TAMSA IN DMSLAND

Amidst the hazy memories of my entire school days some moments are of absolute clarion. The vivid memories of my first visit to the DMS. My first ever interview. Dressed in a white frock I entered the office of Mrs. J Sen, Headmistress of the primary wing, with my Bubu (father) very casually and greeted with a warm smile.  After the formal introduction and reciting few nursery rhymes I was asked to arrange different size of pink blocks in descending order to make a pyramid. I went on perfectly well till I reached the final stage. Instead of putting the smallest one on the top I placed it in the second (from the top) and was about to place on the slightly bigger one above it . Mrs Sen interrupted me and said, “Don’t you think the smallest one should be on the top, or else it will fall’’. But I was defiant and replied her “No it will not” and did it in ‘my way’. Lo and behold! It didn’t fall down!! She was very impressed and took me in her arms. She said to my Pa, “Mr Mohapatra, your daughter is a very confident and determined child.”

The tide of time eroded my confidence up to some extent in the later years.

The experiences of K.G Class are sweet. Miss Padmini was our class teacher.  Playing  with friends... Ringa Ringa Roses, Fire in the mountain, Lock and key, Dog and the Bone, Hide and Seek, Rumal Chori with song ‘ I sent a letter to my father on the way I dropped it ..A postman came and picked it up and put it in his pocket..’ was full of fun and joy .The innocent nuances of Ananya Dev who used to eat our tiffins!! Rita, Sujit Ganguly, Sujit Mukherji, Smarajit kanungo, Biswaranjan, Femina…and many more who continued in DMS but Femina left the school in midway. But many new friends joined later. Ultimately we had three sections from class V onwards.

I won my first fancy dress competition, dressed as a bride, in KG . After that the senior girls would  pamper me and pull my cheeks :)

How can I ever forget our adorable Ayah who is no more. May her soul be ever blessed.

Yearning for those carefree days and wonderful peers.

In the primary classes, school seemed like a home away from home. The affectionate  Mrs. Dipti Dutta, stern but a fabulous Maths teacher Miss Leela with a cane bag and of course the magic of the Majestic (late)Miss Benson engulfed everybody. She said to my Pa that I talk too much in the class and would indulge with long convos with my Pa :)

As I grew up my favourite place was our school Library which had a huge collection of variety of classy books. I read all the 14 volumes of Krishnavatara by K M Munshi. But my fav were those of Enid Blyton’s series of The Famous Five, Amelia Jane and Mr Twiddle.

The SUPW classes were interesting and at times boring. Made a vegetable cutter and egg whipper in the Metal class. In the Home Science class we were trained in stiching, knitting and some easy cookings. I learned to make sandwiches in a hand toaster but never allowed by my mother to try at home. Truly multipurpose! Hated the HPER classes but have the highest regards for Hanan Sir, one of the finest man I have ever come across.

Lost touch with my friends for decades but much delighted to be connected through the social media. Minakshi, Sipra, Minati, Chinmayee, Biswajita,  Neeta, Sasmita, Kaumudee ..you all are darlings :)
The ever enthusiastic and exuberant boys of DMS'83 are awesome :)

Wrapping it up with a few lines –

“Many a times the musical waves of my heart

 Sank into the Sea of Silence

 When melancholy weaves my memory loom

 Hoping for crimson roses to bloom”

Cheers and Best wishes to all my dear friends :)

Holding on to the best days of my life ...

I have only foggy memories of school. Mixed reminisces, most of which I cannot even call my own. However, I often muse over the fact that I never wanted to bunk school, not even on sick days when my dad threatened to call the headmaster, if I did not relent.  

For some reason, it always felt like one big family. N Mishra Sir would often remark, “Mayurbhanj ra Adivasi pila guda bhala padhuchanti ta!” Often times, I reveled in past glory, for my brothers were the real “good” students. One time Kameswar Rao Sir caught me red-handed – and my mom’s laborious pleas to my brother to do my homework was wasted! “This is your brother’s writing. Don’t repeat this act!” Little did anyone know that my brother often had to write down debate points for my so-called ‘extempores’.

Our class boys were so funny, every day was a unique experience with newer pranks and newer adventures in DMS and RCE combined campus. Biswajita and I were a bonded pair, though every girl from A/B/C felt like a BFF those days. Biswajita’s charm and style was something I forever tried hard to emulate. I remember feeling very proud knowing her sister in law from US personally when she visited our school. With Rajesh Srivastava, I had a special bond even though I so wished that for once Hanan Sir would give the boys low marks in HPER, so that I could spring ahead in the total tally. Rajesh never ever had the shyness that is so common at that age.

Over the years, as I disconnected from Bhubaneswar, I had some flashing memories of ~

• Shailaja’s great memorizing skills and Sipra’s perfect English and Geography
• Sid Sahu’s flowing proses and Jayant’s melodious voice
• Rajesh Chintak’s cool demeanor and Tridib’s command over his now-famous ‘gang’
• Sandeep’s red shirt and Tariq’s style
• Geeta's crisp uniforms and Sankalpa's quintessential Bengali ways

While my nights were often somber and interjected with spurts of pain my mom felt, my days at school were so bright and cheerful that they more than made up for everything. The school bus trips were in particular, very pleasant, and almost erased the weariness stemming from lack of proper sleep.

