This time of the year brings back memories of Christmas at The Home School.
Come December and a happy buzz used to pervade THS. After all, it was the only occasion that was celebrated by the school. True, the school promptly 'declared a holiday' to mark almost every special day of the Hindu or Muslim calendar. The blackboard on the gate used to say things like: 'Tomorrow the school will be closed for Varamahalakshmi Vratam' and so on. But Christmas was different.
For one, there was Santa. Every year he was there, a tall, imposing jolly fellow in his trademark red and white outfit. Not very plump though. He used to give us all presents after we sang carols. I don't think we believed that he came from the North Pole or wherever else, but we weren't quite sure of his port of origin.
As it turned out, he came from the PT room just around the corner from the Assembly Hall where we waited for him every year. An enterprising classmate came upon our dear PT Master, Mr. Sims (I hope this is how he spelled his name), trying on a cotton beard a few days before the big day. Christmas was never the same again.
Come to think of it, Santa never said a word during all those years. Just mumbled something into his cotton beard. No wonder.
I said Santa gave us presents. The presents have a history of their own. In the beginning, the school collected what was a big amount in the early 1980s (maybe Rs.125?), added some of its own money and bought some exciting stuff. My favourite was the Noddy book and a rocket-shaped pencil box with a bullet-shaped nozzle. You could take out the pencils and other contents, blow into the plastic and close the cap tight. And then you chose your enemy carefully and pressed the tube. The nozzle would pop and fly out quite fast and strike your target, or at least someone else.
A few years later, somebody decided that the best way to make sure all the children used the right shoe polish was to give shoe polish kits as Christmas gifts. I don't remember whether this brilliant idea occurred at the same time that we discovered Santa lived in Basavanagudi, but anyway it took the sheen off Christmas. No Noddy, no missile pencil box; only a shoe polish dabba and a brush! Wow!
Carol singing was a big thing. Sometime in the beginning of December, Mrs. Marker (for the longest time I thought her name was Miss Marca) called each of us to her piano and made us sing some notes. She then decided what part we would play in the group. It wasn't a trained choir or anything like that. But she played the piano well and sang well; we were willing learners.
Mrs. Marker migrated to Australia sometime after I left THS in 1986. For a very long time, to me Australia meant kangaroos and Miss Marca.
