20 Merton Hall Gardens

Wimbledon

London. SW20 8ISN.

081 715 6549.

January 1994.

M Dear Friends of VADHA Worldwide,

If 1993 was not a good year for you, may 1994 bring you contentment. For me, 1993  was MAGIC, for you see FELL IN LOVE AGAIN.

Sorry ! Eat your hearts out Dereyck, Clive, Brian…… It is"AUSTRALIA" that is now on my tongue constantly ! However, have I fallen in love with the coutry or with "The" people ? We met about 5 actual Aussies and the rest were family and friends. I leave you to decide by the end of this missive into which category the VADHANs fall.

Deryck had not seen his brother in Perth for 40 Years an Mum has close and friends there who are getting fragile – as you know, she is Spring Chicken known by some as by some as S.C. Hence our decision to go, and once that was fixed, then visiting, VADHANs in Perth and Sydney became a MUST.

We planned with Barbara Todd (Barnett) while she was here in June for the reunion, and we expected to see her, Sally Stewart and Betty Brown (Copley), so you can imagine, my amazement on arriving at Sally's house to find over 30 people there. They had so sweetly got in touch with all on the list and invited them to Sally's.

Time flew by so quickly that it is all like a beautiful dream. Hid I been "on the ball" I would have taken a tape recorder as the stories came fast and furiously, making for sheer entertainment. However, let me, give you the names of the VADHANs who were there:-

Jim Bayford, Betty Brown (Copley), Molly Gauntlett (Sheldon), Joan Green (Ashe), Peter Grout, Cynthia (O’Hara) and Lawrence Lake, Kathleen Lopez (McDonald), Janet Mead (Simpson), Rena Moore (Lowe), Phyllis Lawrence (Watson), Mavis Carter (Watkins), Mollie Elliott (Watkins) and Sally and Barbara. I have not named "other halves" who were there and are really lovely people.

Everyone took food and it was a sumptuous feast. Mum spent her time getting the recipes ! The tables groaned with the fare and I made sure I sampled everything – Oh dear! it was fantastic. I took pictures of it all and Sally made a video of the entire proceedings which we watch regularly. Sadly, we cannot hear the story details, and my head was in a constant whirl. The one recurring theme seemed to be that all the boys at one time or another had received the cane from my Uncle John (Lochner). However, so much for the E.E.C. ruling, they all volunteered that not only had it done them good and was deserved, but also had given them a greater respect for my uncle. He was deemed a superb maths master who always had the patience to explain, and their excellent results were laid at his door.

Cynthia and Lawrence Lake are a lovely Dow Hill and Victoria couple who knew their own minds from those far off days. Lawrence mentioned he got caugnt playing jazz, on the R.C. chapel organ. Cynthia is a crocodile hunter and I'll leave her to elucidate further for the next newsletter.

One of the V.S. "boys" was caught smoking by Uncle John who gave him the choice of forfeiting his week-end exeat or a caning. The latter was the option as he was to see his father in Darjeeling for that period. Fearing his father's wrath he was unable to explain why he definitely did not wish to go horse-riding, his normal pleasure !

I had taken some tops and we have the ensuing actions on Sally's video. We had to acknowledge that Peter Grout was the champion. There were lots of snaps, albums, and other memorabilia, so much so that I was unable to peruse everything, but I did photograph both sides of a Dow Hill Dinner menu of November 1945 as all the members of staff had signed it. For those who want copies £1 will secure the two prints. They will be on display next June, together with the other photographs.

Sally's family of handsome sons and two lovely "better halves" worked very hard to make it all flow smoothly. I would like to offer them my sincerest thanks.

Not only was everyone very warm and welcoming to us at Sally's house but many continued to keep in touch. Peter and Marie Grout live near Dereyck's brother and popped over to take Mum shopping. Mollie and Bruce (Gauntlett) came over and became part of the family in minutes. A close friend of ours - Mrs.Vieyra - had travelled with us and stayed with Phyllis Gow (Papi). Unfortunately, Mrs. V. fell ill, had major surgery and remained in Perth for 3 months. All ended well and she had a fantastic holiday there. She was entertained by Horace and Derek Papi and visited by Mollie and Bruce, who also invited her to their home. At the airport we were so pleased to see Kathie and Jim Bayford and were very touched at their kindness in coming to see us off.

