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In 1958 my didi and I moved to Vizagh to pursue our higher studies...she her MBBS at the Andhra Medical College and I my B Sc (Hons) and M Sc (Physics) at the Andhra University. We were living in our MD Uncle's house, and all our frugal needs were met by him and his nice wife.
In 1960 my Uncle left for the US to specialize in Cardiology at the Johns Hopkins, Baltimore.
And my younger sister was joining us at Vizagh to do her BSc at Mrs AVN College which was then celebrating its centenary. I asked her who this Mrs AVN was, but neither she nor I had an inkling. Just now I Googled for it and discovered that its list of distinguished alumni has a Padma Vibhushan (C R Rao), a Padma Bhushan (Dwaram Vekataswami Naidu, violinist), an ICS (Sonthi Ramamurthy), a UGC Chariman (B R Rao, our own HoD at AU), a tribal king who fought the British (Alluri Sita Rama Raju), a Nobel Laureate (C V Raman) among many other luminaries.
Thank you, Google!
So we three moved out to a small tenement on a hill overlooking the Bay of Bengal where we lived breezily for the next 5 years. Its rent was a whopping Rs 40.
For 3 years, from 1960 to 1963, till I started earning my fabulous research scholarship of Rs 250, we had to depend on the Rs 150 Father dispatched in the first week of every month. And it was touch and go for Father who had another 4 growing kids to feed, clothe and educate. Every rupee was precious and so he didn't use the great Money Order facility which charged a rather hefty commission of Rs 15.
He then discovered that there was a thing known as Bank Draft which was as cheap as Rs 1 only (for the sender) and nil for the receiver. He couldn't cross his Draft (A/C Payee) for the simple reason that we didn't have any sort of Bank Account at Vizagh...they demanded a minimum balance of Rs 10...ha!
So when I received the envelope (costing Rs 0.15) enclosing his Bank Draft on the Main Branch of SBI at Vizagh, it was an ordeal for me to convert it into badly needed hard cash. The Main Branch of SBI was at the other end of the city, and closed on Sundays, and since our University ran us on a 6-day week, it was a preeminent hassle to find time.
But food comes first and education later. So, I had to find a day of the week when a boring lecture was on our time table and cut the morning session to travel to the SBI.
And the clerk at the counter would ask:
"Do have an account in our Branch?"
"No"
"Any other branch?"
"No"
"Then you have to sign on the reverse and get your signature attested by anyone who has an account in our branch"
"Sir, please, sir! Can you attest it for me?...I don't know anyone here"
"No...I don't know you too"
Then I walk slowly on the pavement of the Main Road and enter M S Brother's Book Shop where I was a regular browsing (but not buying) visitor. And ask MS to please attest my signature. He would stare at me and look the other way.
Then I enter a couple more bookshops and get disgusted.
Finally I entered the forbidding Mitrani Brothers, the biggest and best clothing outfit, with huge plate glass windows and doors, where I regularly used to do window-shopping. The eldest Mitrani (who had never seen me inside before) would smile charmingly and say:
"No problem!"
and attest my signature along with his Current Account Number...till now I don't know the difference between a Savings Account and a Current Account except that the latter sounds more prestigious.
And he did it for me for free every month for the next 3 years...May his tribe increase!
And then I would sigh and say to myself:
"How nice if Uncle were here in Vizagh...he would have attested my Bank Draft without any fuss!"
And then laugh because I am reminded of this story of the new and sparkling widow:
During our childhood every widow, old and young, had to get her head shaved off (tonsured) on every Full Moon Day, and cover it with a veil (and a wail). And since there were no hair-cutting saloons then, and ladies (not to talk of young widows) would never enter it even if there were one, they had to depend on a house-catering barber who would visit their homes with their armory and do the needful for a haggled fee. This chap would generally have his roaring business under the banyan tree of the village where he would seat his male customers on a brick and rob them of their money as well as their precious hair.
And when he doesn't turn up at our homes on time, some boy in the household, like me, would be sent to the Banyan Tree to drag him home.
One Full Moon Day this young childless widow was waiting and waiting for her barber to arrive, since she can't start cooking and eating before the customary ordeal was through.
And she got so vexed with her barber that she said to herself:
"How nice it would have been if only my husband were alive...I could have asked him to go and fetch my barber!"
And she laughed at her foolishness...like I do every day these days...
