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Showing posts from September, 2009

The Years They Will Remember

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Akhil and Sahana with thatha. Akhil is in sixth grade. Sahana is in fourth grade. My own fourth grade feels like a blur, but I remember sixth grade quite well. Mrs. Vijayalakshmi was our class teacher. She was outstanding at teaching English. At BP Indian, grammar, punctuation, and the structure of a composition mattered. Some of my classmates had a natural flair for writing, and I loved reading how they put their thoughts on paper. I came third in class that year and received a merit prize. I still remember the books: Five Have a Wonderful Time by Enid Blyton and Grandmother’s Tale by R. K. Narayan. I still have my copy of Grandmother’s Tale . Inside is the school’s prize label: third rank, Class VI D, 1992–93, awarded to Subbarathinam—the name I went by then. My sixth-grade merit prize. I still have the book. ...

Rounding off in style

My school days were fraught with difficulties when it came to Maths. I could never understand why 2+2 had to be 4 or why 1+2 had to be 3. It was like Swami (from RKN) learning to solve Math problems in front of his father. Addition and subtraction itself were leaning toward astronomical proportions of difficulty, so there was no way anybody could question my abilities when it came to the mammoth multiplication and division problems. It was at an abysmal dismal level. It took me days, rather years to figure out that multiplication and addition were related by an intricate complexity. 2x3 is nothing but 2+2+2 was a startling revelation learned over the ages, after several years of mutual painstaking experience; mutual because my teacher and my mother used to wield the stick and I used the bear the pain. I had a grudging resolve never to play with numbers because they played around me in weird ways. Division was an altogether different experience. The strict voice still echoes in ...