While ill Perth I had a lovely warm telephone call from Essie Lechmere (Smart) and she ended by saying she would now enjoy the newsletter more as I was no longer just a signature. Very sadly, Essie passed away on Oct.18th, fairly suddenly. However, in my heart I will always be grateful for that telephone conversation.

Then on to the East side of Australia, where we finally ended up at Natalie Noney's house. She is warm and relaxed and it was like home from home. Natalie made dinner for us, Alice Wrigley (Hardaker) and Bella Kelly, who came with her delightful daughter. Yes, Mike Kelly, your Aunt is lovely and I gave her a special hug from you. Alice and I practised our Hindi/Benqali and we all reminisced of course! I was convulsed by Alice's story, of Marian Porter's black, patent leather shoes. Alice so admired them she entreated her mother to get her a pair, but to no avail as she was told it was not on for the boys to see the reflection of her knickers in them !

Since our return there has been a further reunion in Perth at Sally's. Barbara Todd (Barnett) wrote " Fresh from another 'whirli' at Sally's place yesterday afternoon, I thought I'd write while things are fresh. It was just as worth while yesterday - we all took 'finger-food' and Sally, as usual, did us proud with liquid refreshment and decorated her home very tastefully. It was a bit rowdier because we sang lustily, Joan accompanying us on a keyboard belonging to Sally's son, Grant, who, also treated us to a very palatable fruit punch (laced with a touch of champagne) and did other duties, behind the bar. Cups of tea were available for the asking. All the August qathering were present, plus Owen Browne and his wife, Betty Copley and her husband, an Armenian girl called Dawn Martin (?) and two very gracious St Helen’s ladies, no less - guests of Kathleen Lopez (McDonald). I discovered the St,Helen's laddies were related to Joan Webster, in class with me. It was nice to hear.

Incidentally, we lit 4 candles and placed them on the mantelpiece in Sally's lounge, all very unobtrusively, no spectres or anything. One for Essie, the 2nd for a lady called Iris Coutts (Beeby), who got me 'Orchids and Algebra' and traced VADHA for me, one. for Pamela Malcolm (who has passed away on our Eastern seaboard), and the 4th was lit for Phyllis Watkin's husband, who had been seriously ill for some time.

While I think of it, Philip Bapty was here yesterday - with wife. He is Peter Grout's stepbrother and his wife is Marie Grout's sister. So two brothers married two sisters - there's a bit of news for you !"

Barbara has sent me a photocopy of a photograph of the DH Upper School of 1939 with all the names of the staff and pupils. Again, this will be on display.

Australia is a wonderful country - beautiful, sunny, spacious, organised and cheap. But, with all the wonderful experiences we had, am I in love with the country or the people ? Come down from the clouds, Grace Pereira, stop eulogising, and get on !

I always look forward to hearing from Warren O'Rourke. Not only are his letters a real joy to read but he is in touch with so many VADHANs. He has a constant stream of visitors and letters from all over the globe and would make a mint if he charged for his services ! Heather Murphy (Dawson) was there in summer and Warren writes: "There's a lot to Heather, as I suspect there is to many who came from the Hill Top. There was an element of freedom and individual initiative in our student lives, the gifts to a large extent of comparatively enlightened schools, which must have found expression in their adult lives."

Bob Avery popped in and through Warren, was able to get in touch with Keith "Kuloo" Ball, another heartthrob/rogue ? from his class.

Warren is one of many who always remember to send greetings and thanks to Des. Please, never think of these newsletters as being from "me", they are from "us" as without Des you would not get them. I also need him to discuss many topics. As Warren so rightly says, "In the newsletters Dolly's spirit lives on, her spark having re-ignited the VADHA torch and kept it going ( indescipherable)  brightly Des). Warren sent me a delightful Poem called "A Rainbow in the Living, Room' about the Dhobi.

Don WaleskI sent snaps of hIs family, with the latest addition - a granddaughter called Merika. What a pretty name !

Cynthia Brennan (Marsden) writes "An ex-DH girl, Bridget Edwards, has just spent a week here with me from Canada. We had not seen each other since we left school, she in 1934 and I in 1944. It was great to see her again - in fact we did not even know what the other looked like, but just took a guess.

You guessed it - most of our chatter was about D.H. and trying to place the various names we remembered, also the teachers, the names we gave the various meals and all the tricks we used to get up to. I even gave her my copy of the last bulletin to read as well as the book, 'Orchids arid Algebra'.

