matching bush shirt and a solar hat. He would stay in the civil rest house for the duration of his visit which was usually about two days.

The Political Agent, represented nothing less than the King or Queen of England, our erstwhile supreme ruler! He would begin his day by first visiting the palace, the residence of our own King of this state, as a matter of courtesy. Having done with that formality, he would visit the main government institutions including the hospital where my father worked. I remember, he appeared very friendly as I discovered when I happened to go to my father's room in the hospital by sheer chance when he was visiting. He tried to shake my hands as I shied away from him. My father it seemed had jokingly told him that I was very fussy in my food habits and did not like vegetables. On this, he remarked to me in broken Hindi, 'do you want to be tall and fair like me? then you simply must eat vegetables' or words to that effect!

This particular visit of the Political Agent was going to be his last as the British had decided to pack up, unable to hold India any longer. The battle cry 'Quit India' of the Indian people led by Mahatma Gandhi was soon to become a reality. The people of this small town, just as a sort of a send off to the Political Agent, had managed to organize a football match between a team of English soldiers from a nearby garrison and our own local team. The Political Agent and our King of this state were to be the chief guests.

Now let me introduce to you to another person, a key character to this story, one Mahadev Singh, a teacher from our primary school. We all students of this school were simply shit scared of him, he was a very strict disciplinarian. Just to give you an idea, we would prefer to wet our pants than to ask for his permission to go to the loo during his class! In his early thirties, he was a good football player. He was the star player and captain of our ragged local team. The English team on the other hand was too just too good. Most of them were young six-footers and had beaten us by a dozen goals, couple of times in the past. So, this match was more of a ceremonial thing, nothing much was expected except some good, clean fun!

It was a Sunday afternoon when the match was to be played on the grounds of our High School. People arrived in festive mood to witness the event. In due time, the two teams reached the playground with the two referees. Soon after, our King and the Political agent arrived in the King's car. They took their seats, the referees signaled the start of the match with a long whistle. The match was on!

It appeared that our team was playing the game this day with a renewed fervor. Maybe, they were infused with the spirit of independence which was on the horizon. But,it was obvious that it was not going to be enough. The 'Tommies', as we called the English players would not give any quarter and soon were ahead with two goals against our team. Our players, much smaller in size and stamina as compared to their towering opponents, could barely take possession of the ball, but could not go anywhere near the goal posts of their opponents. And it was half time! What was remarkable though was that we had conceded only two goals in half time as against at least six on previous occasions!

As we waited for the match to resume, Mahadev Singh was seen  giving some pep talk to the team on the sidelines. As if they were regrouping! Would they respond to their captain with a more vigorous and positive play? The public waited, talking in  hushed tones, but with some expectations. The play resumed! The English were again on the offensive, made more forays in our team's area and then scored another goal. It was three-zero in favor of the English team and it looked like the same old story. The time was running out with no hopes of our team scoring at all!

It was barely couple of minutes from the final whistle when all of a sudden, to our amazement, Mahadev Singh broke loose with the ball. He dashed all by himself towards the English half and entered their goal area taking care that he was not judged offside. With a quick body swerve, he deceived the rushing goal keeper with a feint, and bang! He scored with his right foot shooting the ball into the English goal! It was magical, unbelievable that our boys could score a goal, did score a goal against the mighty English. It was full time now and the referee blew the final whistle with the scoreline three-one in favor of the English. But spectators shouted and danced as if we had won the game!

The inevitable prize distribution followed. The King gave away the winners cup to the English captain and the runners up cup to our captain. It was time now to award a special prize to the best player of the game. There was some whispered consultation between the King and the Political Agent. Then rose the Political Agent with a smile on his face to give away the special prize to the best player of the game. It was none other than our teacher, captain of our team, Mahadev Singh!

