SCHOOLING

As a pupil of South Point Montessori School, I remember we didn't have to carry much load. The Classwork copy books were kept in the school only. I am not sure if there was any homework either. I used to return home with a friend of mine in a richshaw. One day we betted who could jump of the moving rickshaw. My friend volunteered but when the time came his courage left him. So I dived into a smaill yard. But to my surprise the rickshaw didn't stop. I reached home with brusies all over. When asked I was frink enough to admit. On another occasion the rickshaw didn't care to wait for me. I smartly went up to the rickshaw stand got hold of a rickshaw and moved. On the way I asked him to stop near the lane near our house and ran home without paying as I din't have money. I was afraid to the rickshaw home and ask for money. I was reprimanded for this action. On one occasion when I was in Class II, during a sports programme a classmate of ours went and complained of having been beaten up by the fellow classmates. One of the administrators - my maternal aunt's husband picked cricket stumps and beat us up for no fault of ours. The school belonged to my aunt. I ran to my mom who used to teach there, but my uncle refused to talk to her. As my father met him he misbeaved badly and I was taken out of the school. Then I joined Bengali Girl's High School, which accomodated boys upto class VI. This was a vernacular medium school. I had to really toil hard adjust within six months and pass. In that school there was a big boy in our class who was the class captain. He used to have a wooden rod to discipline the students. He beat me up also once and apologized later for his mistake. he blamed his weak eye for that. My father joined Ramakrishna Mission High School, Cherrapunji as a teacher. I joined that school in Class III. That was the lowest Class. When we reached Cherrapunji we found my dad playing Table-Tennis with his colleagues in one of the rooms.

I joined Bakshirhat Mahavidyalaya (College) as Principal on the 1st of April 2008 with a lot of hope that I shall be able to unplift the standard of education all round. One year though with a lot of mental torture I struggled. But I realized that all my efforts were going in vain. I was yearning to leave, when a call from a colleague from the previous college made me sit up and think. I ultimately left the college to return to my old vocation in Cooch Behar. I rejoined my services in the University BT & Evening College on the 1st of July 2009. Though things are not the same any more and I expected that very much but it has relieved me of the slavery of certain memebers (one member actually) of the Organizing Committee. Student politics was at its worst. For one year thingsn't as bad. But just after the Indian Parliamentary Elections things started going out of control. I could very well imagine the future if I held on any longer.

New House

We bought a house. Registration was done on the 28th of May 2009. Its a nice house, single storied. We moved in on the 29th of July. It was difficult leaving the house where we had been staying for over five years now. It was almost like our own. I never thought buying a house or making one really. But any way it has materialized. The hosue isn't very old either. It was built in the year 2004. The previous owner had to sell it for financial reasons. There are two bed rooms, one sitting room, one passage which can be used as a dining room as well, one kitchen and two toilets. Now, we have been able to complete the second storey. In the seond storey the first bedroom extends upto the verandah. The room is quite big now. I have made a balcony. There are three bed rooms in the second storey, one kitchen-cum-dining room and two toilets. The white toilet is quite big. There is also a bath tub. The pink toilet is bigger thant he toilets in the ground floor. Above the first bed room there is one more room of the equal size. There is no mezzanine floor but I have been able to make another room in the third storey by the side the big room which is functoning as my library.
The problem with this house is that when we open the windows we can see inside the houses of our neighbours and can chat with them easily. There is hardly any privacy that way. You have to keep your voice really low. Another porblem is I can never keep my car any where near my house. But of course for the first time the scooter can be kept at home.
In the terrace outside the parapet wall I have made a drain-like structure where we have started a garden.  In this drain there are two water pipes with a lot of holes in them which work as an irrigation system. There were to half pillars on the terrace on which I have made two tables with electrical connections for fan, light and mosquito repellants. There is also another terrace where we have the water tank.