Yes, Denise, there is still keen appreciation of your book and I do get asked for copies. Any chance of obliging ?

I'm sure everyone will be very pleased to hear that Bubbles "I don't do anything but book the hall'* Morgan (Dalutz) has made a good recovery from her operation). She will be booking the hall again for the Reunion on June 11th 1994. Ring the date, folks. Clive Antram hopes to make it again - to see Sally Stewart (MacDonald) ? ‑ but his wife suggested she may feel left out of all the hugging, so I offered Dereyck - vouching for his hugs being gorgeous! Talking about the Reunion ! Between Dereyck and Les Daring I am in the doghouse ! I have Les's video of his visit to V.S., but so far no means of showing it at the Reunion. So HELP ! How can we do this ? Can it be enlarged, on to a screen ?

Well, Elizabeth Law (Berry), your record is broken. Letters from Olga Loving (Bird) and her brother, Neville, confirm that Olga started in Dow Hill in 1914, and she is still a member at the age of 88. Neville asks, "Can I claim that honour for Victoria ? I was there from 1919 till 1928." Neville, gave a lot of really interesting news, so let me quote:-  "In bygone times large families were commonplace. We had 11 (6 sisters and 5 brothers), all of whom attended D.H. or V.S., some of us for 10 and others less numbers of years. This must be a record. I am the only brother left and 4 sisters - all VADHAN stalwarts: four octogenarians and one septuagenarian.

As a teenager I learnt to play the piano by ear. So with Noel and Pat Ellicott, Henry Summers and Willie Macrodt, we formed a dance‑band. We used to Play for various functions at both schools and even performed once at the Kurseong 'Burra Club'. My most cherished memory is of our playing on the Sports Day on Dow Hill's lower flat. They actually fixed up a small stage for us, to accommodate the piano. Hit tunes at the time were 'Bye, bye Blackbird', 'Drifting and Dreaming', 'Don't sing Aloh', etc.

As you are in the noble profession of teaching, here is a little bit of information which may interest you. In those early years there was an annual prize at Victoria called the Dux medal, for the best-all-round boy in school. These were won by Bunny Doyle in 1927, Harold Chalk in 1926, and my brother Leslie in 1925. All three took up teaching, Bunny in Victoria, Chalk and my brother ending up as Principals of La Martiniere and St. James' Schools, Calcutta respectively.

It is always interesting to come across some names of ex-pupils that sound familiar in your newsletters. Two such in your latest are Don Morrison and Alan Campbell. A Don Morrison played the part of Puck in our rendition of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' I played Duke Theseus in the same. There was an Alan Campbell in our hockey team at Right-back, while I played left-back. I don't know if they are the same, as the year was 1927."

Muriel Glendinning (Seymour-Shove) asks if anyone has a recipe for "that old

favourite in our tuck boxes, homemade spicy tomato sauce - Heinz is not a patch on

it". Actually, my Mum makes ours and however hot she makes it, we still eat it like

jam! So I am sure if there are other recipes as well, you can try thern all ! Muriel also wrote, "From your photograph of the 'Slope' I was surprised at the disappearance of the Banksia rose bushes that draped the rails of the fence and had such a gorgeous fragrance from the butter-yellow clusters of flowers. My daughter gave me a Banksia rose as a present two years ago and the perfume of the blossom always transports me to the 'slope' at Dow Hill."

Denise Coelho (Winsome Fink) writes, "Just one point from your previous newsletter. In this, you referred to MISS Behan, the Food Matron. In fact she was Mrs. and she signed my autograph thus, adding her initial 'L'. I forthwith dubbed her 'Lulu’ and this name stuck among my friends and associates during my latter years at Dow Hill. Thought you might like to amend this for the records. Regarding Miss Mabel Bwye and Miss Alice Mack. Alas, they are both long since dead.

My first booklet of poems,'Bells of Such Silence', was published in 1972, when Miss Bwye was still alive, because I sent her a copy and we talked subsequently on the 'Phone. She was thrilled that she had had a hand in my love of poetry and writing of poems, since I mentioned her influence (through poems such as “The Lady of Shallot" and “lsabella, or the Pot of Basil") on my mind during its formative years in 1934 and 5. She must have died a few years later. I know she was crippled with arthritis and in a wheelchair because she told me it took her ages to get to the telephone and answer it.

