KV Af Stn, Jamnagar
Way back in the early 60s, when it was time for me to toddle on to school, there were only two good options. One was St. Anne's and the other was the Air Force Central School. I was initially sent to St Anne's and later shifted to Central School (later known as Kendriya Vidyalaya) in the Air Force Station. This changed the course of my life for better. It saved me from a parochial upbringing and brought me in contact with a more open, mixed world.
A group of local students took a bus from the town to the gates of the Air Force Station and took a walk into a different world. The school was full of, majorly, children of the defence officers. They came from all parts of India and brought with them a heady potpourri of cultures, languages and ideas. This remains, I think, the most defining feature of Kendriya Vidyalaya schools across the country.
In those days, my school was a single storied stone structure built in a T shape. The leg of the T was the main entrance with the Principal's office, the clerical staff and the staff room. I do remember, that the junior wing was built at that time. This had the classes from Nursery to III and a Stage with the Library behind it, and a cemented area in front of the stage to hold the school assembly in. I can still remember the spanking new feel of the new wing. While this wing was being built, some of the classes were held in huge tents. During recess, we used to climb on to the tents, as if they were mountains to be scaled, sometimes tearing them in the process. The teachers gave speeches in the assembly against using the tents to play in, not that it had an iota of effect on us.
Later on additional wings were built on the edges of the T. The right side had the Chemistry lab and the Bio Lab and some classes, the left had the Craft Lab and the Home Science Lab, with Music rooms and suchlike. The school grounds were roughly evened out, the bushes cut. The school area was demarcated by some wild bushes and trees. There was a weak fencing on one side, about 3 feet high, with rusting barbed wire. It was soon trampled down by eager students, and our school stood unhemmed by walls or gates. The school was surrounded by the residences of the Air Force Staffers.
A few minutes before the school was to start, the students poured in from all sides of the school, some walking leisurely from homes, some from the local bus stand outside the school gates, some popping out of the Army trucks (The Army kids had to share this KV, the Navy kids had one on their own campus). A big sea of humanity in blue and white.
Dumping bags in classes, we would make lines and attend the morning assembly, starting with 'Tamso ma jyotir gamaya' and going on with the prayer 'Daya kar daan vidya ka' and then singing the national anthem 'Jana Gana Mana'. At times we sang our school song 'Bharat ka Swarnim Gaurav'. Apart from the vedic shloka and the generic prayer where we prayed to 'parmatma' and not any specific god, our school was largely secular. Religion was left at home.
That was a wise move. The students came from all corners of India and were a medley of Hindu, Sikh, Muslim and Christian. If we enquired about the religion of a new student, it was more for information than for segregation. The nomadic students of defence forces were more interested in getting the 'stations-visited' background of the new students. I was a town-girl, as was my best friend, Jignasha. We were in the school from begining till the end, but I was a year ahead. We were used to the students leaving to go to some other station, sometimes in the middle of the school session. Likewise, bound by the transfer policies of Central Government, the teachers also kept changing. There were a couple of local teachers who were never transferred. Thus we coursed through school life, a few elements constant, many variable.
The constants gave us security, and the variables added to our life-experiences.
When I was in the lower classes there was an Indo-Pak (1965) war. As Jamnagar was a strategic location, we were in a thick of things. The town faced blackouts and curfews. We papered our windows and closed the doors and ate our dinner in a dim lamplight. No torches or lights to be used at night. The school had emergency drills and we were taught to hide in trenches when the air raid sirens went off. That was huge fun (for us). The school was even closed for a while. When we returned to school, the campus kids bragged about watching aerial dogfights and finding empties of bullets on the school ground. There were stories about spies being caught. It was nothing short of thrilling. In fact, when the war broke out, my brother and cousin were watching the old hollywood flick Hatari. The screening was stopped and patrons were requested to go home.
For our annual day functions and sports day functions, the commanding officer of the station was the default Chief Guest. He usually arrived in defence regalia, his smiling, well groomed wife in tow. He would deliver rousing speeches, hand out the tropies and vanish. For our formal parades we got the Air Force band to provide us the marching tunes, with drums and bagpipes. We even got inoculation and medical checkups at the Air Force medical centres. I have a feeling that these were privileges that we enjoyed, I do not think the station had any obligation to send the band over or see to it that children got a medical check up.
As I grew up, the school just got better. I left Jamnagar for 3 years from 1970 to 73. I returned to my home turf and claimed my old best friend, Jignasha and got back to Class IX. Our lone board exams were in 11th, so it was masti time. We could choose arts or science at will, not based on any interference by school. We had the option of studying in Hindi or English medium. Right from 9th we were left with just 5 subjects with optional subjects like Mathematics, General Science and Sanskrit disposed off in a school test. We had none of the attendent pressures that the kids these days face. A career was still a distant option, to be tackled after college. This was fun time, hanging out with friends, ragging teachers, studying at the last minute. Try as I might, I dont recall any negetive thing from those times. It could be my memories playing tricks, or maybe we really were happy.
I left the school in 1976 and visited once in a while for the next 3 years while I was in college. Later I left Jamnagar for good and hardly ever visited again. This year (2007) nearly 30 years later, I visited the school again.
Why does our school have such a grip on our psyche? Thirty years later, having been through a marriage, a divorce and 2 children, having worked hard at a career, pursured countless interests and friends.. nothing gripped my heart as much as the sight of my school. It was a like my childhood came back to me in a tidal wave, overcame me, and drowned me in emotion. The school now had a proper gate with a boundry wall all around, hedges lining the path. The junior section was in shambles and the chowkidar told me it was shut off and condemned. There was a new building behind the old school. A basketball court had come up and there was a new place for assemblies and stage.
I stood on the tiptoe to take a look at the canteen outside the school where we used to buy snacks, the line of kikar trees under which we ate our lunch. The classroo
m windows had no grill or bar in our times. We used jump out of the windows in a hurry to reach the playground quite routinely. These days the kids cannot do that any more. Students used to come into the school from all sides in our time, as there were no boundry walls or gates, now they have to walk in the gate only. It was so easy to bunk classes in our days. We could sneak out of the school and hide in the houses of some campus friends. Alas ! there is a gate and a chowkidar to prevent that. Playtimes are now restricted. In those days, you could stay over in the playground, missing classes till some alert teacher sent a runner to retrieve the absconding child.However, some things never change. Our school was situated very close to the airstrip. The planes had to fly low over the school while taking off or landing. The noise generated by this was sudden and deafening. We were accustomed to the situation, while new teachers were not. It was nothing but sheer pleasure to see the teacher jump out of his skin when the 'plane flew low. As for us, it was a dare to take the sudden noise without flinching. I was pleased to read on an orkut community of my school that this still happens. Only instead of Gnats, it is the Sukhois now.
It is foolhardy to expect the things to remain the same. Sumaari the school sweeper has passed on. Solanki sir has retired now, and he could not recognise me immediately (I am not longer a fifteen year old girl). Bhatt Sir (he still teaches) couldn't register me at all, and gave me blank looks. I recognised him instantly. He had just joined the teaching force when I was in 10th. I was hardly ever in his class, and he was too chicken to complain. What to do.. his class was right after the lunch period, and Ameeta and I usually dawdled at her home on the campus, and missed it.
My Golden memories.. one may build walls around my old school, put in bars and grills on the window and condemn old buildings, but my memories will stay in mind as they are. Imperishable, Beautiful.
