Mangaluru bun and melting fear

I went to primary and middle schools between 1948 and 1956, during the heady days of nation-building. I vividly remember my teachers—some gentle, others tough.

Muddiah sir was my first standard teacher at Government Primary School in Ponnampet, Kodagu. A stoutly built figure with a coat worn loosely, a black round fur cap, and a round reading glass gave him a fierce look. But he had a soft, friendly voice and was liked by all. He held competitions in number work and tables. The winner got a piece of chalk as a prize and was allowed to correct others' work. It was a great privilege, and we could keep the chalk pieces. A few of us had collected a pocketful of them! There were no note books or pencils, but only slates and shale sticks.

My teacher in second grade, Subbamaiah sir, was strict, and I was terrified of him. He expected perfection in both our appearance and academic work. Any slip-up invited harsh punishments like thrashings or standing on the bench. It was the norm back then, and nobody complained. Having experienced his wrath several times, I feared him. Once, my father and I met him at the market. While the adults exchanged niceties and conversed cordially and jovially, I was too scared to even look at him. But it gave me hope that he would be kinder to me and promote me to the next class!

In June 1950, my father's job took us to Madikeri, and we siblings were admitted to St Michael's School (SMS), with a landmark cathedral near the toll gate (now General Thimmiah Circle). During the next six years up to 3rd Form, the current eighth standard, I was fortunate to have excellent teachers—Christiane, Lalitha, Mary, Pinto, Narashimha Bhat, Madhava Bhat, Molly Correa, Krishnaswamy, and the Head Sister D. Sister D, who was very strict, was a Wren & Martin Grammar Book on the move. Krishnaswamy sir, our math teacher, was synonymous with SMS. Academic performance and discipline were the hallmarks of SMS, and punishments were the order of the day!

On a rainy day in 1953, my sister and I were on errands to Chowki, the town centre. It was pouring, and we were sharing an umbrella. I heard my name and turned back to look. To my shock, it was Subbamaiah sir, my second-grade teacher, who I was terrified of. I was shaken! Before we could greet him, he smiled a big, fatherly smile. After kindly asking about our well-being, he took us to a cafe nearby. That was our very first visit to a hotel! The taste of the Mangaluru bun and the Coorg coffee that he bought us still lingers. We were touched by his kindness. A terror of a teacher could also be kind-hearted, compassionate, and a great human being!