SACHHI DIL KI BAAT

Debasish Panigrahi


Zindagi ki shuruwati safar mein chale the hum saath saath
Taare chhune ki tammana thi to chhuta hamari aur aapki saath
Poojta hoon is social media ko jo phir se pahunchaya mere dil ki baat
Warna kaise batlate hum aap sab hein humare kitne khaas
Doston, ye ek ehsas hai - mitne nahin denge, pura hai vishwas
Ye hai mere sachhi dil ki baat

Experiences

Debasish Panigrahi.

1. Once in the game of hide n seek I was to find others in hiding. I didn't like to find them. So I also hid myself. After sometime they realised that they have been fooled n came out very angry.  Notably upset SD paaji went after me all through the playground in front. But his long legs were no match for my speed. All through the day he gave me very angry looks which I remember n enjoy.

2. I scribbled something on a piece of paper on my 1st crush/luv n kept inside a book. Sid Sahu borrowed the book n got the chit. It became a weapon in his hand n he continued to blackmail me for every little thing n I was just a puppet at his disposal n I didn't enjoy it at all.

3 . There r many more but others may have better ones n I must stop here.

The Free Fall - Jayanta Mukherjee

One day after lunch Rajesh Srivastava and myself quietly went to the stage behind our school, bunking our Music class. As we were playing and gossiping, Rajesh climbed up to the beam on the top and reached the center. He encouraged me to join him. At first I was a bit reluctant, but my friend’s constant motivation inspired me to hang myself there too! We were both enjoying the game and as I was almost about to reach Rajesh, we both heard the dreaded voice -“Hey You There, Hold On, I am coming”. Both of us turned back to see in the direction of the voice. Can you guess who was it?

It was our Jungle Man – K.C. Das and was heading at a huge speed to catch us red handed. Both of us were petrified! Rajesh’s face was a tomato and mine must have looked like I had just swallowed a bottle of bitter gourd juice! I wanted to scream - “AB TO MAR GAYE”. Rajesh had better reflexes so he jumped down immediately. I was still hoping for a miracle! KCD was approaching nearer and Rajesh was already on his GYARAH NUMBER KI GADI towards the library. Friends are friends. As he was running away, he was still shouting “ABE KUD YAAR KUD”. I did not know what to do and was feeling horribly scared. All sorts of thoughts were coming to my mind, as to what would happen if I am caught. He would perhaps hit me left and right and also complain to my parents. Soon the whole class would know of it, and… “Oh! My God, what a disgrace!”

Somehow the miracle happened and I jumped, my eyes tightly closed and my lips muttering “JAI BAJARAG BALI”. I had a couple of seconds of FREE FALL! My trance ended and I fell on thorny bushes below with a thud. I opened my eyes and saw that “ALL IS WELL”. I followed Rajesh towards the library. Once we both were together, we hugged each other and started laughing and dancing…. “BACH GAYE YAAR”. KCD could not run after us and he left the trail. Suddenly we wondered what if KCD comes from the other side! We ran towards the Music Room, entered it and sat quietly like good boys. Luckily, Music Madam was not there in the class at that moment. LADY LUCK WAS ON OUR SIDE THAT DAY. We never mentioned about this incident to anyone else. We managed not to fall in front of KCD for some time. Later, he also must have forgotten our faces and we were safe enough to play our next prank!

My tributes to our great teachers - Pradeep Sahu

My Tributes....On the Occasion of Golden Jubilee of DMS…My tributes to the great teachers/ GURUs at DMS who were excellent. They made us believe in ourselves and told was there was light at the end of the tunnel…They are GODs for us…

I would like to take this opportunity to pay my tributes to our late Headmaster Mr K.C.Das. (Although much has been written in appreciation of this great soul but still I feel it is too less as compared to his contributions to society).

I remember my 1st class teacher in Class V, Section B, Mrs. Pramila Sathpathy. She was an excellent, caring personality yet strict. She was the first one ever to have taught us the basics about learning Odia at school. Thank you a lot ma’m because you are the One who started it for me, whatever I’m today, you are the one who instilled the love for my mother tongue. I remember how I sulked in Odia Grammer! I had to work on it a lot! You were the one who made me the class monitor.…

Miss Mickey Benson (late)!!! Ma’m..Me and all my batch mates will certainly miss you a lot. We were just AWE STRUCK by your teachings, sense of dressing, the aura, and your love as our class teacher. You were a great human being and I pray for your soul to rest in peace and may the almighty give you a place in his abode for you to guide us from heaven. We will miss your many English dramas like the Merchant of Venice and other Shakespeare dramas.

Mr. Konduru Kameswar Rao!!! How can I forget Sir. He was very strict with us boys, and used to handle the girls with utmost care. He was this bachelor teacher who had weakness for fashionable dresses and Maths. He had a very unique way of teaching Maths. His English with a Telugu accent was very interesting. He used to give tuition to many of our batch mates. He used to visit my neighbor’s house (Srinivas Bhai’s) and S.L.Mohan Rao’s house on his new cycle and give me a few tips on how to solve Maths problems. After school, almost after 25 years, last year I had a chance meeting with Sir at a wedding reception at Hotel Surayansh and invited him to my home. The next day...very early morning Sir was at my place to meet Sujata and Isha. He explained to Isha how one can excel in life with music and maths. It was a great moment for me and my family.

