CHAPTER 5 Conquer new Frontiers - A Story of Faith and Miracles

CHAPTER 5 Conquer new Frontiers I had to seize fresh avenues as I entered class 11, with opportunity and hope and the unflinching faith of my parents and a burning desire to fulfil my passions – watch plenty of theatre, write plays, act, and direct dramas, learn music, participate in public speaking and watching avant garde movies. Strangely I was a very shy person, perhaps with more qualities of being an ambivert and was never an extrovert. And as I read Mahatma’s autobiography, I discovered he too was a very diffident individual yet he pioneered India’s freedom struggle through the strategies of non-violence and civil disobedience. Thus, I was inspired by the autobiography in search of my solutions to fight the warring demons and tormentors in my mind. Showtime at Purana Quila Girish Karnad was all of 26 when he wrote Tughlaq. As novelist late U.R. Ananthamurthy wrote in the preface to the OUP publication of the play, perhaps no other play reflects, the political mood of disillusionment which followed the Nehru era of idealism” in India in the 1960s. The Pathaks, their nephew Panduranga Hegde (recently arrived from Dharwad to pursue Masters in Social Work from Delhi University) and our family were stunned to the core at the majestic ramparts of Purana Quila once the curtains were drawn on Girish Karnad’s script, directed by the noted director, Ibrahim Alkazi and performed by National School of Drama Repertory Company. Our families were soaking-in the imaginative performance long after it was over and we were relishing a meal at the acclaimed Kwality restaurant in Connaught Circus. The play fired my imagination and I was keen to dabble in amateur theatre. Over the last couple of years, I did begin to produce plays at our doctor’s quarters complex along with other youngsters much to the chagrin and consternation of Bumboo and some others. Class 11 was a different ball game. But unexpectedly I was performing reasonably well in the Commerce stream, though mathematics and accounts were still bothersome. Like several others, I secretly admired figures but once again like most of them was horrified by numbers. Two sections E and D separated me and Bumboo in Class 11. I was in section E, while he was in section D. Bumboo could not follow the footsteps of his father and older sister to pursue sciences and emerge as a doctor. Securing mere 62% in the board examinations in class 10 examination did not fetch him a seat in the Science stream. He thus had to settle with the lesser mortals and the hoi polloi like us to be in the Commerce stream. While this did not mean a thing to the rest of us, the Chandana’s felt it was quite a climbdown for them. A petite English teacher was to become a new entrant to the faculty. Apparently, she had relocated from the USA where she had been teaching. This teacher instantly became the heartthrob of most of us and the more vocal among us unabashedly declared our affection and love for her. But things came crashing and we were all put to shame when we were confronted by a strapping youngster who confronted us stating that the woman in question was his mother. Hopes of students crashed, not quite a Summer of ‘42 rather a harsh summer of ‘78. Finally, my mother’s faith seemed to bear fruit with my performance in Class 10 and the midterm performance of Class 11, so much so I topped the class despite a not too brilliant performance in mathematics and accountancy. My father, seeing my performance gathered enough pluck to attend parent-teacher meetings with my improved academic performance. All these years it was my mother who with her faith in the divine had faced the brunt. The English teacher found reasonable spark in my performance and advised my father that I ought to read plays, biographies and autobiographies to improve my vocabulary. I had already read Mahatma Gandhi’s autobiography and she was suitably impressed and asked me to reread it apart from others. My father pulled out books like Discovery of India by Jawahar Lal Nehru, Is Paris Burning, books by Somerset Maugham and my mother was to give me a copy of the Autobiography of a Yogi by Parahamsa Yogananda, apart from Ramayana and Mahabharata by C. Rajagoplachari. The choice of books said it all where the heart lay and what was the deeper meaning of faith, miracles, and logic. Another sagacious advice the English teacher gave was to learn new English words and quotations of eminent people. This gladdened my father’s heart. And so, I began this practice. Very soon I was performing on stage and surprised my classmates and several in school to win the best new face award for my performance in a Hindi play. I was able to overcome stage fright and grab the opportunities which came my way. The biggest break for me materialized when I successfully qualified after an audition for the music-theatre workshop to be conducted by Barry John and Param Vir. Kidstuf, the magnum opus of the school was also co-produced by Max Mueller Bhavan. I was to take part in this production, a matter which confounded