I corresponded with Miss Mack, also a victim of arthritis since D.H. days, for many years until we left India in 1956. She had retired to Torquay. When I tried to get in touch after we came here, I learned that she had died about that time, but had been survived by her mother, who must have been in her late 80's or early 90's. Alice Mack must have been buried in the cemetery at Torquay, and I'm afraid it was remiss of me not to have visited her grave when I visited there in the '60s.

She was a great favourite of mine as was Claire Teyen, and I think this is borne out in my book 'Orchids & Algebra', Incidentally, I had a second booklet Of poems, 'However Measured the Tread', published in 1976."

Winsome is one with a storehouse of Dow Hill memorabilia, and is wondering what will happen to all these on our demise. I don't know the collective answer, but my girls will preserve mine ‑ the are VADHAphiles !

Sister Dierdrie's (Clark) letter must be quoted in its entirety: "From 24th July (1993) I shall be at St. Laurence Children's Hospice, Strata 1907, Cernavoda, Constanta, Romania –

You might be interested to read the paragraph I wrote about this new venture for our Associates' Monthly News-letter:

On Ash Wednesday 1992, the doors of St. Laurence Hospice, Cernavoda, opened to the first Romanian children, malnourished little creatures, all infected with the HIV virus and doomed to an early death. The staff who welcomed them were all volunteers from Britain, whose hearts had been touched by the pictures seen on TV screens after the fall of Ceaucescu. The Hospice was built and financed by a British Charity, 'Children in Distress', and volunteers from the UK continue to serve there, some for a month, some for three months or six. It was expected that the first intake of children would die within days: some, fifteen months later, are still alive. Before-and-after photographs show sad little human skeletons transformed into smiling children, not yet showing the signs of death.

When Mother Allyne and I visited the Hospice before Christmas, we were immensely struck by what had been achieved. The little zombies admitted in March 1992 had learned in less than a year to receive love, to give love, and to play. Some showed healthy signs of sheer wickedness ! The founder of 'Children in Distress', the Revd. Dr John Walmsley, an Anglican priest from Essex, has invited C.S.M.V. to set up a chaplaincy in the Hospice, and Sister Elizabeth Anne and I are the first two sisters to go to Romania, starting the new work towards the end of July.

The only thing I need to add is that I expect to be there for six months, returning to Wantage round about the end of January 1994. I won't write more now, except to ask for your prayers, both for the work of the Hospice and for the two of us as we start our work there."

By the time you read this you will be back, but I am sure your request for prayers will be granted by all who read your letter, Dierdrie.

While writing this I was interrupted by a telephone call from Dipak Sengupta. His voice is always welcome but more so this time as he had Amit Bose with him. Amit is here for quite a few months, so I shall be seeing him as soon as he has fixed his accommodation and settled down in Milton Keynes. We will, hopefully, be able to form some further plans about his proposal for a reunion in 1995. From feed‑back I have received to date, October seems to be the preferred option. Amit plans to be at our June reunion.

I realise that this is a VADHA newsletter, but for those who are interested Molly Gauntlett (Sheldon) gave me a taped copy of "The Anglo‑Indian Song" that is sung at A.I. "Do's" in OZ and Canada. Quite patriotic it is, too.

Marjorie Pink (Cosserat) writes, "It is sad to hear of the passing of old boys and girls. To me they remain as boys and girls. Like Peter Pan they have never grown up in my memory. They remain as they were in the magical time of our childhood and youth. How very fortunate we were."

Yes, Marjorie, it is sad, and to me more so because I have to be the bearer of the news. Since my last letter we have lost Lawrence Newbould in Canada, Pamela Gabriel (Malcolm) in Australia, and Henry Summers in the UK. If you remember, Gordon Summers died last year. I have had a 'phone call from Gordon's son, Peter, asking me for information about the nuns in Gonda. I have not been able to get any, but if anyone can help, he would be obliged.

To go back to the first part of my newsletter - Australia - (no groans please). The single statement that keeps re-echoing in my heart was made by Sally Stewart's son, John. He is a very sincere person and I struck up an instant rapport with him*. He asked to take a picture of Sally and me together as he said, "You seem more like sisters. The years divided you at all." Yes, we VADHANs know this, but it is obvious ‑ obvious to, the world.

May 1994 keep usall in love and writing,

Grace.

