“When you’re a little kid, you are a bit of everything-artist, scientist, athlete, scholar. Sometimes, it seems growing up is like a process of giving those things up, one by one.”
– The Wonder Years.
When you live in Besant Nagar and your school is in Mandavalli, the one hour trip on the school bus to and from your school everyday, makes you an expert on every bylane, every little nook and corner, of Madras. St John’s higher secondary school was huge and we had several sections for each class. And there was a busload of students in our school from Besant Nagar, which had a lot of residential quarters including the central government CPWD quarters where I lived.
Every evening, those of us who were to board the bus home, would sit in a separate classroom, before getting on. On one such evening, our Principal and the founder of our school (a man we called the Correspondent) came to our class room as we waited for the bus and asked all of us who lived in Besant Nagar to raise our hands. Dozens of hands went up and this sparked an excited discussion between the two. Shortly afterwards it was announced in the assembly that the school was opening a new branch in Besant Nagar from the next school year, which would be a walkable distance from my house.
It was a strange feeling going to school the next year. Instead of setting off on the bus an hour early and picking up students from all over the city, now I could saunter to school just five minutes before the bell rang. It was a little like going to a new school, because the location, the building and many of the faces were new. But it wasn’t quite so, as more than half the students in our class were those with whom we had gone to school before. A few of the teachers were familiar too.
One main difference was that now we had only one section in each class and we in the seventh standard, were the second most senior class, as the school had students only up to the eighth standard. This not only made us VIPs but gave us a close knit feeling that was absent in our previous ‘main school’. I was in the school choir and with other classmates would participate in most of the school stage programmes. We had a very smart English teacher who was only twenty three then and in her first posting. She later transferred to Central school, Thambaram and went on to win the President’s National award for best teacher last year. She was a Jim Reeves fan who was enthusiastic in helping us with our skits, dances and the choir. She would teach us prayer songs for the regular assembly.
During Christmas, she would teach us carols. There would be an Xmas tableau every year where students would dress up as Joseph, Mary, angels and the three kings, with a doll dressed up as baby Jesus in a crib inside a barn. And we in the choir would sing the carols, one after the other. Joining us in these sessions was a fair, slightly chubby, short, sweet-faced boy with a mop of thick, straight hair flopping on to his face, who was in the sixth standard. For some strange reason, he was not a part of our regular choir, but he was the undisputed star of the Xmas choir. He had a very melodious voice, one of the sweetest I have heard in real life, a soprano : high pitched and clear as a bell. He would start off with a solo rendition of “We three kings of Orient are” and the rest of us in the choir would join him in the chorus.
I never registered or remembered his name, but his remarkable voice was the highlight of the Xmas tableau and one of my many cherished memories from this much beloved school, which I had to unfortunately leave after a couple of years, when my father got posted to New Delhi.
I have always enjoyed the columns in the Hindu written by Baradwaj Rangan. What I loved best (apart from the impeccable language and the wicked sense of humour) was how personal his writing was. When he wrote about Madras,
the movies and songs of his childhood or sometimes about something totally random, like a Steve Winwood song from the eighties that I had forgotten all about until his post
reminded me of it, struck chords so close to home, that he was for me, the literary equivalent of the singer in the Roberta Flack song, “Killing me softly”.
Years back, when I joined Facebook, I reconnected with many of the classmates from my old school, and as a common friend commenting underneath their posts, I saw the name Baradwaj Rangan. To my surprise, I learnt that the Hindu coloumnist I so liked, had gone to the same school as I had, and had been one year my junior. I sent him a friend request but felt a little sad that I had no recollection of who he was. I was picturing a pocket sized version of BR as he was right now, in the St John’s school uniform and try as I might, I couldn’t recall anyone who remotely fit that picture. I discovered his blog through the links he shared on FB and started reading the interesting conversations there.