Bumboo and other detractors no end. Politics and spirituality are two subjects which have always fascinated my mind. And I always had my tryst with spirituality and politics at a tender age. Machiavelli the author of Prince proposed that immoral behaviour, such as the use of deceit and the murder of innocents, was normal and effective in politics. While spirituality involves the recognition of a feeling or sense or belief that there is something greater than myself, something more to being human than sensory experience, and that the greater whole of which we are part is cosmic or divine in nature. I was indeed surprised and my parents were delighted that their son was first made the class monitor by the affable Economics teacher Father Padyatti and soon elevated as school prefect. This was one step shy of being the Vice-President or President of the school. I was seizing all opportunities that came my way. The biggest of them of all was to top the commerce section. And my mother’s immense faith in the divine which guides our lives was buttressed further. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Inexplicable During all this, there were two inexplicable events which astonished me no end and the faith of my mother in the almighty increased manifold. Upon completion of rehearsals of Kidstuf, I had a rather strange feeling on the bus I was travelling by. Upon reaching our home, I was with my mother and sister and told them that something extraordinary or unexpected was about to occur. I kept repeating this to them and while they looked askance. It was sometime in the evening and we were standing in the balcony of our house. Quite unexpectedly the weather changed, the elements danced like never before, the weather was tempestuous which was followed by a massive dust storm, accompanied by blinding lightning and then a heavy downpour. My mother acknowledged my clairvoyance and brushed my hair. My inner voice had triggered the thought process I was to think to myself. There was a funnel of wind which moved at a frenetic and ferocious pace like a sizzling python from a spot in Roop Nagar (in West Delhi), crossing Delhi University causing massive wreckage enroute, demolishing trees, property, affecting the travelling public. Several theories were floated to explain the phenomenon which ranged from the arrival of a UFO, a Chinese satellite, atmospheric changes to the wrath of the Gods. Nevertheless, this brief spell of stormy weather left a trail of destruction about which I had had a semblance of clue through the inner voice. The next day we were a witness to the debris. And the testimony was a smashed autorickshaw perched on the terrace of Khalsa College in Delhi University. People narrated strange stories as to how they were lifted by the velocity of the winds, all of which added spice to the drama of the previous evening. The event, which was accompanied by a trail of havoc and most importantly that I could predict that something extraordinary was to happen registered on my mother. She could feel that with all the spiritual encounters and her intense faith in the divine, I had developed a strong sense, – a sixth sense. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The jaws of teachers and students alike dropped in disbelief and astonishment as the Principal, Father Kunnankal announced, “Ravi Valluri and Puneet Seth will not appear for the 11th standard final examination as they are performing in Kidstuf, our showcase project.” Both Puneet and I had been desperate to participate in the musical but wondered with the impending 11th standard examination, how we would be able to. “This is again providential, a clear indication of divine intervention and deep faith. I would call it a miracle,” my mother remarked. “An average of their academic performance of the entire year would be taken to determine the marks they secure for the final examination,” added our principal before he turned around and left the room. Incidentally I topped the class with distinction and a proud mother was present at the function in school clutching on to the rosary she always kept and uttered a silent prayer. Without doubt by the grace and blessings of Masters, my ancestors, my parents and Swamiji, I could seize opportunities even when the chips were down. CHAPTER 6 Upending the Pyramid Having been exempted from the final examination, Puneet and I jumped headlong into the rehearsals and performances at Delhi, Bombay, and Shimla. Well, I found all the Keralite priests and our teachers like Fr Puthumana, Fr Padyati and Fr Kunnankal who were the think tank at St Xavier’s School to be extremely considerate and thought out-of-the box. They consented to the unconventional decision of permitting two students from not appearing for class 11th examination but participate in a musical play. But can we imagine schools in this day which have classes 1 to 12, with sections A to Z, ever consider to take such an audacious step? The system of rote which has evolved over the years places premium on marks, numbers, and acquisition of information over knowledge, can