The Music Class

She fell in love with her music teacher on the very first day of the class! He was a tall, dark and handsome guy in his twenties, like they write about in romantic novels. And she was in the last of her teens, very vulnerable! He smiled more with his twinkling eyes. And when he taught music to this group of five youngsters, his soft voice had a magical effect. In short, he was irresistible to girls. He did two classes every Saturday of one hour each, one starting at 6 PM, and the next at 7 PM. Each course lasted for three months. Our heroine of this tale and her friends had joined the 6 PM class. The 7 PM class was meant for those who wished to continue for the next level.

The teacher had a regular job on week days which did not pay much. So, he was running these classes in his two-room apartment, basically to supplement his income. A struggling young man, he was just starting his life. He planned to marry later when he could afford it. His girl students often used to banter about it and ask leading questions. He parried them blushing a little, with answers like 'let me meet the right girl' & 'I will let you know as soon I meet my future wife'. She wondered if she could dream to be his future wife!

She actually started dreaming! She had almost a proprietorial attitude about his apartment when she visited there to attend the class. She had noticed that the two-room apartment needed drastic changes. It hardly had any furniture items worth the name and the curtains were most ill suited, very shabby. The so called kitchenette displayed a few pots and pans. The crockery was woefully inadequate, just a few cups, glasses and dishes with which her teacher could not have entertained even a couple of friends. And lesser said the better about his bedroom!

This simply must change, she thought! First thing which came to her mind was a sofa set, black in color and of leather with a small center table. A round dining table with four proper chairs is a must. This can occupy the small space close to the kitchen. He should also buy some decent crockery and cutlery. A set of six will be just fine. Let him have some packs of paper napkins too. And curtains could be of orange or brown shade with white parallels. That will give some class to his apartment. She wished similar things for the bedroom too. And yes, why not a small, inexpensive carpet in the living room? All these things will not cost him too  much! Moreover, these days banks gave loans for almost any purpose. What is the problem, she asked herself!

She also realized that very soon, next month, her music class will have finished the course. It would be time to say good bye to the teacher unless she decides to take the next one, the 7 PM class. And after two months of their association, he had no idea about fer feelings towards her! She had to gather courage and somehow let him know! She would do it in the next class which was her last, she promised herself. And then, the last Saturday of her class arrived. Today or never, it looked like!

When she arrived that Saturday for her class, she deliberately came almost half an hour before time. She needed some time to confide her thoughts and feelings for the teacher. As she approached the main entrance, she was a little surprised by a lot of cleaning activity by a couple of guys. What was happening she wondered as she entered. And then she was stunned to see the changes! She found the apartment freshly painted. Not only that, she was greeted with the sight of a black, leather sofa set with a center table. There was a carpet too. And in the corner near the kitchen, there was that round dining table with four chairs around it. The kitchen counter, she saw was clean and tidy. On the shelf, there were new dishes, cups and glasses. And the apartment's door and windows had brown curtains with matching lining. She saw practically everything which she had imagined for the place! Was she dreaming?

How come this happened? Was it a case of telepathy, she wondered! And then he emerged from the bedroom. 'Oh, you have come early today' he exclaimed. 'Please have a seat and do not mind this last minute activity', he continued. She was tongue tied but managed to ask him about this sudden uplift of the place. He smiled rather shyly and then said, 'well, you will be the first person with whom I am sharing some good news. You remember how you and others used to tease me about my single status and about my marriage? You will be happy to know that I met my future wife exactly three months before. She had just graduated from my 6 PM class and had joined the 7 PM class. It was not a case of love at first sight as we met off and on for three months. It was rather gradual and then we decided to get married. But only on one condition, she had said. 'I am giving you three months to get your place properly cleaned up, ready and fit for a married couple. Only then, we will get married'! And she had given me a list with guidelines as to what she expected. 'I just followed her instructions. I barely managed to meet her deadline! We are getting married in a month's time. Of course, you  all, my students will be invited', he concluded.

