RIP Mr KM Koshy (KMK)

When we reached Grade 8 at Sainik School Amaravathinagar, we graduated to the senior houses – Chera, Chozha, Pandya and Pallava – named after the historic Thamizh kingdoms.  The House Masters were the iconic figures of the school with Mr MV Somasundaram, the rationalist, at Chera House;  Mr M Selvaraj, the Thamizh Maestro at Chozha House; Mr PT Cherian, the man for all seasons, at Pandya House and Mr KM Koshy, the chemistry specialist, at Pallava House.  All of our classmates for sure will surely cherish what they have leant from these iconic teachers.

I have written about them in my earlier Blog Posts (Please Click on the links):-

Mr MV Somasundaram    https://rejinces.net/2015/12/20/the-atheist/

Mr M Selvaraj   https://rejinces.net/2014/09/16/the-linguists/

Mr PT Cherian   https://rejinces.net/2016/01/12/guru-dakshina/

SRamanujan Skit Gp Photo

Mr KM Koshy headed the Chemistry Department of the School till he emigrated in 1977 while we were in Grade 10.  He was an outstanding Chemistry teacher and he made the most complicated organic chemistry bonds look simple and easy to understand for us. 

He was actively involved with all the extra-curricular activities of the school and was a great actor.  The above image where Mr Koshy is standing in the middle, is of the Play on Ramanujan, directed by MrVekitesha Murthy and staged in 1977 to mark the ninetieth birthday of noted Indian Mathematician Ramanujan.  Mr Koshy essayed the role of Professor Hardy to perfection.  Please Click Here to read more about the play.  

He was passionately devoted to Chemistry and  had a rare talent for conveying his fascination to all of us.  He was a teacher who had a wonderful, compassionate way with us and a rare sense of humour that drew us to him.  He  loved Chemistry, especially Organic Chemistry and he made the subject come alive for all of us.

It is with heavy hearts that we announce the passing of Mr KM Koshy on Monday, 27 February 2017 due to cardiac arrest.  He has gone up to heaven to sit on the right hand side of the Lord, reserved for teachers of eminence .  His son Dr Rajeev Koshy was an year senior to us at School.    

Mr Koshy played a major role in our lives.  He has touched the hearts of a lot us, and the Amaravian Community will never forget him.  Rest In Peace.

Hindi Minimum or Maximum Hindi

Hindi Minimum Test, a test to assess the linguistic ability of cadets, used to be conducted  at the National Defence Academy (NDA) for all cadets in their second semester.  It was a well known fact that for most cadets who graduated from Sainik School Amaravathinagar (Thamizh Nadu) – known as Amaravians, it was a hurdle too high to clear.  So, we all had extra classes on Thursday evenings and all those Hindi Pundits at the Academy tried their level best to make us imbibe the national language.  Thus Thursday evenings became more of a school social at the NDA.  At the Indian Military Academy (IMA) the very same test was called Compulsory Hindi Test.

hindi1

The move by the Congress government at  the Centre in 1965 to impose Hindi on Thamizh population was the root cause of Congress being wiped out of Thamizh Nadu.  Rise of Dravida Munnettra Kazhakam (DMK) was also due to this imposition of Hindi.

Many argue that the agitations against Hindi have had an impact on the Thamizh psyche.  It is often claimed by the political commentators that the people from other Southern States learn Hindi along with their native language, but the Thamizh are fanatical about their language, cultivated by the Dravidian political parties.

It was bit easier for Mallus as the language Malayalam has nearly all the alphabets as the Devanagari script of Hindi Language.  Malayalam language is closer to Thamizh, but has borrowed its vocabulary and grammar from Sanskrit.  For a Thamizhan it is a nightmare to learn Hindi as Thamizh, being the oldest Indian language has limited consonants – only one ‘ka’ (க) in place of ka (क), kha (ख), ga (ग), gha (घ) and similarly for all other sets of consonants.  The Hindi Pundits never understood this very basic issue (and till date they do not seem to understand this fact or try and gloss over this fact) – else they would have to accept that Thamizh is older and more sacred than Sanskrit.  Where would the ‘Indian Nationalists’ hide their faces then?

Hindi propagated in the seventies and eighties by various governmental organisations also had its effect.  Hindi terms coined by them to replace commonly spoken English words were so confusing that even Hindi speaking population of North India would have had a run for their money.  National Television – Doordarshan – and All India Radio spewed out those tough Hindi words with venom.  This resulted in many homes in South India switching off their TV sets at 8:45 PM – on commencement of Hindi national telecast.

In the eighties,  opening up of media space for private players resulted in new channels using a medium – a mix of Hindi and English – which was better understood by everyone.

With globalisation and advancement of IT, the luck Indians rode on, mainly for maintaining English as a national language, was that many found jobs in the world market.  India ended up having a reservoir of English speaking educated mass, which attracted global players to establish business, especially in the IT field.

I do not even remember how I managed to pass the Hindi minimum test.  For using  idioms in sentences for पानी पानी होना I wrote –  जब मैं स्विमिंग पूल में गया, वहां पानी पानी हो गया and for पांचों उंगली घी में होना  I wrote –  जलेबी खाते वक़्त मेरा पांचों उंगली घी में था and the list of bloopers went on.  This was done knowing well that they were howlers, but it resulted in annoying the Pundits who tried their level best to ram Hindi down my throat and I really derived some sadistic pleasures from it.  With vengeance, (more than the keepers of the Thamizh culture, language etc as displayed during the Jallikattu demonstration) I coined new sentences and helped the Hindi Pundits in coining new words to enhance their vocabulary.  I was even successful to a great extend in creating new rules for Hindi grammar -the least it did was to put some doubt in the minds of the Hindi Pundits at  NDA.

