Today, as I strive to travel back half a century to my schooldays at Vanita Sadana, a virtual pageant of nostalgic memories (Yaadoan ki Jamboosavaari) invades my sinking skull, making it hard for me to present a cogent view here. At the vanguard of this procession is the annual Drama Festival (interschool drama competition hosted by Vanita Sadana), which was the talk of the town in Mysore in those blissful, pre-TV days. I particularly remember the evening when “Sohrab and Rustum” was staged, and I must say that one could hardly spot a dry eye in that audience, as Sohrab lay dying after being stabbed by Rustum.
Sports, too, held centre stage in our life at Vanita Sadana, and there was an element of excitement even in our routine sports activities, as Red, Blue, Green and Yellow Houses engaged in a friendly competition for the top-spot, almost everyday.
Storytelling and storybook-distribution sessions constituted yet another “Vanita Sadana Special.” Unable to wait for these weekly events, I used to rush to the children’s library at Amma’s house every evening to grab books of my own choice -- a “mania” that was duly recognized and encouraged by the librarian. Just like storytelling, singing too was a regular classroom activity and some of Rafi’s Jungli songs and PBS’s SwarnaGouri songs, neatly reproduced by my classmates, still resonate in my ears.
It might sound strange today that many of us pursued hobbies like collection of feathers, matchbox labels, emptied cigarette-packs and “cricket pictures,” apart from stamps, and there existed a barter system for exchange precious pieces of collection between two hobbyists.
We used to make cotton threads on the spinning wheel Takali and this performance, along with our personal hygiene and classroom behaviour, used to be systematically assessed for recording in the famous Varadi Pustaka.
Beyond the school hours, we were playing Goli, Bugari, ChinniDaandu, Gultoria (?!), Marakothi, KuntayBille, HallaGuliManay, Pagade, ChowkaBaara and a variety of other indigenous folk games, now on the endangered or extinct list. Many of us would make our own kites for the Patada Habba, and several were experts in making and using the “missile-launcher” Kyaataribillu (catapult).
Was it, then, a life of “all play and no work”? Of course not, but academic work was not ‘celebrated’ at the expense of natural life experience in those joyful schooling days. And we certainly were never the weaker for it.
We were about 40 (boys and girls) in my class and I have no doubt most of them will concur with the view I have painted here -- if they happen to notice it, that is. [At this distance in time, I can reel off at least 25 names from our batch. In fact, I can recall the names of a number of my juniors and seniors as well, particularly because, almost always, they happened to be the siblings of my own classmates.]
Well, why should I presume that this view is proprietary to me or my batch alone? To be sure, there are thousands of happy, grateful VanitAlumni out there – right from pre-Independence to post-ChandraYaan era -- who tend to think “Bliss was it in those golden times to be alive, But to be in Vanita Sadana was very Nandana!”
Come, let us form a thousands-strong Platinum Chain around Vanita Sadana and present a massed chorus of “Jai Ho!” to our Alma Mater.
S G Seetharam
(A relic from Vanita Sadana’s TreytaaYuga)
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