The school that never differentiated between rich and poor

The school that never differentiated between rich and poor
Batch of 59'. Loyolla Hall, St. Xavier's High School, Ahmedabad. State of Bombay (now Gujarat). January 24, 1959

Batch of 59'. Loyolla Hall, St. Xavier's High School, Ahmedabad. Bombay Presidency (now Gujarat). January 24, 1959 Image and Narrative contributed by Suresh Mandan, California, USA This is the picture of us in Class 12, who met for the Day of Orientation, at our Loyolla Hall School in Ahmedabad, Bombay State (now in Gujarat). I stand on the top, third from the left. Among the most popular of the teachers was our Sports teacher Brother Bou, (sitting first from the right). A very fierce teacher, the Ahmedabad Football Association now even runs a Tournament in his name called the Br. Bou Trophy. I was not sure whether I will ever look at this picture again and that too after almost 54 years. But since I have I cannot help but remember all that thoughts that it triggers. It was photographed on January 24,1959, the day of our graduation from School life to the oncoming college life. Our School held an Orientation Class to help us to assess the new world which we would facing in the Life. The control of the school authorities would be gone, the regimentation of the Principal and the Teachers would be gone, a watch on our behaviour would be gone and we would be in an environment where there would be no restrictions to attend the class, to study or to play. We were to make our own decisions regarding what colleges we chose, the faculty we selected as well as the new relationships we formed with friends and girl friends. This was the theme of our Orientation. Ahmedabad at the time was not a part of Gujarat, as the Gujarat state formed only in 1960.…

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“A friend from my childhood I had never met”

“A friend from my childhood I had never met”
My Letter to Jean Christophes. Bombay. August 10, 1972.

My Letter to Jean Christophes. Bombay. August 10, 1972. Letter & Narrative contributed by Denzil Smith, Mumbai This letter carries with it an amazing story that always has me grin ear to ear with joy. My family are Anglo Indians and until a few years ago lived in a family bungalow in Ville Parle in Bombay. My father Benjamin John Smith was a Customs officer in Bombay and perhaps one of the few honest black sheep amongst the white embroiled in dishonest deeds. To get relief from tough days at the office, my father would find release with music. He was adept at both reading and writing music, played several instruments and when opportunity called he even travelled with the famed Paranjoti Choir all over the world. At one such opportunity he travelled to Tours in France with the choir in 1966. The members of the choir were usually put up by local classical music aficionados at their homes in each city; and a certain Dr. Boulard and his family were to be my father's kind hosts in Tours.The day my father reached the Doctor’s mansion, eagerly awaiting him at the gate was the Doctor’s son, a 6 year old French boy, Jean, who had waited for my father in anticipation of seeing an Indian for three whole days. 
At first sight and to his shock the boy ran inside and wept copiously to his father, complaining “Where are his feathers!?” Clearly my brown father in a suit and tie was not the "Indian" he was expecting. Despite the initial disappointment, my father and Jean became very fond of each other and when he returned to India, dad told me that Jean…

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A spring in our lives

A spring in our lives
Soni and I. Faridabad. 1975

Soni and I. Faridabad. 1975 Image and Narrative contributed by Adit Dave, Delhi In 1975 my family and I moved to Delhi from Assam. After college I began working with the Government of India in various departments of administration. I called myself a Sarkari Naukar, a government Servant, because it really did feel like that. However, I had a passion for Motor Bikes and Rock Music, and it always made everything better. This image was taken in the spring of 1982, and as I call it, also the spring of our lives. I had met my girlfriend Soni just a few months ago, at a New Year’s party; she was introduced to me by her sister. She used to work with a well known home accessories store called, The Shop at Connaught place, near Regal Cinema in Delhi. I remember this day clearly. Delhi weather in spring was just wonderful and it was also great for a motorcycle ride into the wilderness. I had donned my usual old hand-me-down army great coat, pulled on my helmet and tooled on over on my trusty Royal Enfield bike (a third hand purchase for Rs. 3000) to pick up my new girlfriend Soni for a short adventure outside the city.The air was cold and crisp, and with good friends along on the ride we were the right ingredients for a joyous time ahead. We headed out onto the Faridabad Highway. without a plan, and soon found ourselves riding a narrow dirt road to Surajkund. The “Kund” or lake, existed then and I think we even went for a boat ride. Simple pleasures like Paranthas and Andaa bhurji at a dhaba (road side restaurant) were…

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A love story borne out of love for cinema

A love story borne out of love for cinema
My Father Jagdish and mother Usha at their wedding. Old Delhi. December 12, 1954.

My Father Jagdish and mother Usha at their wedding. Old Delhi. December 12, 1954. Image and Narrative contributed by Renu Shukla, Jaipur This picture is of mom Usha Sharma and my Dad Jagdishwar Nath Sharma right after their marriage ceremony on December 12, 1954. My mother at the time was only 15 years old & my father was 23.  He was the Assistant Commissioner with the Income Tax Department in Jaipur, Rajasthan and my mother was studying in 10th Standard. She completed her education after marriage. My mother Usha was exceptionally fond of movies and so was my father. He was studying Law (LLB) in Agra at the time and on a serendipitous day decided to visit his hometown, Ajmer, Rajasthan, for holidays along with some of his friends. Young blooded, the friends and he spontaneously made a detour to Delhi for a fun day & also to watch a movie. The latest movie at the time "Barsaat" had been running in Moti Mahal, a well known theatre at the time in Chandani Chowk, Old Delhi. Describing that fated day, my mother would tell us, that she too, along with her cousins, had landed up to watch the same movie and she noticed 'this strange boy in the front seat who would keep turning around to stare at her continuously!' She was into the movie, yet was beginning to get more and more annoyed with this shameless fellow whose stares were distracting her. So much so, that ultimately and in a huff the girls left  the theatre half way through the movie, cursing the boy away. What she did not know, was that the boys too left and followed the girls…

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A visit to the Taj Mahal after returning an abducted girl to her family

A visit to the Taj Mahal after returning an abducted girl to her family
My mother Meenakshi Surve posing by the Taj Mahal. Agra, Uttar Pradesh. 1978

My mother Meenakshi Surve posing by the Taj Mahal. Agra, Uttar Pradesh. 1978 Image and Narrative contributed by Vaibhav Bhosle, Mumbai At the time this photograph was taken, my mother was in her third year of her employment with the State Police of Maharashtra and was on an official trip to Agra. The purpose of this journey was to return an abducted girl, a native of Uttar Pradesh who was found and rescued by the police in Bombay (Mumbai). After the girl was returned safely to her parents, my mother Meenakshi and a female colleague accompanied by a male senior staff had a few hours to spare before their train's departure to Bombay. My mother wanted to visit the Agra Fort but her colleague wanted to see the Taj Mahal. Eventually she agreed to visit the Taj Mahal, where this picture was taken by a local photographer. My mother is the second eldest amongst five siblings, and was born to Yashwant & Shalini Surve in Chiplun, a sleepy village at the time in Ratnagiri, Maharashtra. When my grandfather Yashwant, a farmer, suffered huge losses in his grocery business, he had no choice but to relocate to Bombay in search for a better job. My grandmother along with all the children moved to her maternal home and took up odd farm jobs to add to the sustenance. After many years of struggling, my grandfather eventually did find a job in Dalda company and could afford a princely sum of Rs 500 to buy an apartment in the suburbs of Bombay, only then he had his family to move to Bombay. New to a big city, and with five children, my grandparents' means…

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