Never strayed from its intentions

Dr Rama Subbiah Scholarship Fund
Golden Jubilee Celebration (1967-2017)

Most of us who studied in the local universities are quite familiar with Dr Rama Subbiah Scholarship Fund which had been a boon to many underprivileged varsity students of Indian descent. Not many of us, however, know much about Dr Rama Subbiah and the genesis of this fund.

Dr Rama Subbiah (1933-1969) is first Malaysian Ph D holder in the field of Linguistics. Working as a lecturer in University Malaya and Chairman of NUPW-PPN Hostel Management Committee, he financed, out of his pocket, accommodation for TAR College Indian students who had to commute long distances on a bus from out of town to study their A-levels. That started in 1967.

From then on, the hostel students contributed their hostel security deposit money to start a scholarship fund. Many individuals later pledged small but regular contributions to this embryonic scholarship endowment which was initially named 'The Indian Students Scholarship Fund'. After the untimely demise of Dr Rama in a tragic motor vehicle accident, it was renamed 'Dr Rama Subbiah Scholarship Fund'.

The help via this fund reached out to many students of humble backgrounds. They, in turn, after reaping the benefit of this endowment, continued the trend. Beneficiaries were required to reimburse what they had received into a revolving fund once they started working. Over the years, the Board which manages this resource has increased their base capital through social fundraising activities.

It recently celebrated its Silver Jubilee, its fifty years of existence.

Poetry is in the silences and pauses between words!

Aligarh (2016)

Young men flirt with young girls in the open (and vice versa) but most people in an urban setting would not think much of it. But when two consenting men decide to show their passion for each other in the secluded privacy of their home, the public agrees that it is their God-sanctioned duty to shame the deviant couple! They insist that it is against the norm of Nature and would go to great lengths to correct this, even if to kill, in spite of God's plea for the conservation of all of His creations. They are not interested in scientific and medical explanations for their aberrance.  They say "it is all crystal clear. He decreed, we follow. It is my duty to ensure that His law is carried out here on earth. Period."

This, is the essence, is the story of a Professor in India's third highest ranking University, Aligarh Muslim University in Uttar Pradesh. Professor Shrinivas R. Siras,  a 62-year-old divorcee, six months from his retirement, heads the Department of Modern Indian Languages. He had been honoured for his works, in particular, a romantic poem on the moon at the national level.

The news of his consensual sex with a male rickshaw puller hit the headlines one day. His ungentlemanly conduct cost him his job, created a public uproar, media frenzy and student demonstration. 

This film tells his story from the angle for an intern journalist, Deepu Sebastian (Rajkummar Rao). He builds a rapport with the professor (an excellent performance by Manoj Bajpayee) who has been suspended and is on the run from hostile homophobes in the university. Deepu discovers the incredibly lonely life that Siras leads, indulging himself in old songs, poetry, writing and teaching. His post comes with many jealous subordinates who are just out to discredit and disgrace him.

Siras sues the University for reinstatement. At that time, homosexuality was decriminalised by the Delhi High Court, and Siras got off the hook. Unfortunately soon after the verdict, he was found dead in mysterious circumstances. His case was closed by the police due to insufficient evidence.

Aligarh University has an ancient history. It was set up in the late 19th century by a set of local visionaries who wanted Indians especially of Muslim descent, to seek knowledge to the edge of the world to meet modern-day demands. The idea came about when the founder visited Oxbridge. 

The tradition of intellectual discourse goes back to the Golden Era of Islamic Civilisation when think-tanks of the day used their argumentative skills to impart their input to unravel the mystery of life and the universe. They were receptive to new knowledge. Unfortunately, over time, complacency had closed the mind to new critical thinking and clergymen are quite content solving modern day problems with medieval formulas. And it has proved disastrous, so far.

The ballad of Thangachi 2

It was a cool German June morning. SS still had her bearings all wrong. She is still jet lagged. After all, she had just arrived at Leipzig University to present her paper.

Today is a special day. It is the day she turns 50. Yes, the big scary Five-O! Wow, there used to be a time when she thought 50 was the age where people plan for retirement to play stupid little games with their spoilt brat grandchildren. But, hell no! She has so much to achieve. The last things she feels now is old. Sure, a little aches here and there, breathlessness, extra pounds around the mid-riff but old, no way.

