Barrister Parvateesam

How wonderful it would be if all the lessons here were delivered in this lecture style! If one listens attentively to these lectures, there may be no need to laboriously study textbooks. Even if one does study, there would be no need for the help of a private tutor—one could pass the time quite comfortably. So I thought. The professor turned towards his room. All of us quietly made our way upstairs, without any of the childish mischiefs of our homeland—no chaos, no loud talking, no pushing and shoving each other.

As we were taking off our overcoats and hats in the corridor, a few English students and a couple of Indians approached me. They congratulated me on my courage and my command of the language. One of them, an Indian, asked, “What did you pass in our country?”

“I didn’t pass anything,” I replied.

“Then how did you learn such good English?” he asked.

“I hired a private tutor here and learned from him. He taught me very well,” I said.

“Oh! Is that so? That’s quite surprising,” he said, laughing sarcastically as he walked away.

Thus, my education at the university began.

That afternoon, there were two more classes. I returned home at four o’clock without any mishap, had tea, and went to Raju’s lodging. We chatted for a while, and I narrated the morning’s classroom comedy in detail.

“That’s nothing, it’s all good,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything. Everything will go smoothly,” Raju encouraged me.

After he had his tea, the two of us went outside and, chatting leisurely, climbed up Blackworth Hills, where we had been before. By then, many people had gathered there. Some of our own countrymen were also visible. We all chatted together for a while and then started a game of tag. As soon as the game began, many young men and women from the surroundings gathered in front of us. We played with great enthusiasm. I, recalling the skills I had back in my hometown...

Based on my experience and my performance, they elected me as the captain, just as before. As we played, the spectators grew more and more enthusiastic, their whistles, claps, and “hip hip hoorays” reaching a fever pitch.

No sooner had our game ended than about ten young men from among the audience—our own age—came over and insisted that we include them too and teach them this game, otherwise they wouldn’t let us go. “Alright then,” I said, and we took some of them in, explaining the rules and methods of the game for about ten minutes before stepping onto the field again.

Our team started the chant first. The opposing team, not knowing how to catch us, was a bit confused at first. Eventually, though, they managed to catch one of us and send him out. Then it was their turn to chant. A young Scottish lad came forward. Not knowing how to begin the chant, he looked at us and started off with a “Oh yes, well, well!” We stopped him at once and began to instruct him all over again. No matter how much I tried, I simply couldn’t get him to say “Hari ball” properly. However much I explained, he would say “well” for a while, then “bell” for a while. Finally, I told him, “Forget it, just keep repeating ‘doo doo’ without pausing for breath.” But even if his life depended on it, he couldn’t hold his breath on that syllable.

“Alright, forget that. In English, just pick any letter you like and keep repeating it without stopping for breath,” I suggested. But even that was beyond him. “Well then, just keep saying ‘ooo…’ without pausing,” I said, but he couldn’t manage that either.

“That’s enough, my boy. If you can’t do it, then neither I nor even Brahma, the creator himself, could teach you,” I said. He didn’t understand what I meant, and I had no intention of making it any clearer.

Still, their curiosity to learn the game only grew. They insisted that I must explain it somehow, and pressured me so much that I had no choice but to say something. So I said, “Gentlemen, let’s do one small thing. Just learn to say two short English words quickly, no need to hold your breath. You can take a breath in between. For the sake of the game, just say ‘Welcome’ or ‘Come in’ quickly, let’s see how that works.”

They tried to say “Well come come in” quickly, mixing up all four words, but even that they couldn’t manage.

While this lesson was going on, our own Indians from the north—

Some of the Desasthas came and said they too wanted to join in. When I tried to teach them the same method, they couldn’t pick it up quickly either. So I said, “Let’s just say ‘Welcome’.” Even after ten tries, saying that proved a bit difficult. In “Welcome,” some of them left out the “l” and started with “Come” or “Wek.” So I dropped that too and suggested we say “Come in.” That, too, was hard for some to say quickly.

“This isn’t working,” I said, “let’s just say ‘Time… Time… Time…’” That sounded a bit odd to them. Finally, one of the Scottish lads boldly said, “Don’t mind us, we’ll just say ‘Ta… Tan… Tan…’” I said, “Splendid, let’s leave it at that.”

After that, my game went on smoothly for a while. For several days, they earnestly requested that I give them practice. I agreed and told them to come along, and Raju and I turned our minds homeward. They were all very happy. Thanks to this, all my friends started teasing me as if I had become a big leader.

Thus, every evening, this became a pastime for us. Every day, we would play, and our new disciples would praise the game, saying it was great fun, and played with much enthusiasm. After some days had passed like this, I caught