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Gudur, May 18, 1979; Red Letter Night:
This is about my First Night.
As I am no Salvadore Dali, don't expect a Tall Tale of my Prowess.
If you watch the date and place listed above, and happen to have an Atlas with you, you will figure out that the Summer Sun is at its zenith there that day. And there was a devastating summer cyclone a few days back and so it was unbearably hot and humid.
I had a prolonged Ph D under my belt but also three pending Loans and so had to postpone my marriage by 6 long months till at least one of them is cleared so I could feed us two (don't believe all that gul about two can live as cheaply as one...).
My wife had an M D under her whatever it is that replaces belt and so could diagnose my precarious condition.
I was 36 (my father being a retired HM of a Govt School of the Nehru Era was too scared to lie and so I trust him). My wife insists she was just 29 (her granpa was a retired Civil Engineer with the Tungabhadra Dam in its heydays and so is suspect as far as facts and figures go).
So ours was not exactly a child marriage prohibited under the Sharda Act.
Around midnight when all the formalities were gone through, we both walked hand in hand upstairs to the Honeymoon Room (specially built for that purpose...we were seven siblings). Hand in Hand because the steps were narrow and steep and my wife was no giant and had a recent ankle fracture, I didn't verify...
We closed the door and were about to make up when there was this gentle tap on the door.
Both of us were surprised and on duly opening the door I found my father trembling with a telegram in his hands and a ruddy blush on his face.
The Express Telegram read:
"Send Third Year Grand Viva Marks urgently stop Tabulation held up stop Senate Meeting on 30th..HoD Physics".
I crumpled the telegram and told my father I will reply tomorrow.
My father had a paper and pen in his hand and wasn't moving (HMs of the Nehru Era were like that). And he was worried my job would go and he had to feed the two of us on his meager pension.
So I scribbled: "Viva Marks with the Viva Board Chairman...gps"
My father said so many sorries and left...for the Post Office, I am sure.
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On my return to the Department post-honeymoon I asked my roommate DB what the matter was. He said smiling that Raamda, the Chairman of the Viva Board was used to wearing dhoti-punajbies and the Marks List with our 3 signatures was washermanned, as the best guess went.
I then barged into the HoD's Office and banged him for disturbing me and my father on my honeynight on such an obvious matter....Viva Marks are the responsibility of the Viva Board Chairman...period...
The HoD demurred and said that Raamda says he left for the SBI midway and that I was in charge. I replied that Raamda bloody well returned in 10 minutes and in any case the Chairman had no business to quit the Viva Room without collecting his Marks List.
After some humming and hawing by him I proposed to the HoD that since the Grand Viva of the outgoing B Sc (Hons) students couldn't be bloody well conducted again without making it into The Statesman, I could help by giving out the marks of the 12 students from memory; but in no case would I sign it....it had to go under Raamda's signature.
The HoD agreed to talk to Raamda, with a sigh of deep relief.
It so happened that Raamda never taught this batch nor did the newcomer Prof S; while I had taught them in all their three years and knew the kids like the back of my palm.
Before an hour went by, MSS met me and told me that Raamda, 20 years senior to me but that much more naughty, is spreading that:
"gps left for honeymoon and so did the marks.....gps returned from the honeymoon and so did the marks!"
Before 2 minutes ticked, the newcomer Prof S met me and confirmed Raamda's gag.
It was a matter of another 5 minutes before Raamda walked into our Room to take dictation of the 12 marks (there were no grades then).
Myself and Prof S, under the gleeful winks of DB, told Raamda bluntly that marks would be delivered to him from memory as he reads the Names and Roll Numbers iff (if and only if) he writes in his own hand and signs on a piece of white paper that:
"gps and Prof S are not responsible for the loss of the Grand Viva Mark Sheet which I lost to the Dhobhi Ghat...RGC".
Raamda scowled and got up as to go away....
But sat down again with dark mutterings about gps and his bloody tricks, and said:
"Give me a bloody piece of paper and pen!".
*************************************************************************************************
I wonder if Prof S still has that Confessional Statement of Raamda with his handsome writing and his million dollar autograph.....
I had shared Office with Raamda for 2 years earlier on and can vouch that he is one of the two best teachers of his generation (MSS is the other) and a perfect gentleman bhadralog, but prone to joking...
...but Grand Viva Marks are not funny especially if they break your long-awaited honeynight...
