Mr. Raghubir Dayal, housemaster of Jodhpur House, had instituted the system of ‘Three Bells’. It was an emergency alarm, for an earthquake or something similar. And when the house bell was rung three times, all of us were required to rush to the garden between the two blocks of Jodhpur House.
I heard the ‘Three Bells’ for the first time in late 1962. The bells rang just before Prep and that evening and Mr. Dayal informed us solemnly that China had attacked India. War preparations followed in the subsequent days, largely consisting of digging trenches and dunking shovelfuls of earth on anyone handy.
The only other time that I remember the ‘Three Bells’ being sounded was early in the autumn term of 1964, after dinner but before ‘lights out’. When we had all collected in the lawns, Mr. Dayal, as solemnly as on the earlier occasion, announced that he was appointing me a house prefect with immediate effect.
After a very brief investiture ceremony, consisting mainly of a firm handshake, Mr. Dayal invited me home for a cup of coffee. He lived on the first floor of the main block of Jodhpur House and it was a rare privilege to be invited, especially because it was after ‘lights out’.
House prefects had a huge responsibility in our school, which was entirely residential. It was the half a dozen prefects per house and a dozen or so school monitors who maintained discipline. They easily ensured that the rebellious exuberance of the three hundred odd students remained within acceptable levels. Their secret mantra was a judicious mix of PD, or punishment drill, and ‘late marks’. If one earned more than three in a week, one was denied the privilege of watching the Saturday movie and had to do yet more PD! Corporeal punishment was almost never meted out by any of the teachers. The rigorous discipline enforced by the prefects and monitors made it quite unnecessary.
“Mighty strange,” I thought, as I tagged along behind my housemaster, “Where is the urgency for my appointment?”
Prefects were never appointed as an emergency measure. As far as I knew, there was no shortage of this commodity. With the thought that now I would be one of the enforcers, I entered Mr. Dayal’s study.
“Wondering why you were made a prefect in such a hurry? Well, it has been decided to appoint you a College Monitor tomorrow; and we can’t appoint someone a monitor when he is not even a house prefect!” said Mr. Dayal.
A College Monitor? I was in C2, or Cambridge Two, for God’s sake! No one, but no one, was appointed a monitor unless he was in C1, the final year in school.
It could have been the prospect of becoming a monitor so unexpectedly. Or maybe it was the coffee. Or maybe it was the thought that my appointment as a prefect was at par with the Chinese invasion! Whatever might have been the reason, I hardly got any sleep that night.
Next morning, immediately after breakfast, I was told by Mr Raghubir Dayal to meet Mr. Gibson, the Principal, in his office before proceeding for Assembly. So off I went to Gibby’s office.
We called him Gibby; but only amongst ourselves. Otherwise it was always ‘Mr. Gibson’. Some of my friends later started referring to him as Jack, but I could never presume such familiarity, not even in absentia.
“When did you join the school, KC?” asked Gibby.
“In 1958, Sir,” said I.
“And how many times have I given you ‘six-of-the-best’?” he asked.
He was referring to the caning which he sometimes doled out to the more unruly boys for serious transgressions. Gibby’s six-of-the-best was the one major exception to the ‘no corporeal punishment’ rule; and dreaded all the more for that reason. Besides the pain, there was the ignominy of having been caned.
“How many times have I been caned, Sir? Not even once!” I declared, rather proudly. And rather foolishly, as it proved.
“Bend over!” ordered Gibby.
Like an obedient robot, I did as he directed. And before I realized what was happening – Swish! Swish! Swish! Three of the best had landed on my posterior. It hurt! By God, it hurt! It hurt a whole lot more because I did not know for what transgression I had been given three of the best on the seat of my pants; or rather half pants.
“What was that for, Sir?” I managed to blurt out, even as I tried to regain my dignity and, ouch, stand up straight.
“Well KC, I am going to appoint you a monitor today. I am sure you must have done many things in all the years since 1958 for which you must have deserved a caning. It is just that you never got caught. And if you have not done anything in the past, I am sure you will in future. You see, I do not like to cane my monitors! Now run along for Assembly.”
I fumed at the injustice of it all. Of course, I had been mischievous! Of course, I had done many things which would have merited a reprimand of the extreme kind! But that was none of Gibby’s business! After all, I had never got caught. That was the very essence of victory!
Justice demands that one be punished for offences that one has committed, been detected to have committed and proved to have committed. That too beyond a shadow of doubt. Presumption of guilt is for kangaroo courts! And punishment in anticipation that a crime will be committed? That seemed patently absurd! I, however, did not see any great benefit in arguing the finer points of law with the Principal and ran along to the Assembly Hall.
In the course of the investiture ceremony at Assembly, Mr. Gibson intoned the usual homilies about honour, loyalty and discharging one’s responsibilities always bearing in mind that example counts more than precept. He then popped the customary question – “Are you, K.C. Verma, willing to be appointed a College Monitor and accept the responsibilities that go with it?”
In a loud and firm voice, I responded, “I will, Sir”; even as I surreptitiously massaged my smarting gluteal muscles. Because of the acute pain, I was certain that I had three very angry black and blue stripes under my shorts.
Time passed, as it so often does. Soon enough, it was nearing the end of term and the memory of the caning had considerably dimmed.
It was on the second of October that my friend Prem and I decided to break bounds to watch a movie in town. We thought no one would miss us because, instead of the usual dinner in the mess, on Gandhi Jayanti the boys cooked and fed all helpers of the school before eating themselves.
I had secreted away some cash, itself a crime in those days, and Prem and I cycled out of the campus to the cinema hall. We purchased tickets for balcony seats and sneaked into the hall only after the lights were dimmed. We were ushered to two vacant seats in the front row and we hugely enjoyed the movie.
But only till the Interval.
When the lights came on in the break, we realized with horror that we were seated right next to Mr. Kaul and Mr. Mathu, both teachers in school. Prem panicked but I stood my ground.
“Let’s brazen it out,” I hissed. We launched into an animated conversation with both teachers about various issues, till it suddenly struck Mr. Kaul that we should not be there in the first place.
“My uncle is visiting Ajmer, Sir,” explained Prem with a very straight face. “He brought us out as a treat, Sir, but his car broke down, Sir, and he has gone to get it fixed, Sir.”
That seemed to satisfy Mr. Kaul and we watched the rest of the movie sitting on the edges of our seats. Prem and I, however, left the cinema hall before the movie ended and cycled furiously back to school. We did not want to be overtaken by Mr. Kaul and Mr. Mathu, without the fictional uncle or his equally fictional car. If either teacher did even a cursory check, our goose would be cooked. We were in possession of cash. We had broken bounds. And we had bunked the sacred observance of Gandhi Jayanti. Triple jeopardy!
Till ‘lights out’ that night, Prem and I remained on tenterhooks, expecting a call at any moment from Mr. Raghubir Dayal. But no summons came from the housemaster. The uncle story had held water!
At Assembly next morning, I stood at the far end of the hall, possibly straighter than usual. I met Gibby’s unwavering gaze from across the hall and stared back in an almost defiant manner. And I said under my breath, “Yes, Gibby, I have lived up to your expectations. I have earned my stripes. We are quits!”
From the other end of the hall, I thought I saw Gibby give an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement. And approval…………