Me and Suraj
I return to a friendship from my school days, trying to understand with greater maturity the boy who once protected me, shared those restless years with me, and later became my adversary.
I return to a friendship from my school days, trying to understand with greater maturity the boy who once protected me, shared those restless years with me, and later became my adversary.
When I think of food at home, I remember my grandmother’s fiery curries and my aunt’s cooking. Those flavours became part of family itself, and stayed with me especially during my years away at boarding school.
I remember Samyel first as the formidable school watchman who rang the bell, guarded the grounds and frightened us with his cane. Looking back, I see a far more complex man behind the figure we feared as children.
I look back on the teachers who shaped me—not only through what they taught, but through encouragement, discipline, personality and the confidence they gave me at different stages of my life.
I remember Deepavali through my uncle’s cracker shop, my brother, childhood friends and evenings filled with smoke, noise and daring. Now I mostly watch the lights and long for a time when such small joys meant everything.
An examination-day assignment unexpectedly takes me back to my own school years—to examinations, anxieties, teachers and the people whose presence quietly shaped those years.
I remember the long train journeys between Nellore and Anand—the unknown stations, passing landscapes and the strange excitement of imagining where every road beyond the window might lead.
I remember how a meal from home, or an occasional Andhra lunch in Madras, could suddenly reconnect me to my roots. Perhaps food tasted different because affection was as important as flavour.
I still remember my first hostel dinner in Chennai, the unfamiliar food and the homesickness that came with it. In time, those same Tamil dishes and small street treats became part of my growing-up years.
I remember Mona Madam as a cheerful, generous teacher who loved children instinctively. To me, she was never merely a teacher; she showed how naturally learning and affection could belong together.