The teacher then asked her as to why she came early. She replied that she will not be able to attend this last class for some reason and wanted to personally inform him. 'Does not matter' he said, 'I will arrange an extra class for you to make up'. And then he suggested if she would like to join the 7 PM class for the next level. "Not really', she replied enigmatically, 'It is rather late for that. You see, I do not want to join the wrong class for the second time'!

When the wife is away!

I had just returned from the airport after seeing off my wife who flew to another town on a week's trip to meet her relatives. As I entered my little condo, I looked forward to a week of total freedom. I was excited, I was free to do whatever was in or on my mind or just to laze around, do nothing! I savored that strange feeling of being an absolutely free man ready to indulge in whatever took my fancy. Yahoo! as Shammi Kapoor would have shouted!


Now for heaven's sake, do not start thinking of such silly proverbs like 'when the cat is away, mice play'. My wife is no cat and I am certainly not a mouse! Regardless, I had already made a vague list of things to do when she would be away. Nothing wild, just some modest yearnings of a much married man when the wife is not around!


 It was evening time now and it was the right time to take stock of the 'list'! The first and foremost of course was to have a drink without having to ask her 'if you do not mind!' and I proceeded to do that exactly! Then I looked at the TV which was never at my disposal for the simple reason that we have only one set and my wife makes full use of it What she watches does not interest me,  those loud and boring family serials of mostly women loaded with ornaments, screaming and shouting at each other for whatever reasons the writer and director provided! Now it was my turn! I was free for a whole week to watch my favorites which I will have to look for! News of course and cricket? And may be some sitcoms if you please!


Tomorrow I must go for a hair cut, 'one of my favorite things' as Julie Andrews or was it Audrey Hepburn crooned. This is one thing about which I am always cut up with my dear wife. Whenever I talk of my hair cut, she is at her sarcastic best with remarks like 'where are the hair?!' or 'let the hair grow another fortnight, why waste your hard earned money for nothing!' meaning no hair! If she has her way, she will make my hair cut a six monthly affair except that I have no intention of looking like some arty creep, given my army background!


Before she left on this trip, she had cooked enough dishes for me and kept them in the refrigerator so that I do not go hungry when she is away. Very thoughtful of her, I agree! But then this was my only chance to go out and eat. When we are together, she very rarely agrees to do that. She starts talking of money which we will pay, the amount in which she will make ten delicious dishes to last us for many days, she argues. She is right I know, but then we miss the fun, I try to tell her. She rarely gives way. Nevertheless, I have decided to eat out at least thrice come what may. Time to be firm in life, I pat myself!


What was the next item on the list, I try to recollect. Golf, yes! Only snag is with whom I will play! I have just a couple of friends who play this game. Will they be available? Two games in one week will be fine. I just can not afford more! Next day, I called them. As I had feared, they were busy with some social commitments. Their wives have not gone away for any reason, how sad! I decided to go alone and join some group like many people do. 


I love to go to a library to read. That is one place where I literally forget to keep track of time. I planned to go there every morning or evening considering that afternoons are reserved for my naps. Nothing like books and magazines to read for a person so inclined. I embarked on this with great satisfaction, more so because I did not have to return home in a rush, my wife being away.


So far so good! But I was barely in the middle of the week and I could not see or think of the next item to 'do' in my much vaunted 'list'. I was almost in a panic! Is that all I looked forward to in this week of my 'freedom'?! I had already seen some TV which was enough. My haircut was done, the next nowhere in sight! I barely ate out twice, thankfully returning to the dishes my wife kept in the fridge, cursing the food these restaurants serve! I did have a game of golf. And frankly, going to library was getting monotonous. That is all? What next? What the hell was the matter with me?


The truth was that I was already getting bored of my 'freedom' and was missing my wife! So when she called this evening to say that she had changed her plans of staying with her relatives for the full week, and was returning tomorrow, I could not hide my joy. 'Why, what happened' I asked nevertheless. She said nothing except that she was bored and was missing me! God bless her!

