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In our childhood in the 1940s we were first taught our mother tongue both at home and in school, unlike Ishani and her 'daddy'. English came in Class VI. Well, we were no worse except that we couldn't speak like them with a 'convent accent' which is neither here nor there anyway.
The first encyclopedia we were asked to buy was the famous Pedda Bala Shiksha (PBS...Big Kids Trainer...big Trainer not big Kids). The first printed PBS is reputed to have appeared in the 1850s, a good century before us. It was a thin 78-page affair. Since then hundreds of PBSs have appeared in print...we as a nation didn't have a copyright convention those days. In that sense, the title: PBS was like any Almanac (Panchangam or Panjika). The latest one is a 1000-page monster.
Our PBS was slim enough at around 100 pages. It started with the Telugu script, which, like that of any other Sanskrit-based lipi, is a terror. It had more than 50 alphabet and a thousand weird conjuncts. English alphabet came as a breeze.
Thereafter PBS evolved into several streams. It had simple words and poems which we were asked to memorize. Then came grammar and prosody. By the way, I mastered the prosody of a simple 4-line stanza called Aata Veladi. Even now I ask Telugu pundits to give me a theme and challenge them that I can come up with an impromptu Aaata Veladi with the correct prosody in ten minutes. That is what happens when you learn something you like as a kid.
Then PBS led to children's stories and fables from Panchatantra. And stories from Ramayan and Mahabharat that stuck.
And then the numbers. Indians invented the zero, no! So, we have not only equivalents to millions and billions but even more...more...more...
For instance, 10*7 is called koti. Then on, for every extra power *5 of 10 there are names like sanku, mahasanku, vrinda, mahavrinda, padma, mahapadma, kharva, mahakharva, samudra, ogha, mahaugha...the last one being 10*62. Then they were happy to let go. Poor Avagadro Number was only 10*23 (equivalent to a measly ten vrinda...strictly a rung below lower middle class).
We then had to mug up names of all the 60 Telugu years listed in PBS. Don't be sacred...I am not going to list them all...just to show what kids can rote:
Prabhava, Vibhava, Shukla, Pramoduta, Prajotpatti...Raktakshi, Krodahna, Akshaya...that's all...the cycle then repeats.
For us kids the most interesting section of the PBS was the Lizard-Falling-Science. Our houses were full of insects and so too lizards...ecology. And very often these terrorosaurs used to drop on us when we opened a door...they were taken unawares...not their fault. They would of course do us no harm and run away helter-skelter. So too did we to our PBS. For, it had two lists, one for males and the other for females, predicting what is in store for us depending on where on our body the damn thing landed.
For males, for instance, if the lizard falls on our head, we are in a for a petty quarrel:
Shir....kalaham
For females on the other hand, the same lizard falling on the same spot would indicate the much more serious marana-sankatam (threat for life).
Watch your heads, ladies!
The list is fairly exhaustive...it has 25 places on which the thing can land..some of them quite inaccessible for humans to fall on but not for lizards...like:
Lower lip...Dhana labham (awaiting riches) for men...and Nutana vastu labham (new acquisitions) women...some parity there.
There is provision for asymmetry...men have whiskers while women have...ahem...
Then we proceed to the exhaustive lists of what happens if you were born with indelible moles (birth-marks) depending on where you have them.
That leads to stripping more often than not, like that gambler.
That PJ is worth repeating:
This chappie was the most trustworthy and efficient employee except that he had a weakness for petty betting. When he was selected for a higher post under a new employer, he needed a reco from his older one. The reco was in a sealed cover and went like this:
"This chap is an excellent recruit except that he has a weakness for betting..."
The new employer read it and wanted to teach him a lesson and so challenged him. And this chappie countered him saying:
"I bet $100 that you have a mole on your right thigh"
His new boss was sure he didn't have it on his right but on his left. So, he thought he would teach him a lesson and unzipped his pants. And the chappie accepted his defeat and forked out a $100 bill.
