In college, I found myself questioning some of the ideas that I had accepted till then as undiluted truth.
The British authorities who were totally ignorant of Indian culture and heritage gave us history lessons that made students feel an unending admiration towards the British past and sheer ennui towards India.
The Indian history that we studied told us nothing about how the essential aspects of mathematics, medicine, astrology, logic, economics, grammar, philosophy, and politics reached the West via the ancient Greeks and Arabs.
We learned nothing about how the ivory, teak, peacocks, and spices from Kerala graced Solomon’s capital.
Nothing was mentioned about how our country was the seat of a glorious civilisation at a time when the inhabitants of northern Europe were passing their days like cavemen.
In other words, found no trace of anything that would make us feel proud of our country.
We blindly believed made-up tales like that of the “Black Hole” of Calcutta.
Stories like the one about the Battle of Plassey, in which, allegedly, a small troop of British soldiers defeated a vast Indian army tales that were puffed up with colonial conceit and self-importance – predominated in history lessons.
These stories, which turned, without any shame, all the victories won through sheer perfidy into sagas of triumph, were the means through which the rulers of that day tried to instil in us a deep-rooted sense of inferiority.
I am not very aware of the material circumstances and the mentality of the mixed-race community of Anglo-Indians who came to be organised after Indian independence under the leadership of Frank Anthony.
But the members of this community whom I met during my college days displayed a ludicrous sense of self-importance and no small measure of arrogance.
Among them were white- and brown-skinned people, as well as those who were as dark-skinned as the African kaappiris.
But those who came from near Fort Kochi in Kerala, with surnames such as D’Costa, D’Mello, D’Silva, and others, were relatively well-behaved.
It was just that they would speak only in English even though they were fluent in Malayalam.
The non-Malayali Anglo-Indians seemed determined to convince themselves and others that they were of exclusive white origin.
When my classmate, Florence Richie, speaking in an English class one day, chose to say “When we conquered India…” instead of “When the British conquered India …,” we, her classmates who were totally Indian, protested quite vociferously at her.
The speech by Gandhi that I listened to in Thrissur during my college years, the speeches of Rabindranath Tagore that I heard in Madras, my knowledge of the Khilafat movement and the extreme cruelty of the British in suppressing the Mappila Rebellion that broke out subsequently in Malabar, VD Savarkar’s biography, his work The Indian War of Independence, and his account of life as a prisoner in the Andaman Islands – all this wiped out my admiration for foreign rule permanently.
Our principal, Miss D Delahey, was an Englishwoman.
She was, in every way, a capable leader, ably managing the college and the large hostel attached to it.
Efficiency and an unbiased nature were not her only virtues.
There were a few guardians who tried to secure privileges for their wards through bribes.
Miss Delahey spoke against this openly in a public meeting in college one day.
This apparently put an end to the practice.
No one dared to approach her with such enticements after her public statement.
Within weeks of college reopening, many events – thought-provoking and informative lectures, enjoyable cultural performances – would be organised in the college hall.
Dr Annie Besant, Dr Cousins, Mrs Margaret Cousins, Sir CP Ramaswamy Iyer, and others were among the luminaries who spoke at these events.
Every Sunday, the fair, tall, very handsome Swamiji from the Ramakrishna Mission in Madras – Swami Shraddhananda – would come to the college to conduct a class on the Bhagavad Gita.
Not just Hindu students but also some Anglo-Indian students would gather to listen to him.
They would ask him questions about the Hindu faith, too.
In Queen Mary’s College, there were many students who were musically talented and played musical instruments.
They would come together to perform in an orchestra from time to time.
I used to find this very enjoyable.
Students would....