Mr P.N. Mishra Sir!!! This great English teacher with his white dress, hat and impeccable signature of Paramananda Mishra laid a strong foundation in English in all of us. I still cannot forget how he made us practice the heel marching and his commanding voice to make corrections in our postures during the practice sessions in NCC, and OMG how handsome he looked on those national festival days in the ceremonial dress and leading the parade in the parade grounds with the shining sword in his hands. He was just very royal and impressive the way he carried himself in the class and in the parade grounds.

Mr.B.B.Nayak Sir!!! This gentlemen teacher was the most feared but he was too good with his English Grammar teachings and who can forget his anger when silly mistakes were made while answering his Qs.

Mr. N. Mishra Sir!!! One of his daughters was our classmates and another our senior. Sir used to teach us English also. He was very particular about pronunciation. He was too thin and his daughters were much thinner. I recently met his elder daughter who is working as a SBI manager and enquired about sir's health. Sir is not doing well. My prayers will always be for his good health.

The late Mr. N. Rai who shouted at us while we went about understanding the History of India all through the ages. We were all least interested with the long notes he dictated and made various kinds of noises, and then he would shout at us not to jump like frogs in the classroom and we had all fun when he was not looking at us.

Mr. G.N. Das, he was witty, intelligent, learned and was great in his English... teaching us Civics. With his rye smile he used to have a sense of purpose in his classes. He was lovingly called JANDA by all his students.

Mr. Debraj Sahoo, Sir!! used to teach us Geography and then he left for higher studies for a few years and then again was back in school after a few years.

Mr. P.N.Panda Sir!!! How can anyone forget sir? He had a unique style of delivery. He used to punish each one of us when we were unable to answer his questions by saying Dhala Dhala Shirt re Kala Kala Bottama answer dela bela ku nahin tora nama…and his “stand up on the chair” shouts. We all used to giggle when the huge bodied ones stood up on the chair blocking Sir’s view from us. We had fun at the back when Tridib used to stand on the chair in front of us.

Mrs. Sandhya Mohanty!!! Ma’m was our class teacher and was unmarried when she joined school. She used to teach us Maths. I loved the way she used to shout at us for not doing the problem solving and forcing her to do it on the black board. She used to get irritated while we had fun in the back benches.

Mr. S.S.Das!!! Sir used to teach us Chemistry and he was really very good in his subject. He was strict and disciplined in his lectures. Although we enjoyed his teachings but many of us were not very good in understanding the complexities behind the many chemical equations he taught us.

I wish all my teachers [alongwith Mrs. Celinama Ma’m and (late) Mrs. B. Samal Ma’m!!! (both taught us Biology), Mr. Samal (Fine Arts), Mrs. Sarala Jena (Music), Mrs. Anjali Tripathy (Geography), Mr. Sankar Mishra (Maths), Mr. S.L. Mohan Rao and Mr. K.C. Mishra sir ( both taught us Hindi), Mr. L.K.Bhopa Sir (Maths), Mr. Hazari Sahoo and (Late) Mr. S.A. Hanan (Sports teachers) and many other teachers who shaped and moulded us] GOD's abundant blessings, good health, peace and happiness.

I love my friends, my school and my school days - Pranati Mohanty

Hello, friends. I am very late to share my feelings of my schooldays. All of a sudden, I wish to write something about our '83 batch mates. I was having a very nice time with my cousins out of Bhubaneswar during the summer holidays of 1977. All of a sudden my father called back me to attend the written test at D.M. School. I was a little bit hesitant to attend that test as all my old friends had joined other schools. However, I appeared the test in spite of my unwillingness. And, to my utter surprise I found myself to be placed in the 12th position of the merit list.Till today I couldn't forget that day. However, following my elder brother in Std. IX , I joined the school.

On the first day I met Sailaja at the corridor of the school. When I entered the classroom I found a shy girl sitting on the first row of the class that is Kaumudee..... Presently, she is Dr. Kaumudee of that day. I had some interaction with her. In the boys' side Ashutosh was sitting on the first row whom I could know after our interaction with class teacher. Now I am refreshing my memory with Ashutosh's Kotha Bhoga Khiya bhajan of that time. Later I met Sasmita Patnaik, Geeta, Gayatri, Subhra, Sasmita Mishra who used to be my previous classmate. At that time I was thinking Subhra as an old student of the school as she was having a leader type personality from that time also. Even today I couldn't forget Geeta's all-round performance in study, art, music, dance, debate so ... so. Subhra was outstanding in sports activities; was enjoying my tiffin time with Sasmita Patnaik, Neeta, Kaumudee , with the Chat & gupchup walas. In Std. VI, I got two prizes in 100 mts race and skipping race in Annual Sports, which was my starting career in the school . That I got haphazardly without any practice.