And his new boss scolded him:
"Let this be a lesson for you..."
"No, sir...I bet my ex-boss $500 that I would make you strip within 5 minutes of your reading his reco"
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In our childhood in the 1940s we were first taught our mother tongue both at home and in school, unlike Ishani and her 'daddy'. English came in Class VI. Well, we were no worse except that we couldn't speak like them with a 'convent accent' which is neither here nor there anyway.
Our PBS was slim enough at around 100 pages. It started with the Telugu script, which, like that of any other Sanskrit-based lipi, is a terror. It had more than 50 alphabet and a thousand weird conjuncts. English alphabet came as a breeze.
Thereafter PBS evolved into several streams. It had simple words and poems which we were asked to memorize. Then came grammar and prosody. By the way, I mastered the prosody of a simple 4-line stanza called Aata Veladi. Even now I ask Telugu pundits to give me a theme and challenge them that I can come up with an impromptu Aaata Veladi with the correct prosody in ten minutes. That is what happens when you learn something you like as a kid.
Then PBS led to children's stories and fables from Panchatantra. And stories from Ramayan and Mahabharat that stuck.
And then the numbers. Indians invented the zero, no! So, we have not only equivalents to millions and billions but even more...more...more...
For instance, 10*7 is called koti. Then on, for every extra power *5 of 10 there are names like sanku, mahasanku, vrinda, mahavrinda, padma, mahapadma, kharva, mahakharva, samudra, ogha, mahaugha...the last one being 10*62. Then they were happy to let go. Poor Avagadro Number was only 10*23 (equivalent to a measly ten vrinda...strictly a rung below lower middle class).
We then had to mug up names of all the 60 Telugu years listed in PBS. Don't be sacred...I am not going to list them all...just to show what kids can rote:
Prabhava, Vibhava, Shukla, Pramoduta, Prajotpatti...Raktakshi, Krodahna, Akshaya...that's all...the cycle then repeats.
For us kids the most interesting section of the PBS was the Lizard-Falling-Science. Our houses were full of insects and so too lizards...ecology. And very often these terrorosaurs used to drop on us when we opened a door...they were taken unawares...not their fault. They would of course do us no harm and run away helter-skelter. So too did we to our PBS. For, it had two lists, one for males and the other for females, predicting what is in store for us depending on where on our body the damn thing landed.
For males, for instance, if the lizard falls on our head, we are in a for a petty quarrel:
Shir....kalaham
For females on the other hand, the same lizard falling on the same spot would indicate the much more serious marana-sankatam (threat for life).
Watch your heads, ladies!
The list is fairly exhaustive...it has 25 places on which the thing can land..some of them quite inaccessible for humans to fall on but not for lizards...like:
Lower lip...Dhana labham (awaiting riches) for men...and Nutana vastu labham (new acquisitions) women...some parity there.
There is provision for asymmetry...men have whiskers while women have...ahem...
Then we proceed to the exhaustive lists of what happens if you were born with indelible moles (birth-marks) depending on where you have them.
That leads to stripping more often than not, like that gambler.
That PJ is worth repeating:
This chappie was the most trustworthy and efficient employee except that he had a weakness for petty betting. When he was selected for a higher post under a new employer, he needed a reco from his older one. The reco was in a sealed cover and went like this:
"This chap is an excellent recruit except that he has a weakness for betting..."
The new employer read it and wanted to teach him a lesson and so challenged him. And this chappie countered him saying:
"I bet $100 that you have a mole on your right thigh"
His new boss was sure he didn't have it on his right but on his left. So, he thought he would teach him a lesson and unzipped his pants. And the chappie accepted his defeat and forked out a $100 bill.
And his new boss scolded him:
"Let this be a lesson for you..."
"No, sir...I bet my ex-boss $500 that I would make you strip within 5 minutes of your reading his reco"
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