seldom think radically. For me Wisdom= Information + Knowledge and only in such a situation can a tutee genuinely appreciate the vast repository of consciousness and academics. My mother though not privy to this atypical decision and silently prayed so that I did not miss out on the wonderful opportunity; the exposure of performing in a musical as grand as this one. St Xavier’s School had carved a niche for itself and became the lodestar of the educational system while her son was shining in both academics and extracurricular activities. Those were heady times for the family. A few months prior to the tasting the heady success of winning best new face award in Class 11th and preparing for Kidstuf, there were other exciting developments taking place. Along with a motely crowd of youngsters who despite possessing dramatic talent could not quite jostle space with those proficient in English language at St Xavier’s School, we managed to adapt a musical into Hindi - Bharatendu Harischandra’s seminal play Andher Nagri Chaupat Raja which was a surprise package and took St Xavier’s, the premier English public school by storm and was also selected for the All Delhi Schools Play competition and went on to win critical acclaim. Alas we narrowly missed the coveted trophy. My life was sandwiched between two musicals. While Kidstuf was a magnum opus production, Andher Nagri, Chaupat Raja was spartan but equally effective and telling. My co-actors of Kidstuf fretted in disgust as we staged the play and won the 1st prize in school but stood 2nd in the interschool competition the Delhi. It could have been a first prize but we were a trifle overconfident. Their angst was how could an English-speaking actor perform in a Hindi play? But my mother had instilled confidence in me and asked me to blank out all criticism from my mind and focus merely on studies and continue acting in theatre. As a medical social worker, she realised that participation in such activities released positive endorphins in the mind to transfigure our lives and become agents of change in the society. Class 12 was the next summit to be scaled. It was no surprise to my mother that I topped the 11th standard examination, though my father was apprehensive about me acting in the musical. The bugbear of numbers continued to haunt me and chase me. In order to prevent a repeat of class 8, my parents judiciously engaged a tutor, Shri Narendra Dev to teach me mathematics. And soon I could solve all questions ranging from algebra to probability. Very soon mathematics did not appear toxic. My friend Khokhan (a moniker for Udayan or rising sun, a student of Rosary School) and I practised mathematics every night after dinner, from nine to eleven. Zero Coefficient of Correlation The coefficient of correlation is always ranges between -1 to +1. This I learnt under the tutelage of my maths tutor. Thanks to him I also learnt the implications of this statement. Reading autobiographies and biographies and in particular Mahatma Gandhi’s autobiography gave me a remarkable insight into the minds of leading personalities and inspiring figures. These books provided several answers to the probing mind of a strapping youngster in me and honed my faith in myself. Before we realised months had flown by and it was time for my mathematics board exam. Several students appearing for this examination floundered while attempting the question related to co-efficient of co-relation. As I attempted the question, I calculated the answer to be zero. Thanks to my maths tutor I knew this was a possible correct answer, unlike my friend Khokhan, who worked out the problem correctly but scratched out everything thinking that zero could not possibly be the answer. In the bargain he lost twenty marks. Khokhan was devastated. Till date, I can empathise with him as he threw the gauntlet after that. The other Bengali, the sharp-witted Satra too had been flummoxed by the mathematics paper but she rallied round in other papers of sciences. So, among the quartet which included Bumboo of Doctor’s Quarters, I had fared amazingly well in the maths examination by scoring 97/100. My mother heaved a sigh of relief and silently thanked all the spiritual Masters we had encountered and whose blessings we had received as certainly this was a unique story of faith and miracles. Coup De Grace Amitabh Bachchan earns one crore per day, said the cover page of India Today. I was engrossed in the magazine, reading the about the meteoric rise of the superstar while travelling from New Delhi to Madras by Tamil Nadu Express in AC Chair Car. This was my first journey travelling alone and unchaperoned. Yes, my guardian angels were there to protect me. I was also thinking about Satra and admiring smart young girls who were travelling by the train. I reckon it was too early for testosterone to ignite but slowly we all were aware of our sexual drives and masculinity. While indulging in these thoughts electric currents passed through minds and bodies. Though later a feeling of remorse would grip the mind. However, this was an integral part of