In SUPW, I had prepared a metal mug out of coconut oil container with Satyabrata as my silent partner. Actually our teachers at that time created tremendous enthu among us to move forward in all fields.

One of our friends, Suchismita Mishra died in tonsillitis operation in Std. V, in whose memory our Kabbadi Championship Cup was promoted. Fortunately, to our utter grace we won that Kabbadi Championship Cup consecutively for three years since Std. VI defeating our strong seniors & also won Khokho Championship for two years. Thanks to the effort of Ms. T. Roy, who is no more. Thanks to the tremendous effort put forth by our team members namely Minakshi, Meeta, Kamakshi, Biswajita, Neeta, myself and Subhra as the Captain of the Kabbadi Team.We were seriously enjoying those games at that time. Sailaja was the Queen of the track at her times and was having Sports Championship for few years. I still remember Sailaja telling me "To Munda To Lanja". I don't know what she was meaning at that time.

We enjoyed our picnics to Kapilash and Baliharchandi with our seniors at that time. We had gone for a study tour to Ajanta, Ellora in Std. IX with my friend Geeta, Chandrama, Kaumudee, Meeta, Minati , Debadatta, Siddhartha, Sandeep Dhawan, Palash accompanied by our Head Master Mr. K.C. Das, Mr. S. Das, Mr. J.N.Das, Sandhya Ma'm, Renu Ghosh Ma'm. We enjoyed the trip a lot at that time.

Mriganka, Geeta, Himanshu, Parthasarathy, Madhulita, Biswaranjan's outstanding academic performance still live in my memory. Minati entered into our batch later in Std. VII. She used to perform several dance programs with Geeta at that time.

I still remember Ambuja's swift and fast running in the corridor of the Assembly Hall in spite of strict warning of our Head master Mr. K.C. Das, who is no more with us now. Ambuja & Satyajit's naughty & haughty activities of that time shall be in the memory of all our friends. Sorry, for the sad demise of Satyajit at such an early age.

I admire the innocence of our Oriya teacher Mrs. S. Devi & our geography teacher Mrs. Anjali Tripathy's annoyance, Mr. P.N. Mishra's dynamic personality as our class teacher, Sankar Sir's Maths class, Uttam Sir & Madan Sir's Oriya Drama & poems.

However to my utter surprise in 2009 or 2010, I was astonished & delighted to see one of my classmate named Pradeep as my teacher in my MBA Class, whom I couldn't recognize instantly. After his self-introduction he informed me about some of our friends.

Although I left the School after Std X, still I am in contact with both the Sasmitas, Gayatri , Bhubaneswari, Ajit, Susant, Byomojit , Siddhartha, Manoj, Manoranjan who are staying locally We had gone for picnic at Dhauli, Ramchandi, Puri , Chilka during last 7/8 years.

Cherished with the sweet memories of those school days still I feel myself to be in that age, Still I am longing for those sweet memorable days. However, most of our friends are well placed in several fields and some of them are also settled abroad who shall be missing our school and schooldays a lot, but we the friends staying locally are refreshing our memories of schooldays while passing at the side of the school.

At last I wish to say that I love my friends, my school and my school days.

Also published in D.M. School's Golden Jubilee Souvenir, 2014.

If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older - Neeta Mohanty

This is straight from my heart for the Souvenir. 
 
*******************************
 
A 9-year old girl in 1977 came for an entrance exam in DM school to follow her two older brother’s footsteps. Memory is fading as to what the entrance exam was about, however the girl didn’t make it and ended up in first place in waiting list. DMS forgotten, she started in another school. About couple of months later, a letter came from DM School that a spot has opened up in fifth class and if the family was interested? Her father was happy with joy and jumped in to the opportunity and took her to the school next day. The ride to school (standing in front of his father’s Vespa scooter) was a long ride. As soon as they entered the school campus, the little girl was delighted to see the vast fields, the rows of Karamanga trees, the garden, the while compound wall that became daily routine for next 8 years! 30 years would pass by since 10th and the little girl named Neeta Mohanty would be fortunate enough to write for the golden jubilee celebration of the beloved school that laid down the foundation in her life. 
 
Joining school late was little challenging and there was lot of catching up to do. The structured education system in DM School was little challenging as well since my primary school years was split between multiple schools. Being one of the shortest girls in the class, I defaulted to first row along with Gayatri and Kaumudee, hence bonded with them the most initially. I always envied the tall girls, Minati and Sasmita Mishra who would get the prime location, the back row!! It did not take me long to feel like home, the teachers and friends, and the silly incidents would leave a permanent sweet spot in the memory. 
 
Sankar Sir, B.B Nayak, P.N Mishra, G.N Das, Sarala madam, Kalpana madam, Hanan Sir to name a few have laid the foundation. Salute to all the teachers.