Whatever it was, I managed to pass the Hindi Minimum Test in my Fifth Semester.  Some of the Amaravians struggled with it during their entire three year stay at the NDA and did not pass until their Final Sixth Term and special tests were conducted for them.  After three years of NDA and a year of training at the Indian Military Academy (IMA), I was commissioned to 75 Medium Regiment of Artillery.  The Regiment then had three sub-units -Batteries – manned by Jats, South Indians and North Indian Brahmins (Pundits).  For all the ‘fun‘ I had with the Hindi Pundits at the NDA, Gods must have been very unhappy with me or was it that Lieutenant Colonel AN Suryanarayanan, our then Commanding Officer (now a Veteran Brigadier) decided it wisely that I must go to the Brahmin Battery.  I ended up at the right place, I thought.  This resulted in me learning to speak proper Hindi for the first time in my life.  I learned Hindi from our soldiers and many spoke chaste Hindi.

In the Indian Army, the official publications and forms were bilingual – with English and Hindi.  It did not achieve much other than making the publications double their weight and increasing production cost.  I used to advice young officers in the Regiment to read the publication – Glossary of Military Terms –  because of the need to use and understand military terminologies is very important for a young officer, especially during training courses and also during tactical discussions.  This book was bilingual – with Hindi on the left pages and English on the right pages.  I would often suggest to the officers to read the Hindi side when they got bored of reading the English pages as they would find many of them totally out of place and some really humorous.

Nowadays, the Indian Army has done away with the Officer’s Hindi Minimum Examinations – to the delight of all Amaravians joining the NDA.

 

Something Special : The Indian Army Way

A Commercial That Speaks to the Heart

This video is a beautiful tribute to our soldiers – well worth watching, especially on Valentine’s Day. Do not be surprised that it comes from Malabar Gold, a jewellery chain in Kerala. The animation is exceptional, the script apt. It depicts how a senior army officer might counsel a young officer in such a situation. It celebrates the bonding and camaraderie among officers of the Indian Army. In truth, it is a real motivational video.

A Memory from 2002

Watching this television commercial, I was transported back to my Commanding Officer days in 2002. Our Regiment was deployed in the Rajasthan sector for operations since January. After I took over command in June, I noticed that most young officers – especially the newly married ones – had not been home to see their wives. Leave for everyone in the army at that time was severely curtailed, sanctioned only in extreme emergencies.

A Fortuitous Journey

After assuming command, I needed to travel to Devlali, our permanent peacetime location, to complete documentation procedures. Higher headquarters granted me permission to move out of the sector for a week. I seized this opportunity – perhaps wilfully misinterpreting the orders – and took two young Captains with me as my staff officers: the Adjutant and the Quartermaster. Their presence would facilitate the various documentation tasks.

We three booked train tickets from Jodhpur. Captain Subhash was bound for Devlali, where his wife was stationed. Captain Mitra’s destination was Ahmedabad, Gujarat, which fell en route; his wife was living with her parents there. I was headed for Devlali, as Marina had by then migrated to Canada.

The Plan Unfolds

Our train was scheduled to stop at Ahmedabad at daybreak. Subhash called Mrs Mitra with careful instructions: prepare breakfast for the Commanding Officer and himself, and bring it along. He added an advisory note – the Commanding Officer was a connoisseur of good food, so it got to be good.

Half an hour before the train was to pull into Ahmedabad station, Mitra woke us with a cup of hot tea and the brightest smile he could muster. That was when the devil in me began working overtime.

I instructed Mitra to step off the train – not onto the platform side, but the opposite. Subhash was to meet Mrs Mitra on the platform and break the sad news: her husband’s leave had been cancelled by the Commanding Officer at the eleventh hour due to unforeseen operational requirements. I would then walk in to meet Mrs Mitra for the first time.

The Moment of Truth

The train came to a halt. Everything proceeded as planned. Mrs Mitra waited on the platform next to our coach with her father, both smiling, eager to meet her husband who had been away for six months.

The moment Subhash broke the sad news, I walked in. I watched as dark clouds of sadness layered over her smiling face. Her expression shifted from radiant to dull, as if an arc light had suddenly fused. Her father comforted her with gentle reasoning: her husband was on important national duty and would be with her shortly.

I apologised sincerely for cancelling Mitra’s leave and assured her he would be sent home in two months. Mrs Mitra barely heard me. She stared with a dazed, blank expression.

Subhash reached for the breakfast hamper. “He hasn’t come, but we can have the breakfast. Haven’t you brought it for us?

The train whistle blew. We thanked them, climbed aboard, and stood in the doorway, waving goodbye.

Epilogue

Wishing all couples a Happy Valentine’s Day.

Falling in love is like looking at the stars. If you pick one among the billions and stare at it long enough, all the others will melt away.

For the soldier, love is measured in stolen moments, postponed reunions, and the quiet understanding that duty and devotion are not opposites – they are two sides of the same coin.