Once I messaged him, trying to jog my memory and I enumerated all the juniors I remembered, to see if he was one of them. To my utter surprise, BR confessed that he was the boy in the choir. He was the boy with the golden voice, the soprano star of our Xmas tableau, whose then unbroken, girlish, perfectly pitched voice, I still remember perfectly. To be quite honest, I still have trouble reconciling BR with that school boy because it seems a little bizarre that someone whose voice as a child I’ve been so mesmerised by, should turn out to mesmerise me later in life for a totally different (but as exceptional) talent.
Authored by tonks, who comments here.
MANK
April 19, 2017
OMG. This is the Apocalypse .
Tonks, this piece was quite a revelation.
specially liked this section
To my utter surprise, BR confessed that he was the boy in the choir. He was the boy with the golden voice, the soprano star of our Xmas tableau, whose then unbroken, girlish, perfectly pitched voice, I still remember perfectly
now let me close my eyes and imagine Brangan in his knickers singing in that girly soprano voice 🙂
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Srinivas R
April 19, 2017
I was a little confused about where this is heading, but a surprising end, so BR, may i request some you tube videos in that golden voice of yours 🙂
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Divya
April 19, 2017
Beautifully written!
The description of that little boy reminds me of Chuck from ‘The Maze Runner’ except for the straight hair..
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tonks
April 19, 2017
You’d need a Time Turner or a Back to the future -Time machine for reversing puberty to get back that soprano, Sreenivas 🙂
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shaviswa
April 19, 2017
WOW!! 🙂
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Honest Raj (formerly 'V'enkatesh)
April 19, 2017
So Nirosha was BR’s senior?
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ramitbajaj01
April 19, 2017
What a pleasant surprise! This blog is a treasure trove!
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lakshmi
April 19, 2017
When I reached the Christmas carols part, I was sure it was about BR and immediately scrolled down to see who the author is.
tonks: The opening quote is perfect for this piece. Nicely written. Made me wish I were in your place.
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Madan
April 19, 2017
Wow, lovely, lovely piece. Superb writing. I was about to lose the thread for a bit when you – tonks – started to mention BR’s writing on Madras. Little did I know that it was just a super set up a uppu.
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Jerina S
April 19, 2017
Jaw drop moment. Wow, just wow. Now would love to hear you sing BR. Second Srinivas here. Please to oblige for us loyalists 🙂
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praneshp
April 20, 2017
with a mop of thick, straight hair flopping on to his face
Ha ha, trying to imagine how that brangan looked like.
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pali120rs
April 20, 2017
“Andha kozhandhaiyae naan thaan sir” moment
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Jyoti S Kumar
April 20, 2017
But why only carols, BR sir?
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Naveen
April 20, 2017
gr8 one tonks, transported to a Malgudi Days timeframe. Beasant would have been like Indira nagar of Banglaore then.
and yes, an audio recording pls? by any chance do any of your contacts have an audio recording of the school events? the school itself? i am sure you would have already tried to get a copy if the school had
this article makes BR like a BND which most of the regulars already feel
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brangan
April 20, 2017
I don’t know about Indira Nagar but I’ve always been puzzled by the reputation Besant Nagar has. It’s a quiet, middle-class locality — except during weekends (with the beach crowd). It’s hardly a Boat Club Road — both in terms of planning and maintenance. Like everywhere else in Madras, there’s potholes and garbage and sidewalk squatters. But somehow there’s this posh reputation to it, and the land prices are unbelievable. I’ve never been able to reconcile the “image” of Besant Nagar with the actuality.
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MANK
April 20, 2017
Tonks, when did you find out the real identity of Brangan ?, was it recently or have you known this since the time you started commenting ?
Kudos to Brangan for letting this post through, Very childish of you Brangan 🙂
“Andha kozhandhaiyae naan thaan sir” moment
yup, absolute filmy moment , befitting a film scholar
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Naveen
April 20, 2017
yaadon ki baarat
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sanjana
April 20, 2017
Frankly speaking, BR must have been a child once upon a time and also went to school. Participated in school activities. You people are behaving as if BR was born as the BR known to us!