Memories are many. Along with the academics, HPER, SUPW, and the language classes were one of a kind at the time. Home science was mostly for girls but I do not recall doing one thing right in that class. We had to knit a pair of socks once and mine did not look anything like a sock!! Remember building a board game in the electric class and some house hold items in the carpentry class. There was rivalry between boys and girls in the same section then there was rivalry within each section. Many nick names were created for friends and teachers. I had one too!! The nick names became permanent in the friend circle. I was afraid of some boys from senior classes and would not make eye contact and look the opposite way if I had to go past them for some reason. Recess was the most enjoyable part of the day. We used to run to the little hill behind the library (named as Mount Everest by us) as soon as the recess bell rang to have lunch at top of Mount Everest!! At times I would accompany Geeta to her house during recess. Toward the end of class 10th, we girls decided to have a feast. An all-girls meeting was called and it was unanimously decided not to include the boys, do not recall the logic behind it. We selected Minati house’s roof top as the feast spot. In the menu was bhata, dali, egg curry, and salad. Not bad for bunch of 15 year olds! I recommended a whopping 5 kg rice for 11 girls and wanted to confirm that with my sister to make sure we would have enough!! The rest is history; she still makes fun of me to this day.

Making fun of the teachers and then getting caught was not uncommon. Tattle-telling was part of life so was kid romance. Nothing has changed much though, life has come in full circle and I see the same in my 6th grade kids. I am looking forward to relive my childhood days by going back to school for the Golden Jubilee celebration. 
 
There is a saying “If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older”. Long live DMS tradition.

Also published in the DM School, Bhubaneswar's Souvenir on the occasion of its Golden Jubilee celebration.

Happiness and pleasure in simple things - Chinmayee Sahu

Those golden memories of my school days in D M school, when I try to remember, I muse over countless episodes of the treasured memories.

Everyday, I would saunter, hop onto the broken wired fences, cross the vast stretch of field and enter the Assembly area from the backyard, greet my friends with a wide smile. If you’ll all remember, greeting your friends with a “hi” back then was a new trendsetter and everyone found it fashionable enough to emulate it. Madhulita, Dharitri ...and me would stare at every other girl who came from the corridor, watching intently to find their lips shaping a perfunctory “hi” that would amuse us time after time and the three of would fall into fits of laughter. Our giggles and incessant gossip would come to an end when the khaki clad peon, Bankim would strike the heavy metalled plate hung near the drinking water tank, with a huge hammer. Our revered headmaster dressed in crisp white khadi with a heavy key bunch clattering in his right hand would soon appear in quick rapid steps and suddenly the noisy chatter would die down for the National Anthem to be sung.

I relished those moments when during the break time we girls would rush to the college building on the other side to play ‘help sister’ in the big open area near the auditorium hall. We would scream, laugh out loud and create so many rackets that one day the college authorities sent in a complaint about all the disturbances and eventually we were forbidden from playing there. 

Games periods were full on masti time except for the interludes of the commonly detested drill sessions. The mood would be very passionate and fervent during the Kabaddi matches, refereed by Taru madam with her characteristic whistle set in her lips. I still remember that victorious moment during a match, when I managed to grab Kamakshi’s leg and then our team dragged her to our side, she struggled and wrestled but could not reach the dividing line.... and she was out. She did not talk with me the whole day!

Karamanga trees in the school premises hold such priceless memories for me. Wonderful hours were spent walking with friends in the small Karamanga garden and savouring the khatta-mittha juicy fruit. God only knows how many!

Those were the days when we found happiness and pleasure in simple things. We have had such a wonderful time in the school.

I had been to the school in 2012 as an invigilator for the 10th Board Exam. As I walked through the corridor where the National Anthem is still sung, I reminisced those charming memories of school days and it was a bittersweet moment for those were the days of past and would never return.

It was love at first sight - Mriganka Das

 

The year 1981. My dad had just scored an assignment in the Middle East. Our family then in Burla, had to cope with a strange whirlwind of change, as our lives went floating like a river through a rainforest, full of surprises and the indomitable human spirit of coping and rising up from adversity. It was decided that since I was in 9th grade in Saint Joseph's in Sambalpur which followed the ICSE curriculum- it was too risky to follow him abroad and study in an International school(unlike my sisters), and so I had to move to Bhubaneswar and live with my uncle in his Acharya Vihar home. The inevitable search for a school started in earnest and had to be done with a degree of urgency. The dad and uncle took me to Stewart school - and it didn't strike the sense of zen that calms the disquiet of massive life changes. The place seemed not a right fit for me. I refused to take the entrance test and walked out.

Next up, my late uncle who was my childhood hero (a Physics PhD from UC Riverside, California who was faculty at the Institute of Physics) suggested a school that was ten minutes up the hill from his house called DM school. My uncle later moved to USA and was a Professor in Richmond Virginia. He was the one who bridged my gap between the ICSE math and the CBSE math, spending time with me that he didn't have to. He also took me to the dorms of the University of Virginia when I first arrived in US after Pilani - like a second father.

When, I saw DM school, it was love at first sight. The commute was short, the campus was sprawling, had loads of space and seemed very welcoming, the stuff that form the genesis of dreams for a sixteen year old, my own version of Hogwarts. There was a mystique about it, the playground was huge and there was a palpable air of excitement that the place exuded. I told my Dad, this is it - let us do it!

