Remembering College Days as it Celebrates 133 Years

My village friend sent me a clipping that Government Victoria College in Palakkad where I studied is now133 years old.  Long live the college with its vast expanse, scenic surroundings, let alone my youthful student days and memories that I cherish. 

The College could legitimately boast of being a springboard for many who made it big in life - V R Krishna Iyer (Chief Justice of India), EMR Namboodiripad (Chief Minister of Kerala), E. Sreedharan (the Metro Man of India), T.N. Seshan (Chief Election Commissioner), to name a few. Simultaneously, the college also admitted lesser mortals like me.

The faculty was a mixture of good, bad and indifferent individuals. The English professor was jovial and enlivened the class. The Sanskrit lecturer, with his namam on forehead always staying in an upright position. Students listened to him with rapt attention while he taught Shankuntalam and other lessons. With starched kurta and panchagacham he was so immaculate that one wondered if ever Modi-ji visited the campus incognito and took cues to imitate him later in life.

The Physics professor was handsome, and he was conscious of it too. He was also in-charge of NCC.  So, often he would take class in NCC uniform. 

The Biology professor believed in talking to himself rather than to the class. Despite stretching one’s ears to listen to him one keeps guessing the last three words in every sentence. In sharp contrast, the History professor could be heard in the seventeenth row although the class had only seven rows. If only students in the adjoining class, divided by wall, were a little attentive, they could take notes word for word.

In sports, the college fared better in football. In the inter-college tournaments, roughly it won 6 out of 10 matches. Ali was the full back. He seldom allowed the ball from the opponent get past him to the goalkeeper. His only snag was his return hits of the ball more often went skywards rather than towards the opponent’s goal post. 

Cricket team mostly consisted of boys from Vadakkanthara, Kalpathy and Nurani villages. Each one was given a nickname - Vijay Hazare, Vinoo Mankad, Nandu Phadkar, or Poly Umrigar - based on one’s skills. 

It is now over six decades since I moved out of Palakkad. But each time I went there, I would pass through College Road and ask the driver to slow down so that I could see my school and college on each side and explain the surroundings to my sons and wife: ‘See that tree, it is under that the ice-vendor used to sell crushed ice with syrup. And over there, Nataraj Café, used to be the rendezvous for college boys and girls for coffee and tea. 

One such visit was specifically for a darshan of village and family deities before my elder son took off to USA for higher studies. As we passed by College Road, I pointed my finger and said: “That is Syed Mohammad’s stationery shop. He did brisk business.”  Just then I heard a feeble voice, “Samikutty’s son?”. I looked here and there and saw a frail hand jetting out, trying to wave at me from the shop. Yes, it was Syed Mohammad, at a ripe age. He and my father often greeted each other at Fort Maidan in the evenings during their respective weight-reduction walks. He ordered for us ‘Crush’, the local soft drink. We had a chat. As we were about to leave, he whispered into his assistant’s ears, and he suddenly disappeared into the deep store only to return with a high-end pen-set. Syed gave it to my elder son wishing him all the best in his higher studies. Seeing the younger one a little disappointed, Syed picked a ball-pen that was handy and said, “and this one is for you, my boy.” The younger too was overjoyed.

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