Diwali, Celebration Underpants and Incorrect Mathematics

Diwali, the Festival of Lights, is an important time both in the Hindu Calendar and for those bidding to make Pyrotechnics an Olympic sport.  It celebrates the return from exile in the jungle of Lord Rana (goodie) and the killing of various baddies.

Lighting of all manner springs up everywhere. From simple candles adorning rangolis ( designs made from sand, see right) to sprawling electrical extravaganzas.

It is also supposed to acknowledge the existence of an 'inner' light. I was imagining that this might be a time of quiet reflection.

The 'light' theme however has expanded in the direction of fireworks. Alas fireworks are expensive so Bangers and Explosives are the order of the day. It is compulsory for any self-respecting under 19 year old to commit al least 3 days to the art of detonation and missile propulsion. As the days wore on I underwent a rather Victor Meldrewlike transformation and from there simple pursed-lipped grumpiness deteriorated into fever and splitting headaches. At BCS tradition dictates that a 'war' takes place between seniors and juniors on the 2 games pitches. My bedroom/sickroom was perfectly located between the two. I realised then how hopeless I would be in a real war zone. 

 

Anxious to enter into the spirit of the decorative side of Diwali I adorned the threshold of my room with the spingly-spangles above. Indian shops however, despite being diminutive in size, are far from one-trick ponies and to my delight I found that the spangle shop also had an excellent selection of undergarments. As is quite clear from the photo both branding and style were from the very top drawer. Size however was confusing. The shop keeper insisting that I needed a 95cm pair while I contested  that 90cm would be ample. Lengthy discussions took places with the cheery purveyor prevailing. My new 'MACHO's did prove a good fit but according to the numbers suggest that my Indian diet has added 4 inches to my waistline. 

Moustache Motivation

In Britain, if memory serves me correctly, tomorrow heralds the beginning of a sprouting month - Movember, when hitherto closely-cropped top lips burst into a riot of hair in aid of cancer awareness.

In this land of India I cannot walk 3 paces without coming across an excellently manicured 'tache. Quite by chance I found Mr Rohit Vyas (Geography and Chemistry) and Mr Dogra Viresh Kumar (Mountaineer and special driver for the Headmaster) taking a quiet moment in the Gymnasium to ensure that no hair was out of place...

Please continue...

Now while Dogra claims that he is the source of inspiration behind the moustache of Mr Dinesh Kumar (below), DK himself was puzzled when I presented him with this boast. DK referred to his days in the army as the true source. DK was also a national boxer in his day so Dogra better be careful. The real question however is whether DK dies his hair black or his moustache white.

Meanwhile it's a brave member of staff who takes the Headmaster on in a field where he clearly has exceptional form. His photo on the school website (bishop cotton school, shimla) I think shows a moustache that is actually wider than the face. This begs the question : when does a moustache become a  full set of whiskers. Headmaster has also been a national boxer, so I must also be careful.

Dinesh Thakur is a Geography teacher. He is not a boxer which allowed me to get this incredibly rare close up.

How ridiculous to be grinning like a buffoon when my moustache has clearly just fallen off...

Ah, here it is again...

Bishop Cotton School

Welcome to Bishop Cotton School, Shimla formed in 1859 by... Bishop Cotton ! 

Here he is in all his splendour in the main square of the school. He's accompanied by a myriad of pot plants and of course a fighter plane active in the 1971 Indo-Pakistanti War (conflict over disputed territory in the Indian province of Kashmir, about 250 miles from Shimla).

BCS is my work, rest and play from Mid-Sept to December 2011 as I am staying on the campus in lodgings under the music hall...but more of that later. For now it's time to concentrate on the school motto...

Now some have already noticed this motto and expressed a certain degree of mirth. I  however, would prefer to tackle the wily barbs of Satan with 'good' rather than a) vim b) anti-biotics or c) bad jokes. Bad jokes aside, India is a very religious country and BCS is a school built on Christian values. Boys have to attend chapel every morning except Sunday.

Many who leave these doors go on to become successful and famous. Not always for the best reasons. Reginald Dyer was a head of house at BCS. He became General Dyer of the British Army who oversaw the Amritsar Massacre of Sikhs in 1919, an incident in which he ordered British troops to open fire on a crowd of unarmed protestors. Almost 400 were killed.