MY SON'S SCHOOLING

My son’s schooling:

Finding a good school for my son seems to be a huge problem. I had apprehended this much earlier though. I came to West Bengal in the year 2001 and started working as a lecturer in English in the Teachers’ Training Section of a college. For the first time in my life I was told that getting a B. Ed degree serves no purpose in improving teaching apart from the fact that increments of in-service teachers are not stopped and is treated as a minimum qualification for becoming a headmaster of an institution. I had tried to analyze the problem and my findings were that in majority if not in all teachers’ training college basic teaching skills are not taught. I had tried almost in vain with the trainee teachers. Only a very few learnt and may be most of them would never use those skills in their life time again. And I had only around ten trainees or so in my group apart from the ones offering English. What ails me is that all the schools around at least in Cooch Behar, barring those affiliated to the C.B.S.E., teach only reading and writing – loud reading only and other key skills are also ignored. Cramming is only encouraged. They take pleasure in the fact that ‘they teach so much’ ‘which other schools fail to’. Guardians would have been happier had their wards been given more. They are also burdened with home assignments, at times also under pressure from guardians. There no time for other activities which may be called ‘man making activities’. Confused, I started looking for a school which might tax my child a little less and involve him in games and other activities. I also wanted him to be able to mix with others, an opportunity which I was unable to provide him at home. I, initially, tried a local vernacular medium school in our own locality. This was basically to make him mix with people. But to my horror there was not even enough room for children to move about. No games absolutely – only ‘studies’. No wonder, my son wailed, kicked, vomited and nearly fell sick. Ultimately we had to stop sending him to school. We waited for a year till he was 3⁺. We had two options – one under military control and another, a missionary school. I opted for the former and was immediately happy with the environment. My son for the first time in his life ventured on his own to play in the swing and refused to return. But what were told was that at his age he would be admitted to three classed below Class I. I was not interested. There was also no Bengali. In the other school I was happy as the Principal told me that there was no class at least for three months in Lower KG level. First one year was not at all to my liking. The first day when I took my son to school I made the mistake of waiting outside the school gates. The students of his class were allowed outside for sometime and teachers tried to amuse them with balls. My son came near the gate and saw me. He yelled and wailed - literally howled pleading with me to take him away. It was really difficult for me to hold my tears. He fell down on the floor and from the small opening beneath the gate, trying to come out through the small opening at the bottom., somehow managed to get hold of one of my shoes with one hand and pleaded with me to take him away. I bent down to reach, patted his cheeks and told him that I wouldn’t be allowed inside. I requested the governess, who was with hearing distance, to take him away. She did once but he returned again. And again he was lying on the floor. Other guardians literally pushed me away trying to force me leave. I remained though at a distance from where I could see him but he couldn’t see me. It was really traumatic for both of us. I’ll never forget that day. When returned home he shared his experience with us. He was extremely unhappy for the fact that I was not allowed inside. For nearly a year he would start vomiting at the slightest hint of going to school. He would however, wouldn’t mind going to school at other timings. He is settled now. He is presently in Class I. But I am extremely unhappy at the fact that he is over-burdened and there is no time for him to play and learn other things. I am not happy at the quality of teaching either. He is in Class IV now (2012). Class IV onwards the students have to attend classes in the the High School building - a little far away from the junior school building. But the ghost of the first year reappeared. It was a huge problem sending him to school. It took at least a week for him to settle down.

A LESSON IN COOKING

A LESSON IN COOKING

-Aniruddha Burmon

(Submitted as an Assignment during PGDTE in the year 1997 at CIEFL, Shillong)

I was in school then. It was a Sunday or something. Mom had left for Guwahati to see my sister, leaving dad and me to fend for ourselves. We had convinced mom that we were able to cook four square meals a day, if not more. Saying is one thing and doing is another. Dad took charge of the kitchen. I was supposed to be the helper but the cook in reality. We winked at each other and in an instant we could read what was there in the other’s mind – pork of course. Off I rushed to the market and got the provisions – spinach, my favourite – goes well with pork.

‘Heat oil first and then fry the meat till it turns brownish’, ordered my dad. I followed the instructions religiously – well what could I do – that was my first lesson in cooking and dad who taught me English in school must know something about cooking too. After all, cooking is not difficult. ‘Add salt and turmeric’ – so did I, paste of onion, garlic and ginger is needed to. Leaving the frying to my senior I struggled with the traditional grinder. Plop – jumped out a piece of garlic here and plop went another. Tears rolling down my cheeks – the culprit was onion of course – water running down the nostrils. Well, I did have the paste made after all – you are allowed to differ in your opinion of a paste – but on my day I could have challenged any soul on the earth to beat me to it. ‘Fry the paste’ – done.