Amendments for the Address List:‑

Please delete:

Essie Leclunere,

Gordon Summers,

Pamela Gabriel, (deceased)

Jill BUTCHER,(Adams)

Joey BOSE,

Eileen Dameron,

R.A.GREENE ‑ Please call him Richard,

Jennifer KREBS (King)

Gary SWAN‑BROWN

Peter SWAN‑GROWN,

Mike BLAKE,

Charles DOWNEY,

Phyllis GOW (Papi).

Thelina JOHNS (Miller).

Percy SMART,

Keith BALL,

Pam HUSSEY

Rena MORE (Lowe)

Janet MEAD (Simpson)

Doreen MARSDEN

Mrs Andrea ANDERSON (Fernandez)

Mrs Elaine ANDREWS (Brown)

Mrs Dorothy ANTHONY (Wheeler)

Mr Derek AVERY

Mr Dudley Avery

Mr Robert AVERY

Miss Maureen BAKER

Mr Derek BAKER

Mr Ashley BAKER.

Mr T.R. (Harry) BALL -

Mrs Olga BARKER (D'Sena)

Mr David BEALE

Mrs EN BEALE (Mavis Earle)

Mr Walter BEEBY

Mrs Joan BENISTON (Wakefield)

Miss Myrtle BERRY

Mr Neville C BIRD

Mr George BISHOP

Mr Amit BOSE

Mrs Cecilia BOYLE (Earle)

Capt Owen A BREESE

Mrs Evelyn BROUGHTON_SMART

Mrs Crystal BRWON (Clifford)

Miss Lorna BUCKLE

Mrs Jill BUTCHER (Adams)

Mrs Joan BUTLER (Gasper)

Mrs Audrey CALLAHAN (Clump)

Mr Clarence CALLOW

Miss Ina CAMERON

Mr Geoff L.E.CARRAU

Mrs Veda CHARLTON (Andrews)

Sister Deirdre Michael CLARK

Mr Noel D. CLARK

Mrs Margaret CLERICI

Mr Peter CLIFFURD

Mrs Denise COELHO (Winsome-Fink)

Mrs Edith COLLINS (Berry)

Mrs Zoe COLLINS (Lawrence)

Mrs Lorna CUNLIFFE (Carrau)

Mrs Beatrice DaLUZ (Morgan)

Mr Les DARING

Mrs Crystal DAVID (Cowen)

Mrs Lorna DAWES (LaRivierre)

Mr Donald DAWSON

Mrs Maureen DAWSON (O'Connell)

Mrs Sheila FERNANDEZ

Mr Stanley FISHER

Mrs Muriel GLENDINNING

Mrs Rita GORDON (Shea)

Mrs Rita GRAHAM (Pinto)

Mrs Richard GREENE

Mrs Sheila GRIEFF (Galbraith)

Mrs Gloria GRIPTON (Sadler)

Mr Robert HALE

Mr Lewis HARDY

Mrs Joan HARTLEY (Gogerly)

Mr Leonard HATTON.

MrMaxwell HATTON

Mrs Alice HIGGINSON (Saunders)

MrsBarbara HODGES

Mrs Alethea HOLMAN (Potter)

Mrs Cynthia HORROCKS-MURPHY (Walze)

Mrs Edna HOWARD (Bennett)

Mr Trevelyn HOWE

Mrs Florence HOWMAN (Strelley)

Mrs Rosemary INGELS (LaRIvierre)

Mrs Dorothea INGLIS (Myers)

Mrs Yvonne JACKSON (Keymer)

Mrs Edwina JONES (Godenho)

Mrs Joy JONES (Godfrey)

Miss Joyce KEENAN

Mr Mike KELLY

Mrs Dorothea KING (Hatton)

Miss Joyce KNOWLES

Mrs Jennifer KREBS (King)

Mrs Elizabeth LAW (Berry)

Mr Vernon C. LECORRE

Mrs Barbara LEON (Phillips)

Miss Peggy LITTLEWOOD

Mr John Lochner

Mr Douglas LOVING

Mrs 0lga LOVING

Mrs Yvonne MACFARLANE (Beale)

Mrs Esthere MAELZER (Mordecai)

Mrs Marian PIANUEL (Porter)

Mr A.R. (Dick) MEADE

Mrs Heather MURPHY (Dawson)

Mr Clive Murray-Smith

Mrs Megan MYERS (O'Rourke)

Mr Tom NEWBOULD

Mrs Cherry PATEMAN (Vaillant)

Mrs Grace PEREIRA (Lochner)

Mrs Marjorie PINK (Cosserat)