Not bad, she told herself. Coming from humble beginnings in a household where melancholy was the tone everyday, she has come far. Her childhood was plagued with chronic asthma which she kept cursing her paternal side of her family as they were the carriers of that gene. Every member of his family had one thing to boast about - asthma. It was like a family heritage. She spent many days crouched breathing to let oxygen permeate through her lungs. And many unattended school days affected her school performance. She remember hitting rock bottom somewhere in the upper primary school when my position in class fell a few places short of last in class.

It is not that her parents neglected her condition. The affordable government clinic accorded short term relief but recurrence was a nagging issue. Frustrated with modern medicine, the family, with their limited finances, still forked out precious money to try Ayurvedic preparation. She consumed litres of dissolved powdered concoctions over years with no avail. Even, Sufi priests had a hand in giving a lease of new life to her. Miraculously by Grace of God of whatever name or origin or the self limiting nature of the disease itself, she was indeed given a new slate, respiratory wise. All those frustrated years of hopelessness and bearing of chiding from mother for not 'trying hard enough' paid off. Her late teenage years was her turning point.

Greed and jealousy are considered enemies of mankind. But combined with willpower and determination, it can be a powerful arsenal, they say. Sure enough, she climbed the ladder of academia and now hope to scale heights that none of her coolie ancestors had scaled before.
Happy 50th birthday, SS.

Even before the euphoria of her birthday sizzled out, she returned home to hear that her sister was about to be driving around the town painting it red with her spanking grey hued new Mazda C5.
If her paternal grandfathers could get as near as being washing car or chauffeuring for a living, these two girls have gone one step further - driving their own car and sending it to car wash! Haha..

Extreme right: Soon to be Dr Sheila Ph D and her entourage in Leipzig University

In our chase to a bright future...

The Paper Chase (1973)

The TV series by the same name used to be a hit those days. The idea of a dedicated teacher (Prof Kingsfield) who maintains the teacher-student relationship and has the welfare of his students at heart fascinated us as we were plunging into tertiary education and uncertainties of our future.

Unfortunately, when we entered university, we were sorely disappointed with our contemporaries who were anything like the 1st year Harvard law students who were portrayed in this film/TV series. They were shy and not forthcoming with their input in the daily class discussions. On the other hand, there were some who were apprehensive about divulging too much knowledge for fear that others may know too much! (kiasu)

Professor Kingsfield: You teach yourselves the law, but I train your minds. You come in here with a skull full of mush; you leave thinking like a lawyer.

Outlet valve...

After 26 years, comrades of the same ship pursuing the same paper qualification met up recently. Many things happened in their lives, the good, bad and ugly. Definitely, they had all matured gracefully. They were no more the shy inhibited individuals as before. Hard knocks of life have made them approachable and humble.

Each attendee was given the opportunity to narrate their career journey. One thing that I noticed is that everyone had their own outlet to unwind from the demands of their daily dealings. Two cruise along the country road on their Harley Davidson bikes, one spend precious time of solitude in an orchard tugged far from human activity. One continue collecting diplomas and paper qualifications. One immerse himself in the pixels world of photography. Yet one runs marathons and away from his shadow. Quite a number surrender themselves to philanthropy. 

Of all of the interesting extracurricular activities that I heard that evening, one insists that she chose archery as a sport that sharpened her mind. She finds that her mental acuity is sharpened by pulling the bow to aim the arrow at the bullseye.

Memories are made of these...

Suckling piglet, anyone?

Just the other day, yours truly happened to gate crash into my cousin's friends' farewell party. The crowd had known each other for, like forever, ever since they were siphoned to a foreign land at an impressionable age to do good with their future. Just out of the confusing age of teenage years, shuffled into the turmoil era of the twenties, they had the scary sight of their whole future laid bare for them to mold. With the grace of the divine powers and help from some friends of the same boat, they sailed the rough seas. Amid the choppy waters and howling winds, they got across in one piece, shaken but not beaten. And boy, did they have heap of tall tales to tell of the journey.
I came to understand that that is what apparently happened every time they meet up. All their university days' stories will be told and re-told and they would have a good laugh at it as if they are hearing it for the first time. And the free flow of booze helped in the process of loosening up the heavy burden and the inhibitions that wear them down.
After the jam session of the same story, the similar minded comrades would go on to their respective lives, do their day-time jobs that they endeavoured so hard for with the belief that the gang would meet up again to laugh at their antics of a time of innocence when the world was the oyster when they were kings.
This is how brotherly bonds stronger than Spiderman's web shooters are made!