Pressure cookers were not heard of much those days but we did have an old make one, without a gasket of course. Once the gasket needed to be replaced we couldn’t get one because it wasn’t an Indian make and to our knowledge even if any pressure cookers were available, such gaskets were not available. Well, we could use it as a saucepan at least. Brownish meat, fired paste, light fried potato, all dumped in our ‘saucepan’ – can’t forget spinach – the smell used to drive me mad – ‘garam masala’ powdered is a must for meat – enough water for boiling – meat takes a long time to soften – we something more – pork needs more time still.

So we went on with our cooking. Spinach was not to be seen after sometime – potatoes started disappearing to but ht meat stood the ground like a rock. Flavour – none, only if you had taken your nose as close to the spoon carrying the ‘stuff’, as it didn’t actually touch your nose, you might have got some ‘smell’ – only a third person from outside might be affected. But we couldn’t go for much publicity either – you may very well guess the reasons.

Hungry, as we were after some two to three hours of struggle, cooked some rice – a little overcooked may be – but it doesn’t do one much harm – had to sit down for lunch – we did have to gulp down a few spongy pieces of meat – gravy was delicious though. Luckily this experiment did not go beyond three or four days – for mom came back to our rescure. Did I tell you that we had a guest that day who very unwittingly told us that spinach and ‘garam masala’ did not go together. ‘I told you so’, said dad.

TURA

People always ask me the question why I always talk of gong back to Tura. I have also tried to answer this question but have not really been able to answer this to the satisfaction of others. In fact, frankly, what has Tura given me? Let me see, if I can try and answer this once again.

My first consciousness about Tura was when we were in Cherrapunji – actually I was a student of St Edmund’s College, Shillong then, when my dad received a call from MBOSE. My sister packed all his warm clothes! – three suit pieces, as I remember now, in a black coloured trunk. The month must have been April or May of 1974. While returning dad lost all his luggage – in fact, his luggage was exchanged with someone else who got down at Resu or Mendi. Next year, when he received a telegram from MBOSE, dad was not sure who this gentleman could be. We put our heads together to resolve that he must have met someone, called Mr M. Bose, at Tura, who had the kindness to send him a telegram. This time we were wiser not to have given him any warm clothes and in any case not much could have been made within a year from a teacher’s salary (Dad was a teacher of Ramakrishna Mission High School, Cherrapunji, where my sister and me completed our HSLC Examination from).

Almost a decade passed – I completed my Master’s – worked in places like Zunheboto (Nagaland), Shillong and Tukrajhar (Assam) – faced an interview conducted by the Meghalaya Public Service Commission and was pleasantly surprised to find my name in the list of recommended candidates, that too, topping the list. Came 11^th of October 1983, when escorted by my parents I reached Tura in the evening and met the Principal at his residence. He was quite amused to see parents escorting an adult would-be-‘professor’. So my journey began from the next day. ‘Got some reprieve as it during the Puja holidays. After the holidays as I returned, my first class as I remember was in 1^st yr B.A. I was asked to teach the novel ‘The Mayor of Casterbridge’. After rushing through the Roll Call, I simply hurried through the discussion on ‘Tragedy & Tragic Hero’. Only then I could make myself to face the class (though I had some experience in teaching – I also had a B.Ed degree – I had faced only a small population in the UG classes). The next class was even worse as I had to face some three hundred students in the II P.U. class. I couldn’t get myself to face the crowd, till I took hold of the text-book and stood in front of the table. I was also asked to join the Evening Shift as well. This was even more interesting. I had to submit a Joining Report in the Standard Proforma. As it was the evening shift, I wrote in my Joining Report that I joined in the afternoon. When the Pay Slip (Pay Slips used to be issued for the Evening shift those days) came I was wild to find that I was paid w.e.f. from 24^th October whereas I had joined on the 23^rd!