We enrolled for the entrance exam. I sat through it and it comprised of a few subjects the details of which has been purged from the memory banks. We came back the next day and were given some good news and some bad news. The good news was that I had made it. The bad news was there was no space in Sections A and B, and the only place they could put me was Section C. The Principal and the lady Oriya teacher looked at me with probing stares and asked me how much Oriya I knew in terms of reading and writing. I panicked as I had not done any Oriya after fourth grade and the Oriya I had done in ICSE was laughable, kindergarten stuff. However I wasn't going to let that deter me. I looked at the Oriya teacher in the eye and asked her what is the highest grade people could score in Oriya. She said 75% if you are lucky. I told the Principal- that's fine, I have got two years and this is my mother tongue - give me a shot, and I asked the Oriya teacher please help me just a bit. She was a very compassionate lady and she changed her tune. She saw the silent exhortation in my eyes and took pity, bless her soul. She said to me not to worry and she would help me with the language and told the Principal to go ahead and admit me.

In the end, after the CBSE board I went to meet the lady. I had tears in my eyes for all that she had done for me. I had scored a 72 on the Oriya exam and will never forget her magnanimity - she was very kind and told me that I had done everything that she expected of me and more - what a wonderful lady. That had made me meet all these wonderful friends and a great time in DM school - I even remember rooting for Amiya to do so great in cricket so he could represent state and country. I remember playing badminton with Durani and Subhashis. I remember playing wall cricket with Satyakam and being in awe of his dad. I remember most of you even if I can't make this an essay. I remember the girls, Sipra, Minakshi, Neeta, Geeta, and even Subhra Pathi who isn't here in the group. I remember the effusive Dhawan and Tridib. Of course remember Chintak and Subodh and the Vani Vihar khatti group and the nameless young ladies who made the evenings interesting. Pushp who circumstances brought us together again later in life and I share a special bond with as do our families. Sid and Debasis, who fearlessly patrolled the streets of Acharya Vihar looking for damsels in distress and not in distress - and later Sid has become family. I remember our Babu moshais - DK, Sankalpa and Jayanta (sans his impressive mustache) - remember our aluminum baron Gautam, Rajesh Das and the mercurial Srivastava. Rupak too - heartening to know that someone thinks that a country with 1.2 billion people needs some help. Biswaranjan was always the one with the sharp wit - Bimal calm and collected. I feel lucky that the Good Lord had woven me into a rich tapestry of the people in the best batch in the best school in Orissa. It propelled me to go on and like all of us a great journey whose final chapters are yet to be written. That has brought me back full circle again to this group, full of wonderful friends and lifelong relationships that will not be erased by time or distance.

The journey was eventful all through - Subhashis Panda

From the asbestos shed to the newly constructed block
Then a portion of the college and finally back to the main school
The journey was eventful all through
The variety of bathrooms and discovering new shortcuts
Getting my nasal cartilage broken on a desk during a fight with Satyajit...
Punished by RCM and eventually saved by Headu.
From getting patted on the cheek in the morn near the cycle stand
To getting whacked on the back of the head with a key-ringed hand
It was Headu ruling all the way
With Janda going simultaneously and Chakuli rubbing his nose
PN Panda’s “dahling” and “patring” to PN Mishra’s duster blaster
Kamia’s unique style of boxing the girls’ ears and BB Nayak’s arrangements
Blotting Geo ma'am’s saree with a leaky fountain pen as she taught adiabatic cooling
Breaking Sandhya ma'am’s brand new “sankha choodi”
A reflex action as she tried to slap me for no fault of mine
Getting caught by Vidyarthee while trying to steal amrut
And finally back to Headu, who again saved my day.

Bengali classes, NCC and Mass Drill - Debjeet Kar

Once the period bell rang we all separated ourselves for the language classes. The Bengali language classroom was placed slightly ahead of the teachers common room in the first floor and the pathway used to be kept dark at all times. And slowly but surely we used to move towards that language classroom. We never ever used to see the room open for us. It would remain bolted from inside. Incidentally there was a hole in the door which would relieve us from any misconception abo...ut any room closed from inside.

When we bent and placed one of our eyes in the door hole we used watch our teacher in a tight nap right over the study table( imagine the height and the base of the tables). The tables were joined together to form a bed. The sleeping position had feet towards the door. We wondered how a person lay flat on this and that too a “deep” sleep, in a trance. As our naughty thoughts ran through our minds suddenly a boom bang thang dhang sound occurred which used to put me, Rupak, Sajal, Ananya miles away from the scene. And when we kept peeping from a distance we see the door open and it was a fun to watch the innocent faces of Sankalpa , Sujit Mukherjee, Ganguly , Madhulita and Rita Mondal who arrived by then and not oblivious of the incident that happened seconds ago. We later use to poke them not to furnish our names. So next 10 minutes of the class lectured on how students need to respect the teachers and "gently" knock the door instead. But we never refined ourselves. It became an usual practice every day moments before start of the class. Sir used to call Sajal as “Garud Pakkhi” taken from the Ramayan meaning tall but tilted to the front.

But yes the Bengali Class was a class of its own… going by the poems and phrases from the Old Bengali Writers of 20th century made us think of the rich tradition. But alas... the words used in those novels never came back ever in our chalta hai bengali language. Else on the occasion of the Bijaya Dashami every year we were trained in such classes to touch the feet of elders and show our reverence and in return got Anek Anek Ashirbad.