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In 1958 my didi and I moved to Vizagh to pursue our higher studies...she her MBBS at the Andhra Medical College and I my B Sc (Hons) and M Sc (Physics) at the Andhra University. We were living in our MD Uncle's house, and all our frugal needs were met by him and his nice wife.
In 1960 my Uncle left for the US to specialize in Cardiology at the Johns Hopkins, Baltimore.
And my younger sister was joining us at Vizagh to do her BSc at Mrs AVN College which was then celebrating its centenary. I asked her who this Mrs AVN was, but neither she nor I had an inkling. Just now I Googled for it and discovered that its list of distinguished alumni has a Padma Vibhushan (C R Rao), a Padma Bhushan (Dwaram Vekataswami Naidu, violinist), an ICS (Sonthi Ramamurthy), a UGC Chariman (B R Rao, our own HoD at AU), a tribal king who fought the British (Alluri Sita Rama Raju), a Nobel Laureate (C V Raman) among many other luminaries.
Thank you, Google!
So we three moved out to a small tenement on a hill overlooking the Bay of Bengal where we lived breezily for the next 5 years. Its rent was a whopping Rs 40.
For 3 years, from 1960 to 1963, till I started earning my fabulous research scholarship of Rs 250, we had to depend on the Rs 150 Father dispatched in the first week of every month. And it was touch and go for Father who had another 4 growing kids to feed, clothe and educate. Every rupee was precious and so he didn't use the great Money Order facility which charged a rather hefty commission of Rs 15.
He then discovered that there was a thing known as Bank Draft which was as cheap as Rs 1 only (for the sender) and nil for the receiver. He couldn't cross his Draft (A/C Payee) for the simple reason that we didn't have any sort of Bank Account at Vizagh...they demanded a minimum balance of Rs 10...ha!
So when I received the envelope (costing Rs 0.15) enclosing his Bank Draft on the Main Branch of SBI at Vizagh, it was an ordeal for me to convert it into badly needed hard cash. The Main Branch of SBI was at the other end of the city, and closed on Sundays, and since our University ran us on a 6-day week, it was a preeminent hassle to find time.
But food comes first and education later. So, I had to find a day of the week when a boring lecture was on our time table and cut the morning session to travel to the SBI.
And the clerk at the counter would ask:
"Do have an account in our Branch?"
"No"
"Any other branch?"
"No"
"Then you have to sign on the reverse and get your signature attested by anyone who has an account in our branch"
"Sir, please, sir! Can you attest it for me?...I don't know anyone here"
"No...I don't know you too"
Then I walk slowly on the pavement of the Main Road and enter M S Brother's Book Shop where I was a regular browsing (but not buying) visitor. And ask MS to please attest my signature. He would stare at me and look the other way.
Then I enter a couple more bookshops and get disgusted.
Finally I entered the forbidding Mitrani Brothers, the biggest and best clothing outfit, with huge plate glass windows and doors, where I regularly used to do window-shopping. The eldest Mitrani (who had never seen me inside before) would smile charmingly and say:
"No problem!"
and attest my signature along with his Current Account Number...till now I don't know the difference between a Savings Account and a Current Account except that the latter sounds more prestigious.
And he did it for me for free every month for the next 3 years...May his tribe increase!
And then I would sigh and say to myself:
"How nice if Uncle were here in Vizagh...he would have attested my Bank Draft without any fuss!"
And then laugh because I am reminded of this story of the new and sparkling widow:
During our childhood every widow, old and young, had to get her head shaved off (tonsured) on every Full Moon Day, and cover it with a veil (and a wail). And since there were no hair-cutting saloons then, and ladies (not to talk of young widows) would never enter it even if there were one, they had to depend on a house-catering barber who would visit their homes with their armory and do the needful for a haggled fee. This chap would generally have his roaring business under the banyan tree of the village where he would seat his male customers on a brick and rob them of their money as well as their precious hair.
And when he doesn't turn up at our homes on time, some boy in the household, like me, would be sent to the Banyan Tree to drag him home.
One Full Moon Day this young childless widow was waiting and waiting for her barber to arrive, since she can't start cooking and eating before the customary ordeal was through.
And she got so vexed with her barber that she said to herself:
"How nice it would have been if only my husband were alive...I could have asked him to go and fetch my barber!"
And she laughed at her foolishness...like I do every day these days...
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