After my first day’s class I was planning to return to ‘Raj Kamal Hotel’, where I was lodging. I was walking with a senior colleague. I told him that I was looking for some houses on rent. Out of the blue he suggested I could stay with him as long as his family didn’t return from Shillong. It was really a surprise as this was our first meeting and to invite some stranger to stay in one’s house was something unheard of. Well I saved my hotel rent. I straight away went to ‘Munka Hotel’ and made an advance payment towards monthly food charges and was feeling quite happy with myself. As I reached my colleague’s place only a rebuke awaited me for having made the advance payment but still I was happy. But that was not all; I had to share his breakfast, evening tea and lunch in addition to two other meals at Munka hotel. He simply bowled me over. I simply became a part of his lovely family later on.

My initial reaction was that I would stay for maximum of one year at Tura – of course find quite a few of my friends from Shillong at the SBI was very encouraging though.

It was exam time. I was off duty. It was English, so I thought I should be around. As I leisurely entered the campus, the Principal caught hold my arm and whisked me away and thrust me into the office and made me sit in front of a typewriter. Before I could react I was asked to type a Question Paper – to cut the stencil actually. As I cut one stencil and went for the next one, the first one was cyclostyled and distributed among the examinees. By the time I was in the middle of the second stencil the shortage of Question Papers was met as it was discovered that another of Question Papers had by mistake been left behind at the treasury.

FIRST ORIENTATION: Tura has an unique programme, called ‘Teachers’ Social’, where in connection ‘Teachers’ Day’, school, college and university teachers attend in a pre-decided institution and enjoy the day with frolicking, fun making and other mostly light-hearted cultural programmes. In the year 1984, it was the turn of Tura Public School. The programme was supposed to be conducted at the auditorium complex. I was returning from college with a senior colleague of mine who later became my principal. As the topic of attending the Social started I informed him of my unwillingness to attend the programme. I was actually angry with my mother with whom I had quarrelled in the morning. The only comment my colleague made was, ‘You are another gone case’. I reacted by joining the programme and that is not all. The food was late and all the cultural items were over. It was up to some one else to keep the audience involved. A senior colleague of mine gave the lead, picked up by a teacher of Don Bosco School, I joined the gang with a lot of jokes. It was ultimately the latter and me who stole the show. Then onwards of course, there was no going back. I had on another occasion reacted similarly when I was doing B.Ed and before the final examination was thinking of dropping as preparation was not good enough. A teacher of mine at PGT College, Shillong commented, ‘why should Burmon take the examination, he has already got a job?’ When I heard this I reacted because I had left a college teaching job in Nagaland to do B.Ed. So I took up the challenge and took the examination, where I am inclined to think I did pretty well.

The first year, the involvements were not too many. Then I had to make a decision. If I have to stay in Tura I have to be a part of it. It was near the Ringrey Bridge, while walking with a senior colleague of mine I made a proposal for starting a Debating Society, when he said, ‘It is my dream’. Then there was no looking back – Meghalaya Debating Society, Meghalaya Science Society, Natya Samity, Tura District Cricket Association, Tura District Volley Ball Association, Meghalaya Table Tennis Association, The Rotary Club of Tura – difficult to name an Association with which I was not associated directly or indirectly – then of course there were the clubs. I don’t know when Tura became my first love. I started growing with Tura. Each contributed to other’s development. The trouble is, if I name some and don’t name others. There are a host of people from whom I have learnt so much and whom I emulated in my life. There are some who gave me valuable tips in teaching, from some I learnt the art of administration, others taught me the art and technique of playing games, some taught me how to be tolerant in life, some taught me how to socialize – the art of being a subordinate – in fact, each person I met taught me something or the other which has made me what I am today. Another training ground was the MBOSE, where a lot of people helped me learn the work. Openings also came from AIR and Doordarshan – all these made life really interesting. How can I forget the rapport I used to have with the schools and other colleges (in fact I also worked as a Part-timer in Govt. B.Ed College, Rongkhon as also some experience in working at the Durama College) and all the people from various other walks of life? How can I also forget my days with the IGNOU and frequent contacts with the NSS? I also became a student of IGNOU, Don Bosco School & Don Bosco College! once each for computer courses.