MY INFINITE WARDROBE

You may wonder as to what I mean by 'my infinite wardrobe'! Assuming you will be interested, I wish to share my thoughts about the limited wardrobe at my disposal which nevertheless has stood me in good stead over the last fifty years or so of my adult life. And when I say 'limited ward robe', I really mean it. You wont have to count the items much beyond the fingers of one hand. I am sure, this will strike a chord in the hearts of my male contemporaries. I am deliberately using the word 'male' here. It goes without saying that women are totally a different breed as far as their wardrobe is concerned. It will continue to dazzle and bewilder men in general  and it is beyond   an ordinary man's imagination to even try to describe it!

Allow me to stick to the main subject of my wardrobe! I remember the time, when as a young man, I entered college, the romantic world of the young with immense possibilities besides education, mainly hopeful encounters with the fair sex! You wanted to look smart, at least better than the next guy who somehow appeared to command better attention than yours truly! I knew I was partly to blame for this situation, assuming that we were otherwise playing on a level field in terms of our looks and ability to be coherent without missing too many heartbeats, while trying to make conversation with girls. It was elementary that to start with, I should make some effort to wear clothes of the prevailing fashion if I had any hopes on that count!

And that brings me to the crux of the matter! You see, I was invariably behind my times in my choice of clothes, old fashioned really whatever it means considering that I was still in my teens! I was pretty backward. I pretended to be indifferent but lacked common sense or was plain lazy, I am not sure. I think  I just lacked the courage to change with the winds of change. And by the time I gathered enough guts to fall in line, I found myself once again at the end of the line!

 Forgive me if my sequence about clothing is a little muddled.  I distinctly recollect  the days when the bell bottoms style of pants made their first appearance. They looked so silly to me! I ignored this new fad and continued to wear the standard, 'straight' pants. But I knew that this will not take me anywhere. I could clearly see the pitying glances girls gave me. Boys were more forthright making fun of me at the first opportunity. Some even called me 'Uncle'! Then I knew, enough was enough and became bold! I went out to buy my first ever piece of a pair of bell bottoms and then bought one more. And for the next six months or so, I strutted around in those bell bottoms showing off to whosoever cared to look in my direction!


 Very soon though, I realized that my newly acquired pants were already on the way out. I had washed the bell bottoms barely a few times since I bought them and the next 'new' were already on the horizon. It was the advent of the drain pipe style of pants. Life was certainly not fair, I thought! I remained a straggler of sorts and bravely continued to wear my two bell bottoms alternately. But there was this niggling anxiety at the back of my mind. When will it be my day to turn to the drain pipes! Well, it came soon enough but not really!

As I ventured to buy a pair of drain pipe pants, I discovered that there was very little choice. Are they already part of history, I thought with a sinking feeling! But clueless as ever, I bought a couple which fitted me. It was another year or so, and  lo and behold, the simple straight pants of the past were coming back and how! As a new fashion! Lucky me, thank heavens I had not thrown away my original ones! Let me not bore you with my travails about shirts I chose and wore with those blasted pants. Suffice it to say that here too, my selection was very narrow and boring! 


As I was coming to the end of this 'battle of pants', something very momentous happened in my life. I joined the army! On my commission day as an officer at the Indian Military Academy (IMA), I wore my army uniform, the olive greens or OG for the first time. It is impossible to catch in words the thrill of those moments! For once, I was oblivious to the mundane things of life like what to wear! I did not realize that from now on-wards till I retire, I was going to wear this smart outfit day in and day out whenever on duty, never missing those pants and shirts of my civilian days. The swagger it brought to my walk and the spring to my steps was never there before! Did I walk on the clouds?! It was a wonderful time, it became my proud privilege to be in my OGs whenever appropriate!