Mrs Valerie PLOVER (Ball)

Mrs D. PRINS

Rev.Ganon Stanley PRINS

Mr John QUINLAN

Mrs Dora RANDALL (Matthews)

Mrs Patricia REDMOND (Skill)

Mrs Arleen RICE (D'Sena)

Mr Noel ROBERTS

Mr Bruce St.John ROBERTSON

Mrs Thelma RONDEL (Bird)

Mrs Bhakti SAXANTA (Rana)

Mrs Irene SEAMAN (Kent)

Mr Ronald SEYMOUR-SHOVE

Mr Dipak SENGUPTA

Mr Geoffrey SLACKE

Mrs Nora SLACKE (Younan)

Mr Richard SLACKE

Mrs Yvonne Sl~ITH (Vaillant)

Mrs Nora SOLOMON

Mrs Joan SORAINE (Bird)

Mrs Pat STANLEY (O'Rourke)

Mrs Joan STEINHOUSE (Peters)

Miss Freda STEWART

Mrs Iris STEVENS (Ball)

Mrs Edith STIFFLE

Mrs Elizabeth SUMMERS

Mr Gary SWAN-BROWN

.1r Peter SWAN-BROWN

Mr Kevin SWEENEY

Miss Maureen SWEENEY

Mrs Daphne THOMPSON (Papi)

Mrs Barbara TUSK

Mrs Gwen UPSHON (Howe)

Miss Merna &WAKEFIELD

Mr William

Mrs Clare WALTON (Pereira)

Mrs Irene WAYMAN (Sheldon)

Mrs Doreen WELLS (Young)

Mr Des WHITE (Dolly's husb.)

Mrs Deidre WICKHAM (Slacke)

"i.~,irs Peggy WILSON (Bennett)"

Miss Norma YOUNG

AUSTRALIA & NEW ZEALAND.

Mrs Noelene ATKINSON (Bennett)

Mr William BARLOW

Mr James BAYFORD

Mr Mike BLAKE

Mrs Cynthia BRENNAN (Marsden)

Mrs Betty BROWN (Copley)

Mrs Catterine BUCKLEY(Morrison)

Mrs Mavis COLE (Hilton)

Mrs Kate D'ABREW (Wallace)

Mr Charles DOWNEY

Mr Maurice GALESTINE

Mr Charles GASPER

Mrs Molly GAUNTLETTE (Sheldon)

Mr Derrick GOW

Mr Horace GOW

Mrs Phyllis GOE (Papi)

Mrs Joan GREEN (Ashe)

Mrs Doreen GREZOUX (Colah)

Mr Peter GROUT

Mrs Elaine HALPIN (Halifax)

Mrs Phyllis HARRISON(Marsden)

Mrs Grace HYRAPIET (Jacobs)

Mrs Thelma JOHNS (Miller)

Mrs Thelma KELLY (Johnstone)

Mrs Cynthia LAKE (O'Hara)

Mr Lawrence Lake

Mrs Beth LEPAGE (Reay-Young)

Mrs Kathleen LOPEZ

Mr P.P. MACFARLANE

Mrs Janet MEAD (Simpson)

Mrs Lorna MITCHELL (Rennick)

Mrs Rena MORE (Lowe)

Mrs April MOSTENT (Johnstone)

Mrs Daphne MURRAY (Malcolm)

Mr William MURRAY

Mrs Natalie NONEY (Lawrence)

Mrs Phyllis PERCIE-PAINE

Mr Hugh RASSABY

Mr Maurice RASSABY

Mrs Dorothea RATCLIFFE (Browne)

Mr Richard RENNICK

Mrs Angela SAND (Sassoon)

Mrs Doreen SCOTT (Culloden)

Mrs Daphne SCHIRRIPA (Meade)

Mr D.T.WALLSKI

Mr Donald WATSON

Mr George WATSON

Mr Peter YOUNG

REST OF THE WORLD.

Mrs Olga ANKELSARIA (Watson)

Mrs Ethel BAYNES (Berry)

Mr Leslie BUCKLE

Mr S.CHATTERJEE

Miss Ruth & Miss Norma GASPER

Dr. Amar GOSH

Mrs Patricia HITZ (Lee)

Mrs Joyce LEY (Hayling)

Frau METZELSCHWAB (Manuel)

Mrs Hazel MORRISON (Francis)

Mrs Daphne MUKERJI (Colah)

Mrs Valmai MUSCHONG

Mr Fergus NUGENT

Mr Colin PRICE

Mrs Doreen SETZINGER (Marsden)

Col. Nirmal SIRKAR

Mr Brian WAKEFILLD

Hema Nair

A RAINBOW IN THE LIVING ROOM

Week after week,

On Saturday afternoons,

you came and spread out our

clean selves on the red Kashmiri living-room carpet.

