We came to Hyderabad in November 1966 on transfer from Calcutta where I had spent the first ten years of my life. My father’s office was in Abids, literally bang opposite Grammar School, so without any discussion I was admitted into the school in Class 7.

Those were heady days. Cyril Gardener taught us English, Teeyan roamed the grounds with his cane and since my sister was in the girls’ school, I had to go everyday to fetch her from the small gate which you approached from the lane next to John’s Bakery.

As the months rolled across the clock some people spoke to my father and convinced him that the Hyderabad Public School was where I should be and since one of the people on this side of the discussion was Kasu Brahmananda Reddy, the then Chief Minister of Andhra Pradesh, the suggestion was acted upon and I found myself at HPS from the academic year 1967-68, giving me the honour and privilege of being a St.Georgian only for a few months.

But what a few months that was!!!

It was in Class 7, that I made friends who I am still in touch with. They include Sabahat Ali, Ravinder and Gurvinder Singh, Nalin, Russell Johnson and I think also Kerry Edwards.

But the friends made then did not shape my fondness for the school. A lot of other things did.

The first thing that happened to me after I got over the Hindi shock – I had learnt pure Hindi all my life, and Deccani was a bit of a mouthful…the first thing that happened to me was that I discovered I had a problem with my vision. One trip to Dr. Ramchander (my friend Sushil Ramchander’s father) and I was told that I had to wear glasses. I was thrilled. At last I could be like my father, all distinguished and stylish in a pair of glasses.

What I hadn’t bargained for was that there was a whole section of my class waiting for my new ‘Chaar Kandheel’ status. And the moment that happened, they pounced. Along with the ‘Dobbu Seth, Malkapet, Gaadi ka number eighty eight’ chant that was popularly used to irritate plump little children, ‘Chaar Kandheel’ became a cry that resounded in the grounds especially near the drinking water taps which was the scene of countless fights, brawls, tears and what have you. My welcome to the world of the visually impaired is something I’ll never forget.

Then we heard about the Scout’s Jamboree to be held at Kalyani in West Bengal. You had to be a First Class scout to attend, and that was the motivating factor that breezed me through the steps required to wear the right badges. My Fox Sagar camp at Jeedimetla was the first civilian camp I attended and where I learnt basic cooking, the scout walk – 10 paces run, 10 paces walk – and had a ball. A train, a full train was booked for the Bharat Scouts & Guides contingent from AP and we managed to go to Kalyani and even sneaked a couple of trips to Calcutta.

The other place on the school premises that attracted me was the church. It remains a majestic memory.

The regular trips to Taj Mahal Hotel, the regular buying of strange fruits from the school gate and the beginnings of falling in  love with some Georgian girls were other flashback moments I will always cherish.

Thanks to Sabahat whose bus used to pick him up every evening from there, Saremason’s became an adda. Vanguard Apparel’s became my fashion stop. And my first flirtation with chocolates and candies started when I’d use the money given to me to pay for the bus ticket back home would be spent on Parry’s Lacto Bon Bon while I effortlessly walked back.

Cyril Gardener was the first teacher to identify me as someone who was good in English and I guess I owe all my development in  this sphere to that great, avuncular man. Later in life, by marriage, we became related, the Gardeners and the Marurs…and I am fortunate that I still have Terence Gardener Jr. as a dear friend.

So from learning how to knot a tie to learning ‘martial’ arts for self defence, Grammar School has left an indelible impression on my life…on my very soul. God Bless.

Amen!!!