growing up. After spending a month in Madras, I returned to base camp Delhi. The all-important class 12 results were to be declared. Bumboo had not changed but was chastened and did not indulge in his repeated criticism and constant ranting about me. The month was June, and the year 1980. Mrs Indira Gandhi was firmly ensconced as the new Prime Minister of India after defeating the motley Janata Party and its offshoots at the hustings. Sometime during that month our 12th standard results were declared. I had topped the Commerce section! Perhaps I could have scored a century in maths with a little more alacrity. Nevertheless, it was a chutzpah moment for my parents, my sister and me. After my schooling, I joined Hindu College, Delhi University. My passion for writing and acting in plays continued and I also forayed into Hindustani classical music. I participated in several music and theatre workshops organised by noted artistes. National School of Drama and other theatre centres at Mandi House, New Delhi were almost my second home much to the consternation of my father who opined that I was going astray. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The School for Wives, is a comedy in five acts by Molière and was first performed in 1662 and later published in 1663 as L’École des femmes. This play was adapted in Hindi by the noted writer and director Balraj Pandit and we participated in the play under the inscrutable Pankaj Kapur. This was a defining moment for me. It was mesmerising to see him enact scenes in a facile manner. It was a daunting audition conducted by Pankaj Kapur a demanding and exacting theatre personality, but I was among the six participants who was selected to perform in the play Panchva Savar, the Hindi adaptation of Moliere’s play. Little did we realise Anu Agarwal who was one of our co-stars who attained the status of a celebrity thanks to the movie Ashiqui. The year was 1982 and we were in mid-October. Normally, Delhi is affected by an atmospheric phenomenon called October heat, but the weather was pleasant. Hindu College Theatre repertory company received a standing ovation by an enthusiastic crowd at Sri Ram Centre (a dream to perform by aspiring artistes) for staging Panchva Savar. I was on cloud nine and smoking a cigarette. I was in a tearing hurry to return home. Waiting at Mandi House bus stop, suddenly I felt someone tap my shoulder. Upon turning around, I was to face my father and the cigarette fell from my hands and I was feeling absolutely numbed. The journey on the chartered bus from Mandi House to Kingsway Camp was a treacherous and long one, as I was attempting to dodge a barrage of questions. My mother was aware that I was participating in the play, but not my father who was at his wits end with my first-year performance in B.Com.(Hons) where had I secured a paltry 50%. He was keen that I worked hard to ensure a better score in the following year. There was a big showdown between my parents and there were no winners. It was a combat between logic and faith. “Did he not top 11th and 12th standard examinations? Did he not participate in Kidstuf and other plays? When will you develop faith in almighty God’s plan that everything will be taken care off?” my mother confronted my father. Eventually it was my younger sister who brokered peace and I was left wondering whether my father upbraided me for the occasional drag or participation in theatre. Perhaps it was a combination of both the factors. Is there a circle of reason in life? I reckon there is a circle of reason in life which has both historical as well as supernatural elements. Mythical and supernatural elements have been woven by dramatists like Shakespeare and Girish Karnad. Bumboo in his jealousy had created ideas, characters and metaphors and the irony was they boomeranged on him. His actors and characters were yet to become fiendish metaphors, all this thought process was negative. And it is a truism that it imploded in greater negativity. The characters as well as different situations of our lives included our two families, Satra and his desperation to succeed and to ensure my downfall. But all these were rooted in baseless obsession. There was a historical context in my migration from St Michael’s to St Xavier’s and our family’s association with many spiritual masters which acted as a ballast in my recovery physically and mentally. Anyone who studies the importance of positive thinking and efficacious thoughts comes to realize that the more positive our thoughts, the more positive our life would be. Others see it as a Law of the Universe, and that we are all affected by the Law of Attraction, or the Law of Vibration. Many consider the effects of the power of the subconscious mind and how a person’s unconscious beliefs affect their life and their ability to achieve their goals. She inculcated this quality in me and advised me to stay positive and remain humble. I had passed out of school and enrolled as a student of the prestigious Hindu College based on my academic performance and Bumboo soon joined the class through patronage.