"The dhobi’s come! The washerman's come!"

I would call from the sofa, where I sat reading.

Dhobi. That was my name for you.

My mother began the search for her brown diary,

her "dhobi book" which always disappeared mysteriously

between one week to another,

While you sat crosslegged in the middle

of the carefully smoothened white sheet

and began stacking the clothes around you in firm blocks.

Khaki slabs of my father's uniform

Candy-striped wall of my sister's and my school uniforms

Long black and brown squares of my brother's trousers

Red, cream, yellow, pink, green layers of mother's saris

next to which stood its matching blouses

like butterflies with folded wings

Last of all were the stiff rectangles of snowy sheets

and the sombre mountain of puffy turkish towels.

Behind the barricades of our clothes

you sat and waited,

waited for my mother to tick off each item from her neat list.

Once we were driving past arid I saw a tumbling stream whose

steep, grassy banks were a palette of patchy colours,

like a gigantic scarecrow stretched out on the ground.

"What's that?" I asked and my mother replied,

"That's the dhobi ghat,

where all the dhobi wash and drv our clothes."

I heard the sharp thwack of on rocks

and saw donkeys staggering up with dry loads

to be ironed braying in mournful echo.

It was like watching a painting come alive.

It says six blouses here, my mother would tap the nib significantly

But I only see five.

How your hands would scurry among the piles searching,

lifting, peering. I would pray that you would not find it for

I saw the lone blouse, forgotten on the grass,

listening to the wind blowing ripples on the water

and the grass moving in secret dance underneath it.

Sometimes you would find it. Hidden, perhaps,

under the pile of towels,

and with a wide, tobacco-coloured smile you patted

onto its rightful pile.

Sometimes, the missing piece remained absent.

There were threats and pleas,

frowns and promises

and my mother would underscore the number on her page with a

fat line, like a sleeping exclamation mark.

Finally, the neat piles would be lifted up and taken inside,

And a huge, shaky mountain of

stale-smelling clothes

would tumble on the sheet.

An uneasy pyramid of our collective week's life.

Fastidiously nimbly , you picked each one up,

shook it, searched pockets,

pointed out loose buttons

before throwing it on its individual pile.

My mother *would write, 12 shirts, 5 pants, 3 curtains

When everything was counted and accounted for,

you gathered four ends of the sheet

into four tight knots,

and swung it up on your bowed back with a grunt.

Have a cup of tea, my mother would say

now that hostilities had been suspended

No, no, you would answer most often, I have two more houses

to go to and stagger out,

an Atlas carrying our begrimed world.

I'd go to the window and see you tie our

bundle to the others,

swinging from the end of your bicycle

and watch you ride off,

like a skinny beetle carrying four wobbly

soft-boiled eggs.

I knew you would come back next week

with crisp, clean clothes exuding

a faint scent of sun-dried grass and charcoal smoke,

a scent, as soothing as the sandalwood whiff when

I hugged my mother before going to school.

It is only now, in this country, clothes

where I have to clean and iron and fold my family’s

that I remember those Saturday afternoons

when you spread a rainbow on our living room carpet.

and I am desolate,

because I never knew your name.

“HEDLEY”

I

A true story about a dear school friend “one of us”

Hedley was one class ahead of me. A very quiet strong upright character with a very strong sense of patriotism more ‘British than the British’ Someone I could look up to and admire. We often discussed the progress of the war. He was shattered with the news of the evacuation from Dunkirk, and proud when the Graf Spee was scuttled. News from Burma worried him.

In I944 he said that he wanted to learn school and “join up”. He was big for his age and looked a few years older than he was. He was barely 16 but looked at least 18/19 years of age. (I was barely 14 years of age at that time). He finally decided to leave in mid-term. We never saw or heard about or from him again. I often wondered what had happened and where he was. It would be about another four years before I finally found out.

I had left college and had started working in a Jute Mill 28 miles north of Calcutta. One day I went to the 'Grail Club" in Calcutta for a dance. It was the sort of place a young blade would go to socialise. I saw a pretty young lady, watched her for a few minutes, then plucked up some courage, timidly walked slowly over to her, and eventually asked her for a dance.