Boys have their own desks in their own classrooms. These 14 year olds currently sporting tweed 'winter kit' - compulsory school uniform which is supposed to include a carefully folded display handkerchief poking out of breast pocket. I take great pleasure in quizzing any rascal who has omitted to display his handkerchief adequately. (Functional handerkerchief to be kept in trouser pocket.)

Key facts about BCS : all boys, all boarding, saturday lessons, ranked 3rd best boarding school in all India, high % of boys from the Punjab (Sikh country an one of the richest states in India). Around 450 boys in upper school (age 12-18), 150 in lower school (age 7-11). Virtually all boys will go on to University or the Army.

Hockey on the 2nd 'Flat' looking up at the main school on the 1st 'Flat'.

BCS is in the city of Shimla,  a well known 'Hill Station' which became the summer capital of the British administration during the rule of the British Empire (an effective escape from the 'infernal heat of the plains'). The Shimla hills are foothills of the Himalayas. As such though everything is steep and things tend to go up and down rather than left and right! These flat playing fields are extremely rare exceptions.

Differently Abled - Sports Day

In a year when organisers are aiming to make the Paralympics the first ever sell-out, it was
fascinating to attend the sports day of the Festival of the Differently Abled at Bishop Cotton School.

This gang is from Bishop Cotton School Activity Centre which only operates in the Junior School so ages range from 5 to 11.

Clearly guest of honour, I got quite a taste for dishing out medals!

My favourite event was a very extensive and grand musical chairs competition...

When video footage decides to play ball I will pass that ball onto you....

Festival of the Differently Abled

"The need today is to create platforms where the specially abled can come forward and show what they are capable of, recognizing the inherent need of each child for competition, applause, acknowledgement and in celebration of the spirit which overcomes the constraints of affliction in its attempts to soar and reach new heights..." 

And so Bishop Cotton School hosted its 12th two day 'Festival of the Differently Abled'. Hundreds of children came from schools and institutions across the State of Himachal Pradesh to take part. Day 1 revolved around a vibrant program of singing and dancing.

This was not only wonderfully performed and very varied entertainment but a real celebration of the potential in all of us.

Deaf dancers for example have to combine accurate counting skills, feeling sound vibrations, and checking for off-stage hand signals at the same time as actually dancing.

There was a great sense of enjoyment on and off stage and at times it was deeply moving.





These boys attend a deaf school...

Students from the National Association for the Blind, Kullu...

The event took place in the School's Irvine Hall. The audience appreciates under the watchful eyes of previous headmasters from 1859 onwards. What would they have made of FODA ?

Snacks on the Tracks

I took the train north from Delhi to Shimla ( the summer capital of the British Raj ). The latter section involved a 'toy' train which rises up 1000m (as it approaches the Himalayas) and enters 100 tunnels. Without fail, every tunnel was greeted by feverish whoops of joy from all under the age of 40. Names of pre-booked seats are on a list pinned to the outside of the carriage..



My bag was too big for the luggage rack and virtually for the carriage which meant it almost ended up in the loo. The convenciences as you can see are more honest than those of First Great Western but same rules apply when in-station.

Each time the train stops, a man or boy jumps into your carriage crying ''Chai, Chai, Chai!" (sweet milky tea,tea.tea) or "Paratha, paratha, paratha!" (flatbread filled with potato). Enthusiasm can often be followed by frustration and disappointment...

A dash Of Delhi

Having missed my first flight (non-refundable - ouch) due to a phenomenal bureaucratic kerfuffle over my visa, I arrived a week late in Delhi. Anxious to crack on with teaching at Bishop Cotton School, Shimla, I only had time for a lightning strike into the Heart of Delhi. You will notice from the photos the sheer speed of things. You will also notice superb rickshaws (three-wheelers often motorised but here pedal-powered). The movement of traffic in India has been likened to the way shoals of fish move. To the unaccustomed eye an accident is waiting to happen. However sound is as important as sight and the obligatory continual use of the horn, while irritating, is essential for self-preservation (wing-mirrors are frowned upon). 

Testing...Testing

Testing, testing times as I enter the Blogosphere just a fortnight after I arrived in India. A special photo which took an hour to upload I have deleted in a nano-second and this opening blog is therefore a 'baldie' shorn of the visual back-up deemed essential in this age of lap-warming laptops and multimicrovable mobiles. Here I sit in the apple orchard of my guesthouse in Manali, in the mountains of Himachal Pradesh, Northern India but my battery like a full bladder can wait no longer. so for now, so long...











I'm back with a photo of my himalayan guesthouse and orchard after all..