NCC took up a big chunk of my emotions and time. My cadets who were prepared to sweat it out for the whole work even without a cup of tea. No wonder they were easily considered the best cadets in the whole state as only the cadets of our college were given the chance of Quarter Guard in an Annual Training Camp. The Deputy Director General (NCC) was being given the Guard of Honour. The DDG was pleasantly overwhelmed to find cadet after cadet from Tura Govt. College. After the cadets the first officer he met was me. When he learnt that I was from Tura Govt. college his face beamed and he asked me in Hindi, ‘Do you conduct training programmes in the college?’ My answer was an obvious, ‘YES SIR.’ It was a great sight watching our cadets training cadets from other colleges for the ‘B’ Certificate Examination when our cadets themselves were taking the same examination. Even in RD camps more than half the population was from Tura Govt. College. When the Group Commander-in-Charge was about this disproportion his answer was, ‘If I had my say I would have given the whole quota to Tura Govt. College’ – no wonder other colleges started envying us.

As I now have physically left Tura and keep looking back I receive a lot of inspiration and am rejuvenated. There were a lot of people whom I looked up to for guidance and advice. And those of them who are still living are still ready to do so. I raised a question at the beginning. I don’t know whether I have been able to answer it. I am really confused. “If you did love Tura so much, then why did you leave it?” Frankly – no answers once again.

TUKRAJHAR HIGHER SECONDARY SCHOOL

TUKRAJHAR HIGHER SECONDARY SCHOOL:

I joined the Post Graduate Training College, Shillong in the morning shift with the idea that I could get a job during the day time. But as luck would have it no jobs were forthcoming. I went on applying. Though I was enjoying the course I badly needed a job. During the mid of the session I received four calls. It was a difficult decision now. Two were interviews and two were Appointment letters. I started short-listing them. The interview at Kendriya Vidyalaya somewhere at Guwahati for the post of PGT (English) on a contract basis could be left out. Interview at Gohpur College was also left out – I needed a job. The lecturer’s post at Golakganj College was not very promising either. It promised of a fixed salary of Rs 500/- and free accommodation. The other job was that of a Subject Teacher in Tukrajhar Higher Secondary School. The Appointment had come from the Inspector of Schools, Dhubri and a scale was mentioned. This was the most lucrative of the lot. But where in the earth was this place Tukrajhar. Those that from Kokrajhar said there was no such place in the globe. I vaguely remembered an ex-colleague of mine from Zunheboto College that this place was near Bongaigaon (near his home town). A classmate of mine brought the news that buses plied from Bongaigaon to Bengtal and one has to walk from Bengtal onwards till Tukrajhar. There was no hiding my joy. I had conquered the world. I put in an application requesting the Principal to allow me leave till the exams, which was grudgingly accepted. I remember to have left with a heavy suitcase, a bedding and a guitar. No matter in which part of the globe was this place I was ready to move. I took a train to Bongaigaon. It reached in the morning. It was drizzling. I took a porter and asked him to take to the bus station from where buses for left. The porter took me round and round Bongaigaon and arrived at a bus station just adjacent to the railway station. There to my pleasant surprise was a bus meant for Tukrajhar itself! The porter charged heavily though! The passengers reacted at the porterage only after the porter had left satisfied. The passenger next to me was a Child Development Project Officer from Nongstoin, West Khasi Hills District of Meghalaya. He happened to be an ex student of Tukrajhar Higher Secondary. At least there was a school in that name really. Clanking and squeaking the bus reached Tukrajhar at last. All my enthusiasm left me at the sight of this hamlet. We somehow found a shed to save ourselves from the drizzle. After a lot of assurance from my co-passenger I agreed to enter an inn from where I could at least look after my luggage, though it would not have been possible for to run fast enough to catch a thief who might choose to run away with my luggage. I was asked to eat chicken’s head with tea – frankly, I was more confused than shocked at the suggestion. Unable to make a comment I found out to my pleasant surprise was that the chicken’s head was actually a sweet made out of dough which we use we use know as spring (lobongo is Bengali). I had to go to the school but did not know what to do with my luggage. After a lot persuasion and assurance that nothing will happen to my luggage and that a staff from the school will come back to collect my favourite guitar and the bedding I left with my heavy suitcase. The sight of the school was reassuring and the Principal even more. Grey (actually white) haired spoke English and that too with a lot of aspirations. I was bowled over. But my first query was about my luggage. I was assured that some one had already gone to fetch them. Next was that as I was still a student of B.Ed I needed Leave on two occasions – once during the Test and later for the Final Examination as also the Final Teaching. I was very politely asked to join first. But I insisted that these be granted first. After being assured I joined. I again wanted to know about the fate of my luggage. I was told that they had reached my quarters. I immediately wanted to leave for my quarters to check my belongings. A teacher of that school predicted that I was not going to last long in that school. True to his words I worked there for a little over than seven months.