Moving on….. some funny moments in our NCC Classes. The NCC dresses were chosen from the readymade ones and imagine the fittings. The Monda Diya Kada Kada Khaki “half” pants bulged and lay straight and the many gaps made us inconvenient. Hmmm.. The post school NCC drills were torturous but the relief used to come when the sergeant shouted “Singara Asuchi Asuchi ”. Oh HO Ho HO …. We were dying for that….

Other was the mass drill class on last period…. TT and few others could never do it seriously and tried to bunk until Hazari Sir caught them escaping… TT could not "run fast" and he was caught always..... “waiting for a big maada from TT".

Hmmm further are no comments on the gupsups and gossips on school “kid” romances that occasionally used to fly in the air… But some Karamanga Tree Romances seemed real.
Lets see if we have some more on such events...

My journey to DMS - Sandeep Dhawan

How I joined DMS? Most of you have written very well about the school, teachers n batch mates. I will write about my journey to DMS. My father along with his two elder brothers lived in a joint family those days and we were 9 brothers n sisters(5+4) living under the same roof. We all went to St. Joseph's. After 4 years there I along with my cousin Sanjay(also DMS) were sent to Stewart. Somewhere our parents came to know that DMS is a great school that offers a lot of activitie...s besides academics (Debjit's some useful periods wasted). They also came to know that one has to go thru the process of entrance exams to get an admission. My mother n aunt found out that Ms. Benson was a great teacher n that year we missed our annual trip to Delhi instead we spent our summer vacations taking classes from Ms. Benson. Now missing your annual trip visiting cousins was bad enough for 10-11 years old. To top it all we had to study in the summer hols under the strict vigilance of Ms. Benson n she used to give us loads of homework. I n Sanjay couldn't protest to our parents but we would talk to each other n crib. Why are our parents behaving as if they are doing a transferable job smile emoticon ? Why they sent us to St. Joseph's when they knew fully well that after std.3 we will have to change schools? Don't they want us to make permanent friends..etc.

Anyway the efforts of Ms.Benson paid off n here we were in DMS. The facilities here were beyond comparison compared to our previous schools n I made friends for life....Cheers to all my friends.

My memories of D.M.School date back to 1972 - Biswaranjan Jena

My memories of D.M.School date back to 1972 when we joined the KG class ,though some of the memories are faint and foggy. I remember running around the corridors of the primary section along with Pradeep Das and Sajal Mukherjee. Though I never watched the movie Sholay till much later, it is still fresh in my mind that the dialogues were a such a rage that even RCE students used to enact some scene before our classes begun. I remember crying all the way to my home because I had stood second in Class II.

I remember the stylish turnout of Mr. KASSVK Rao in a 'Disco' shirt and the imposing figure of Mr. S S Das walking to the classroom with a rolled periodic table looking like a staff. Pujas at the school were much cherished and students eagerly waitied for the 'Chuda Ghasa'. I remember the First Terminal Maths result in Class V, when all students fared very badly, the highest being 70. Our class giving a tough fight to senior classes in football when in class IX was a great achievement.

I remember the expectancy with which we would wait for the snacks that was served after the NCC class. Mr. PN Mishra along with the students would do their best to get a first prize for the school in the Republic Day Parade. But despite our best efforts, the prize always eluded us. I remember the satisfaction of coming 4th in the 4 km NCC road race, despite never practising for it. The NCC camp at Khandagiri was an experience of a lifetime.
Moving around Bhubaneswar triple seat in a cycle, going all the way to Forest Park, even OUAT, after school hours is still fresh in my mind.

I remember the Kabaddi matches in which we would cheer our class team vociferously. Jayanta Mukherjee performed really well in the music competitions. In the fancy dress competition, Subrat Dwivedi stole the show for his comic acts and mimicry. Annual day function was eagerly awaited due to the plays, particularly the Odia play on the last day.
I remember the divide between the boys and girls in our section, each group trying to be one up on the other. I remember Sambit Mishra for his elegance, Subodh Sarangi for his quiet diligence, Sajal Mukherjee for his passion for cricket and other sport, Pradip Das for his harmless mischief, Pradip Mishra for his fearless candour, PB Vasudevan for his tenacity despite failures in his passion for singing and cricket, Rajesh Das for his friendly nature, Madhulita for her hard work, Ashish Roy and Biswajit Dash for being late bloomers, Saroj Kar for his histrionics in Odia. The list seems endless.

Though my association with students from other sections was limited to a few, our friendship has stood the test of time. I remember Rajesh Srivastava, Minakshi and Sipra for the much needed healthy competition in the class that helped all of us excel academically. Rajesh Chintak got laurels for the school by getting selected for the Republic Day Parade in Delhi. Amiya Ray was single-mindedly working towards excelling in cricket and later became one of the first from the school to represent the state in Ranji Trophy. Shared great comraderie with Tridib, Tariq, Satyakam, Debjit during our NCC days. The excursion to Hyderabad, Ajanta, Ellora was full of hilarious and mischievous incidents which made our bond even stronger. From the C section, I shared good friendship with Sushant and Pradosh Mohanty. Ambuja Chhotray was the one who would come up with atrocious statements intended to trouble the teachers and even some of the classmates who were wary of him despite his small size. Migrank with his flair for the English language and Science subjects kept the flag of the section flying high along with Geeta, Himanshu and Asutosh.