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Jyoti S Kumar
April 20, 2017
BR sir, I guess this where the upper middle class and lower middle class distinctions kick in… Besant Nagar is quite upper in the middle class
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Jyoti S Kumar
April 20, 2017
Sanjana: it is like when I tell my little children that even I went to school once upon a time, they are like “what, noooooo!” I guess, BR sir’s clean headed image is so immortalized in our head that it tickles our brain that he was also a small child with a “mop of thick hair”!
Talking of hair, I became a regular reader of BR sir from the time I read his write-up on going bald! 😁
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Rahini David
April 20, 2017
Jyoti S Kumar: Talking of hair, I became a regular reader of BR sir from the time I read his write-up on going bald!
You and BR go a long time back. Not as long as Venki the discoverer/explorer or Tonks the metamorphmagus. But certainly long. You are talking about the Bora Bora article, right?
I sat and laughed at MANK’s first comment even more than ickle BR.
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tonks
April 20, 2017
Honest Raj (formerly ‘V’enkatesh) : Yes, I remember seeing Nirosha when I was in school, but she was in the main school in Mandavalli, and BR has not studied there, only in the Besant Nagar branch.
Naveen : Sorry, no audio/video recording. I possess photos of the Xmas tableaux but none of BR, unfortunately.
Tonks, when did you find out the real identity of Brangan ?, was it recently or have you known this since the time you started commenting?
MANK : I had read him in the Hindu before I knew his identity but his blog and its comment section was discovered by me after I knew his identity.
But why only carols, BR sir?
Jyoti S Kumar : Because our school was Christian.
Music runs in BR’s blood, his grandmother and her sisters were trained in Carnatic music (I’ve heard).
Divya, lakshmi, Madan, Naveen : Thank you! 🙂
Kudos to Brangan for letting this post through
Indeed :). Thank you!
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tonks
April 20, 2017
Not as long as Venki the discoverer/explorer or Tonks the metamorphmagus
Speaking of which, do I now earn the right to displace his title in the blog 😀 ? Time for another name change for Venkatesh? How about ‘formerly BR discoverer’? 🙂
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abishekspeare
April 20, 2017
happy birthday BR!!!!!
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brangan
April 20, 2017
Thank you. And that’s a great nick 🙂
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Rahini David
April 20, 2017
Wow. So we move from BR the chorister to BR the infant. Happy Birthday..
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Rahini David
April 20, 2017
Tonks: You discovered twice over. You multi-faced metamorphmagus. 😛
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Jyoti S Kumar
April 20, 2017
Tonks: 😄 I understood that it was a Christian school, having studied in one also being part of the choir. My question was an extension of your observation that he was not part of the choir, but only part of the Xmas tableau.
Rahini David: I certainly don’t know whether it was that long… Also I am not able to find that article, now. Not sure whether I read in the paper or the blog!
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sravishanker1401gmailcom
April 20, 2017
Tonks : Where the Hell did THAT come from !
Awesome article / recollections and very well written !
Incidentally, I also travelled by school from the Besantnagar bus depot but only a little further i.e upto Mylapore.
BR : Indha visaaranaila pala unmaigal veliyila varudhu 🙂 🙂
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Jyoti S Kumar
April 20, 2017
Rahini David: yes! It is Bora Bora… And this..
I think I realised things were getting out of hand when I found myself breaking an egg on my head – the yolk was the A-bomb that was supposed to annihilate Bora Bora, but all I ended up with was a bad smell and the relief that the Chennai heat hadn’t baked my scalp into an omelette.
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Anu Warrier
April 20, 2017
I began reading this with a sense of déjà vu; it took me a few moments to realise this was our tonks. 🙂 I’d heard this story from her before, and I laughed then, and I laughed as I read through this piece as well.
Take a bow, tonks. Good one!
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Rohit Sathish Nair
April 20, 2017
Happy Birthday Sir!