============================================================
...Posted by Ishani
Gudur, May 18, 1979; Red Letter Night:
This is about my First Night.
As I am no Salvadore Dali, don't expect a Tall Tale of my Prowess.
If you watch the date and place listed above, and happen to have an Atlas with you, you will figure out that the Summer Sun is at its zenith there that day. And there was a devastating summer cyclone a few days back and so it was unbearably hot and humid.
I had a prolonged Ph D under my belt but also three pending Loans and so had to postpone my marriage by 6 long months till at least one of them is cleared so I could feed us two (don't believe all that gul about two can live as cheaply as one...).
My wife had an M D under her whatever it is that replaces belt and so could diagnose my precarious condition.
I was 36 (my father being a retired HM of a Govt School of the Nehru Era was too scared to lie and so I trust him). My wife insists she was just 29 (her granpa was a retired Civil Engineer with the Tungabhadra Dam in its heydays and so is suspect as far as facts and figures go).
So ours was not exactly a child marriage prohibited under the Sharda Act.
Around midnight when all the formalities were gone through, we both walked hand in hand upstairs to the Honeymoon Room (specially built for that purpose...we were seven siblings). Hand in Hand because the steps were narrow and steep and my wife was no giant and had a recent ankle fracture, I didn't verify...
We closed the door and were about to make up when there was this gentle tap on the door.
Both of us were surprised and on duly opening the door I found my father trembling with a telegram in his hands and a ruddy blush on his face.
The Express Telegram read:
"Send Third Year Grand Viva Marks urgently stop Tabulation held up stop Senate Meeting on 30th..HoD Physics".
I crumpled the telegram and told my father I will reply tomorrow.
My father had a paper and pen in his hand and wasn't moving (HMs of the Nehru Era were like that). And he was worried my job would go and he had to feed the two of us on his meager pension.
So I scribbled: "Viva Marks with the Viva Board Chairman...gps"
My father said so many sorries and left...for the Post Office, I am sure.
**************************************************************************************************
On my return to the Department post-honeymoon I asked my roommate DB what the matter was. He said smiling that Raamda, the Chairman of the Viva Board was used to wearing dhoti-punajbies and the Marks List with our 3 signatures was washermanned, as the best guess went.
I then barged into the HoD's Office and banged him for disturbing me and my father on my honeynight on such an obvious matter....Viva Marks are the responsibility of the Viva Board Chairman...period...
The HoD demurred and said that Raamda says he left for the SBI midway and that I was in charge. I replied that Raamda bloody well returned in 10 minutes and in any case the Chairman had no business to quit the Viva Room without collecting his Marks List.
After some humming and hawing by him I proposed to the HoD that since the Grand Viva of the outgoing B Sc (Hons) students couldn't be bloody well conducted again without making it into The Statesman, I could help by giving out the marks of the 12 students from memory; but in no case would I sign it....it had to go under Raamda's signature.
The HoD agreed to talk to Raamda, with a sigh of deep relief.
It so happened that Raamda never taught this batch nor did the newcomer Prof S; while I had taught them in all their three years and knew the kids like the back of my palm.
Before an hour went by, MSS met me and told me that Raamda, 20 years senior to me but that much more naughty, is spreading that:
"gps left for honeymoon and so did the marks.....gps returned from the honeymoon and so did the marks!"
Before 2 minutes ticked, the newcomer Prof S met me and confirmed Raamda's gag.
It was a matter of another 5 minutes before Raamda walked into our Room to take dictation of the 12 marks (there were no grades then).
Myself and Prof S, under the gleeful winks of DB, told Raamda bluntly that marks would be delivered to him from memory as he reads the Names and Roll Numbers iff (if and only if) he writes in his own hand and signs on a piece of white paper that:
"gps and Prof S are not responsible for the loss of the Grand Viva Mark Sheet which I lost to the Dhobhi Ghat...RGC".
Raamda scowled and got up as to go away....
But sat down again with dark mutterings about gps and his bloody tricks, and said:
"Give me a bloody piece of paper and pen!".
*************************************************************************************************
I wonder if Prof S still has that Confessional Statement of Raamda with his handsome writing and his million dollar autograph.....
I had shared Office with Raamda for 2 years earlier on and can vouch that he is one of the two best teachers of his generation (MSS is the other) and a perfect gentleman bhadralog, but prone to joking...
...but Grand Viva Marks are not funny especially if they break your long-awaited honeynight...
============================================================
...Posted by Ishani
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