We chatted, I asked her for her name, she asked me for mine. I told her, and she stopped dancing and looked at me with the most incredible look of disbelief on her face. She almost fainted, then said "We’ve been looking for you for years". I guess I was scared stiff. I asked myself what did she mean, who and why were they looking for me? After a few minutes she recovered

Her composure and having checked my identity again, she hastened to explain. It was a most incredible and amazing story; I was completely and utterly transfixed.

Her brother, Hedly, had left school, determined to take part in the war. He bluffed his age and enlisted. After a training period he was posted to fight the Japs in Burma. He wrote home a couple of times - then silence. The War Office finally informed his parents that he had been badly wounded in action, and removed to a hospital. Just before he died he wrote a short simple will. In it he made one request, namely that his Bible should be given to his friend, Peter Gifford. That was all, nothing else was mentioned. The War Office returned the bible with other personal effects. Hedley was brought home for burial. His parents grieved wondered who Peter Clifford

was, and where was he? They enquired, but without success. After searching very hard for two years they finally, reluctantly gave up.

Then the incredible chance meeting. I visited the family and his mother said she would like to keep the bible. I agreed; but his father insisted, their son's fast dying wish should be respected, and would I please look after the bible. I promised that I would, that was in 1948. Hedley’s bible has been looked after as he would have liked me so to do. It has always had a special place in my heart and home. It has always been very humbling to think that when my friend lay in pain on his battlefield deathbed he found the time to remember me and leave his treasured bible to me.

QUO LUX DUCIT .

The mists of time obscure my view, of scenes when I was young.

When the sap of life surged through my veins with victories anthems sung.

Three score years and ten have passed, yet still I strive to see

Some glimpses in the youth that was, of the man I was to be.

In a far off land that time forgot, I first saw light of day.

There, privilege ruled and we were schooled to honour and obey.

Stricken with malaria, kala azar and some more;

Oh how I strived to open wide, the portals of death's door.

At the age of five I left the hive, enlightenment to seek.

In Kidderpore, the lions roar lulled my weary bones to sleep.

As a veteran then of seven years I was dispatched to find,

What the playing fields of Eton, had done to half mankind.

We journeyed long from plain to hill, on trains both large arid toy.

With sedan chair and bhutia tat, what methods we employ

To reach Parnassus: where at last life's wisdom is distilled,

And portioned out to eager minds till all our cups were filled.

Those fortress walls, the red tin roofs, the drumming of the rain.

Those concrete troughs, though a metre wide, inadequate as drains.

Distant peaks in summer snow, the forests all around;

Where cicadas evade the eye, yet deafen with their sound.

No boundary walls did us confine, and thus we ventured far;

Yet reined in by the distant bell that ruled our every hour.

We made catapults and pop-guns, and conkers with their strings.

We collected newts and beetles, almost anything with wings.

With marbles, gully dunda and tops to name a few,

We sharpened competition's edge, and did friendships bond renew.

Then cricket, football, hockey; each season's game we played.

In Sam Brown belts, with rifles mute, we even held parades.

Victoria is the name and victory the goal;

But, only victory with magnanimity, is fodder for the soul.

The vanquished often know who wins, before tile starter's gun.

Yet, it matters less to whom the spoils, it's how the race was run.

From Dow Hill school so close at hand but oh so out of reach;

There came those visions. tunic clad. to hear our padre preach,

How we did gaze and were amazed when they glanced shyly back.

Oh how the, smile lit up her eyes! Was her hair brown or black ?

In a programme once a month, to improve our social graces

We had a chance, if we could dance, to steal a few embraces.

But occasions such as these, were few and far between:

For measles, mumps or chicken pox, would impose a quarantine,

Encompassed round by laws and rules, we probed at their defences

For we were young and venturesome, and sometimes lost our senses.

But, painfully we learned the truth, a maxim for all time;

That somewhere, somehow you will find, the punishment fits the crime.

Aladdin's lamp could scarce devise events within my ken;

From desert wastes to polar climes, raging seas to mountain glen.

From villages to marble halls, from rulers to the ruled,

I've trod Life’s boards. to some applause, in a manner I was schooled.

A tribute, by Captain Owen Arthur Breese. Dated February I995.

Dedicated to the memory of Carl Bloud.