My First School

OK, I shall try to be brief.
Picture shows a man (me) standing in front of a building out of which we are concerned only with the old shabby-looking rectangular room with a front verandah almost in the middle (ignore the rest of the structures please).

Believe it or not this was the room in which I sat for my first and second grade (Parraow School, Urdu primary portion, yes there was a Hindi primary also in the same compound not seen in the picture)

Go back to 1937-8 in Saugor C.P. India. I was barely 4-5 years old going to school with (my first and fourth class teacher) 'Jumman Janabji' (No relation to Jumanji) on his bike. Sitting on the bicycle in front of the driver's seat with kaccha and pucca roads was not necessarily very pleasant experience for my 'tashreef' but that was the only ride available (To brief you on Jumman Janabji, he was our 'family teacher' and he loved us so much that he named his owm children as Wahaj and Meraj- my older brother's name). I being his favorite did not mean he will not twist my ears if I made mistake especially 'Zabaani hisab' , boy! how I dreaded that class;I was not very good nor very confident in Zabaani Hisab.

Right about where I am standing there used to be a big (probably peepal) tree under which sometimes we would have our class. All students stand well-distanced from each other and in rows sparated. Janabji will utter those frightening words composing a zabaani(oral) calculation or zarab (Multiplication) or taqseem (division), whatever and we would write the answer on the slate and put it down, face down, on the ground. Here comes now the master and looks at my slate; my heart racing mad and skin has bugs crawling all over, ears ringing and cold sweats etc. and he looks up unsmiling at me and advances his hand towards my ears. Well I know my answer was wrong that time.

After the whole day all children stand in this compound to recite 'paharra' or whatever else needed to be memorized. (yes I still remember the "tehseels of Saogor from that time, preserved locked up in my memory) They will scream at the top of their voices (Just like thay do in the Punjab) and will go like this:

Do aikum do; do duay char; do tiyay cchay, do chokay aath......... doi dham bees. (2x10=20)
(Panjabi equivalent) Ikk dooni do-ay; do dooni chaaray; tinn dooni chhay; chaar dooni atthhe......... dus dooni veeh-ay.

For some reason I have always been very shy and it started in that rectangular room. One student will come out in the verandah from one door and the other one from the other door. They will meet in the verandah and say Asslamualaikum to each other and make Musafaha (handshake). It was good teaching and I clearly recall I was extremely shy to say those words. I always sat with my friend Shafi-ullah(Died 1950), then Haleem (a retired Lawyer in Bhopal now) and then Ishaque (retired school master in Saugor). When we moved to Municipal school in 5th class we were on a bench (for four) rather than a 'Taat", like in the "Parrow school". When I visite Ishaque now he still remembered how much I scored in Primary exam standing first etc. he still lives in the same place he lived with his father then.

Under that tree one more thing I remember is trying to write the most difficult word of Urdu (for me ) to write on my slate; 'Khainch-ta' (The railway engine dragging the whole train).
That ground never had grass. but we played during 'plaiver' (play hour) on it. Sometimes we had other games and competition like "Rassa-kashi" and I cant remember who was the heqaviest guy with us at one end and who was the strongest in front. I, being little with not much power was in the middle somewhere tugging the rope.

O! there were so many memories unlocked there I could not believe. Ishaq was not with me at that time physically but had a heartful of reminescences with him. Like I told them (Haleem and Ishaque) when leaving after a very short time;

"Haif der chashm-e-zadan suhbat-e-yaar aakhir shud
Roo-e-gul sair nadeedaim-o-bahaar aakhir shud"

Oh that in the blink of an eye the company of my friend is over already
I have barely seen the face of the rose and the spring is over already