Of course, I had some essential civvies which included a suit of grey color and a couple of matching ties. Thanks to the army regimen, I managed to remain in reasonable shape. The suit, with minor alterations, served me for many, many years. Yes, I acquired one more suit of blue color when I got married. But I suppose, that is mandatory for a guy who wants to get married!


Another generation gone, I had retired from the army and went back to my civvies full time! It was with huge regret that I hung up my beloved OG army uniform which I will never wear again. It was a farewell which made me very sad! 


Back to civil life, I bought my first T shirt when I was in my fifties and that too because I was getting ready for my first ever visit to the land of Uncle Sam, I mean the US, to meet our daughter who had gone there for her Masters. I wanted once again to compete with my fellow men to look smart and 'mod' if that is the right word! A few more visits to US and I sensed that I was getting left out AGAIN unless I quickly made the leap to the universal world of jeans. This time, I did not hesitate too much and made up my mind quickly in favor of this wonderful garment! The jeans aided by a couple of T shirts have finally liberated me from the mental tyranny of having to choose the right kind of wardrobe. And not me alone, it has done this to men and women of all ages all over the world. For me, this is my ultimate 'infinite wardrobe'!


But wait a moment! There is only one little thing now where I have to make up my mind before it is too late, considering that I am in my seventies. What should be the right length of my shorts if I choose to wear them for a game of tennis or just for a morning walk??!!

The Summer Camp of 1999

It was the late nineties when I was working at a private residential military school on the west coast of Maharashtra. I had just retired from the army, but was not really 'old & retired'! In my fifties, I joined this school as its administrative head, the Commandant. It was a high school run by a trust. It was called a 'military school' just because, in addition to the regular curriculum, the students were given basic military training like PT, drill, horse riding and firing weapons (with air guns only!). For this purpose, a few retired army personnel drawn from the area were employed as part of the staff.

Like other schools, this school too was closed during summer holidays. It used to be a long break of more than 2 months. Regular students would go home for the summer holidays. But the whole infrastructure, the school building, the dormitories, gardens and horses had to be maintained. Minimum staff had to be kept for this purpose. All that cost money. So, we used to run two summer camps, making full use of the existing facilities. These camps were of about 3 weeks duration each and catered for about a hundred boys and girls of the age group of 12 to 17 years. Needless to say, we charged good money for this activity.

It was normal practice to advertise these camps in the news- papers well in advance. Their popularity could be gauged from the fact that the camps were always oversubscribed in no time. Our camp activities which included basic military training mentioned above, were a great hit for the city boys and girls. There used to be a virtual scramble for the 100 odd vacancies.

All camps began with my address to all the campers, welcoming them and broadly telling them about the program and what was expected of them. The emphasis was on discipline, good conduct and healthy competition. For ease of communication, command and control, we had the system of appointing captains for boys and girls. The normal practice was to select the senior most in age, for this purpose. Boys and girls were accommodated in separate dormitories. We had male and female wardens for boys and girls who oversaw their general conduct and behavior.

The camp routine started at 6 am sharp every day when all the campers assembled at the parade ground. A 30 minute vigorous PT was conducted by the school army staff. This was followed by breakfast in the mess. The time from breakfast to lunch was used for other activities like drill, weapons training and class room lectures. After lunch and a break of about two hours, we had horse riding and games in batches. For all activities, boys and girls were suitably grouped age wise.

In the evening we had the roll call which accounted for all campers, their physical presence and wellbeing. Respective captains of boys and girls had to give a small written report at the roll call. Any unusual incident during the day will be mentioned in the report for my knowledge and necessary action. Dinner was served soon after. Finally, it was bed time and lights out, sharp at 9 pm, under the supervision of the wardens.

The success of every summer camp depended on the performance of all the staff, their dedication and sincerity. For this, I had assembled a team which included the instructional staff, mainly the retired army staff, some other essential personnel and a couple of teachers, male and female. All of them would be paid an honorarium at the end of the camp. My right hand man in this venture was a young teacher, Mr Ranganathan. A quiet, sensitive and serious minded person barely 25 years of age, he was very sincere and extremely loyal to me. I could depend upon him in any given situation. He would report to me every night to apprise me of all major activities. This was essential as it was not possible for me to be everywhere during the camp.