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Shalini
April 20, 2017
What a charming piece, tonks. The gently observational reminiscences were a delight to read and brought a much-needed smile to the face. BR must treasure you – you can attest to his once glorious tresses. 😀
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Vanya
April 20, 2017
Loved this write-up! Tonks, I don’t know if the opening quote and subject matter synergy was intended, but I was immediately reminded of this episode and scene:
😀
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sanjana
April 20, 2017
Childhood revisited. Happy birthday!
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sum0962
April 20, 2017
Wow now I know that not only the main piece, but also the comments that follow, make an interesting reading experience. Thanks, ppl.
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tonks
April 20, 2017
was not part of the choir, but only part of the Xmas tableau
Aah that, yes. I really have no idea why that was so. To the best of my memory, the regular choir had only girls.
I don’t know if the opening quote and subject matter synergy was intended
At first I thought you meant the subject matter of my piece and was about to say yes, but what a brilliant observation, Vanya. No, the synergy with the subject matter of the episode was totally unintentional and the coincidence is incredible.
sravishanker, Anu, Shalini, Vanya
Kind words. Thank you 🙂
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sravishanker1401gmailcom
April 20, 2017
Many Happy Returns BR !
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Jyoti S Kumar
April 20, 2017
Happy birthday sir!
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Amit Joki
April 21, 2017
So, I and BR have a common thing. I was in the choir too, the only boy in the all-girls choir 🙂 Tonks, I was having an image of you being around 30 years of age, never would I have ever thought you would be a year senior to BR, whoa!
Also, sorry BR. Please accept my very very belated birthday wishes!
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Vighnesh Hampapura
April 21, 2017
This is sooo cockle-warming! 😀
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Kid
April 21, 2017
Tonks: Loved reading this. It’s the sort of piece one would want to take into one’s old age; while reading it one could reflect over all the madeleine-filled ironies of time.
And this needs to be said, a great writer always gets great readers (and commenters).
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rothrocks
April 21, 2017
Belated birthday wishes BR!
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tonks
April 21, 2017
Amit Joki : Ouch! 🙂
Kid : Thank you 🙂 . I’ve marvelled at the quality of writing skills of commenters here too and it’s one of the main reasons I’m drawn to this blog (personal favourites : Kaykay, Anuja, Anu, Vanya).
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sravishanker1401gmailcom
April 21, 2017
Tonks : Thanks for reminding us.
Kay Kay Where the HELL are you !!
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blurb
April 26, 2017
This post is a revelation!! Thank you, tonks!
sravishankar1401gmai Did you go to PS Sr Sec School by any chance? 🙂
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sravishanker1401gmailcom
April 27, 2017
Blurb : Ha Hs ! Not quite but pretty much the same blood.
I went to Vidya Mandir Mylapore i.e for 11th and 12th.
Disclosure : I have lots of friends from P.S Senior
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SharathC
April 27, 2017
My mind voice:
“Joining us in these sessions was a fair, slightly chubby, short, sweet-faced boy”– It has to be BR.
“with a mop of thick, straight hair flopping on to his face, “— meh! its someone else !!
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Rakesh
April 28, 2017
@Sharath: “with a mop of thick, straight hair flopping on to his face, “— meh! its someone else !! –On behalf of the ‘Brotherhood of Bald Men’, do you think we were born bald ?
In the near future , there will be a legislation protecting us from such barbs, and the only way to refer to us would be ‘follicularly challenged’.
We were once young and majestic, with our hair fluttering in the wind, like Simba in his prime.
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Honest Raj (formerly 'V'enkatesh)
April 28, 2017
We were once young and majestic, with our hair fluttering in the wind, like Simba in his prime.
Ha, in fact a Sathyaraj movie has a scene that talks about this ‘Piravi Sottai’ sentiment.
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SharathC
May 3, 2017
@Rakesh: I meant to say that the thought of BR with hair was pretty revolting
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lakshmi
April 21, 2020
Happy Birthday, BR 🙂
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brangan
April 21, 2020
Thank you Lakshmi 🙂
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