ZUNHEBOTO COLLEGE

ZUNHEBOTO COLLEGE – my first official assignment:

It was in the year 1979. There was a riot in Shillong. I was doing my third semester MA. I had gone to Allahabad for SSB interview. On my return I spent sometime in Kolkata (Calcutta – then). When I returned I couldn’t sit for the third sem exam. Those that sat for the exam got good marks though. The fourth started and I sat for the exam in time. On the penultimate day a Naga classmate of mine, Gokhote Sema (I am not too sure of the spelling of the first name. It was pronounced Wokhote or something.) asked me if I was interested for a college teaching job in his own district. He was not interested in it though. I was but was not too sure if any one would really accept a person who hadn’t completed his MA that too without Honours. He asked me to meet him at Laitumkhrah (a place in Shillong) the next day after the last exam, so that he could take me to the Principal who was camping there at Nagaland House. As the exam was over I lost interest in meeting the Principal and spent time in merry making. The day after next as luck would have it we happened to meet at Laitumkhrah and naturally a rebuke followed. Another date and time were fixed and ultimately I had to show up. He was already there before time. I met the Principal and was appointed right away. I also helped another friend to get appointed ion the same college and another one in a school. Only one thing I was not allowed to tell him was that I hadn’t completed my third sem. I sat for the third sem in the harshest of conditions. I was possibly the first and last candidate to be allowed to complete two sems together. We were possibly three of us. Two were repeating some papers. During the last two or three days I was the only candidate in the hall. It was raining cats & dogs and I was running a high temperature with Pharyngytis. I remember to have taken my wet shoes off and water was dripping down from the trousers – I couldn’t take them off though. Nevertheless, I took the exam – I almost had to. We were supposed to have travelled by first class but according to my friend the Travelling Allowance was not enough for Second Class travel either. So, we had to dole some money from our pockets. After a hazardous journey we reached Zunheboto on the 14^th of June 1980. Classes were supposed to be at the Night Shift. It was a venture college. We were the first teachers in this second attempt of establishing a college. We could have two days of classes precisely on the 15^th & 16^th and a riot broke out between Semas and Aos. We were in Sema land. As I received a telegram for an interview for Bachelor of Education (B.Ed) degree I lost no time to resign. By then I had worked for around one year and seven months. In addition to working in the college I also worked in the morning shift at Sun Beam School and during the day in St. Paul’s School. Later, when my Principal (Kuhoi Zhimomi)’s wife went on a maternity leave I joined the Govt. School for three months. I received a telegram ‘bed selection’ on a certain date – frankly I was confused. It took some time for me to find out that it was the selection for admission into Bachelor of Education Course. There was not much time to leave. Being very clear that I would not get a Study Leave I chose to resign.

Yarrow Visited

Coming over to West Bengal was a kind of culture shock for me. Though my mother tongue is Bengali and I always dreamt of working and living in West Bengal it was a kind of Yarrow Visited for me. I have lost heavily financially. Emotionally I am still a part of the North-East India. I know I will never be able to go back. I had tried initially for a number of years but the Government of Meghalaya never chose to respond. It will not be wise to return now either. I know I have to move on. That I will do certainly. I used to be really glad when people used to confuse me as a Khasi. I have learnt a lot from the North-East. I thought I will learn more here. But I learn things here which which I am not happy to learn.

Coming over to West Bengal was a kind of culture shock for me. Though my mother tongue is Bengali and I always dreamt of working and living in West Bengal it was a kind of Yarrow Visited for me.