This summer camp of 1999 took off on the laid down guidelines. We had about 105 boys and girls attending it. The captains for the boys and girls were selected. They were Rakesh and Seema, both about 17 years of age, smart and cheerful youngsters. After my opening address, they were suitably briefed by me about their duties and responsibilities in the presence of Mr Ranganatham. Mr Ranganatham hailed from Tamilnadu. He was a bachelor and confided in me that soon after the camp, he would be going home to get married. He also had some vague plans to join his brother in Singapore. I wondered if he would come back. Regardless, I was happy for him!

After the camp was two weeks old, one evening, Mr Ranganathan came to my residence with his usual report. There was something in his manner which told me that something unusual had happened. I asked him as to what was the matter. He looked a little agitated and then said, ‘Sir, I think there is something going on between the two captains, Rakesh and Seema’. I asked him to explain. He then told me that while taking rounds of the dormitories after 9 pm the previous night, he noticed that both the captains were out in the dark, near the mess building. They were softly talking and laughing. Suddenly, when they noticed him, they made some excuse and went back to their dormitories.

What Mr Rangnathan told me was disturbing as it was against the discipline and rules of the camp. Worse, the campers involved were the captains who were supposed to follow all the rules. Their being out together after 9 pm was not acceptable! Still I advised Mr Ranganathan not to see too much in to it and asked him to wait and watch the situation for a couple of days. In my heart, I prayed that the last week of the camp passes of smoothly. Next morning, when I saw both the captions taking part in the day’s routine, I did not show that anything was amiss or in my knowledge. They for their part did the same but appeared guarded.

During the day, I kept on thinking and observing. More closely, I observed the senior most group of boys and girls, those of 16 to 17 years of age. I noticed their happiness, thrill and excitement of being together in the camp. The way they laughed and shouted after each competition or match was so infectious! I also felt that even if kids, just adolescent, they were so close to the affairs of the heart. Is it the hormones doing the trick, already knocking at the doors of teen-hood, I wondered!

It appeared that the last week of the camp was going to be fine. Mr. Ranganathan did not say anything about the captains or their behavior during the week. Out of sheer curiosity, when I asked him point blank about them, he said, ‘Sir, everything is OK! I have spoken to both of them at length and they understand!’. I was more than relieved to hear this.

Finally, it was the last day of the camp. In the evening, campers presented a variety entertainment program consisting of skits, songs and music with such gusto and energy; it was simply great, considering their ages and the limited time in which they prepared for it. At the end, there was prize distribution and my final address.

Next morning which was Sunday, was the day of dispersal. All the campers had packed their belongings, taken their clearance certificates and were ready to leave. All boys and girls came to my office to say good bye which was touching! Last but not the least, both the captains, Rakesh and Seema met me and apologized to me for any lapses and mistakes they might committed! I was very moved by their gesture and wished them best in life!

After the campers had dispersed, I called for a meeting of all my staff who had assisted me in running the camp. I thanked and congratulated all of them. I especially mentioned the name of Mr Ranganathan who was going home to get married. I hoped, he would come back to school in the next session. As luck would have it, I myself could not continue with the school for personal reasons. I resigned and moved to my base in Pune.

 After about 5 years or so, one fine day I got a call from Mr Ranganathan. It was nice to hear his voice. He told me that he got married a year back and wanted to come to our place with his wife, to meet us. I congratulated him and asked him where he lived these days. He said, they lived in Singapore now. Good, please come and have lunch with us, I told him. Around lunch time, our doorbell rang. I opened the door to greet Mr Ranganathan and his newly wedded wife, who was none other than Seema, the same girl who was the girls’ captain in the summer camp of 1999!