Those years in School shaped and redefined my personality and career - Gautam H. Mahapatra

My memories of D.M. School start from the Asbestos classrooms where we spent one year as Std V students. I remember the way KASSVK Rao used to punish us when we guys couldn’t answer a maths question correctly. Our Headmaster, Late Kishore Chandra Das, never ending stories on his stint in the Army, Hanan Sir’s constant encouragement and making many of us believe that we could be champion sports persons. P.N. Mishra’s English classes, the SUPW classes which were more of a break... than anything else. The teachers whether it was P.N.Panda or B B Nayak or N. Mishra or Sandhya Mohanty or anyone else they were all awe-inspiring.

I remember my good friend Subasis who used to share the first row with me. Debasis Panigrahi for teaching us constantly new monologues in odia and some memorable poems in odia which may be a little embarrassing to pen down. I remember Tridib’s constant smile and confidence, Rajesh Chintak’s suaveness even at that age, Rajesh Srivastav’s & Minakshi Mishra’s high scoring answer-sheets, Som Patnaik’s explanation of adiabatic cooling-as nothing but something very interesting-and Madam Anjali Tripathi’s expression to that answer, Sipra’s enthusiasm, Biswajita’s attitude, K. Shailaja’s athleticism, Mriganka’s intelligence, Amiya Ray’s passion for cricket, Neeta’s quest for excellence, Pusphamitra Das stories, Rupak Roy Choudhury’s conquests, Debjeet Kar’s innocence, Pradeep Sahu’s knowledge on sports, Sankalpa Basu’s perseverance and many of our other batch mates who have left some wonderful memories which I shall cherish for years to come. I was lucky and privileged to be among the most intelligent & smart group in the School. The karamanga trees, the teachers common room in the 1st floor, the Library where I went the least because I was too scared to read all those fat & huge books have given me wonderful memories.

These years in School shaped and redefined my personality and career. I wish I could re-live my good old days in School again & again.

'Proud that my core was cast in the DMS, Bhubanewar - Rajesh Srivastava

"Values" endure, by definition. '1st in Proficiency... Congratulations. A regular late-comer to the class' remains inked in red by the charismatic (late) Miss Benson, our class teacher, on my Class 8th marks-sheet. The uncompromising remarks, if read discretely, speaks volumes of the high standards that the DMS-culture bred into each one of us!

Reading through the straight-from-the-heart recount of our school-days rendered by my classmates of DMS'83 Batch in such as-though-it-w...as-yesterday style has reaffirmed this overwhelming Truth: Be wherever we may, WE-the Batch of DMS'83 deep down in our hearts live, breathe and reminisce our school days like a Common Soul! 

Throughout our schooling years 1977 through 1983, amidst the classes impregnated with countless memories that keep popping up like the evening stars, do-or-die spirited games, drama and music staging annual functions, elaborate 3-day sports functions half a km away in the DMS, RCE Campus, Debate and very seriously taken fancy dress competitions, what bonded us with a common trait was the Unmistakably Identifiable "DMS ETHOS" ! And it has remained so to this date, 30 years later as an inseparable part of our persona, wherever we may be.
 
Mr RC Mahapatra's 3 minutes concentration before the class (with his numbered flock of hairs swaying to the breeze from ceiling fans) as he taught Buddha's eight principles, abrupt slip of my tongue when I addressed Maths Ma'm as "Amma", mispronouncing the new topic mensuration, PA Celinema (Bio Ma'm)'s remark, "Saileja, you have drawn the nucleus as big as the onion itself", Sandhya (Maths and Class Teacher)'s question commencing with"A dishonest shopkeeper...", BB Nayak (English Grammar Sir)'s deep throated "Bird : Chirp", D Sahu (Geography Sir)'s profusely sweating forehead during his energetic full 40-minute lecture, our sneaking into Ms Benson's Beauty Box and getting caught by the exotic perfumes we'd experimented upon, Ms James (English Ma'm)'s curls dangling beside her 'english' cheeks as she lovingly imbibed roots precis writing into me, Locomotive-38, The Apple Tree Pomplex, I could go on endlessly...are our treasure of diamonds from those yonder times !
 
Each teacher of our school, in their unique demeanour have cast permanent impressions in our minds and hearts that we shall fondly remember with reverence for time immemorial.
 
Fact is that even thirty years later in the so-called National Capital and its mushroomed International-labelled schools, I dearly miss providing the DMS level all-round education to my children.
 
Whatever I am today as an IAF officer and whatever I shall be in years to come, I am proud that my core was cast in the DMS, Bhubanewar.
 
Long Live The DMS Fraternity!!

Reasons and reasonings for ending up at DM School - Siddharth Padhi

I present you my own reasons and reasonings for ending up at DM School.
Why DMS? My recollections.

 

Spring, 1977-
A new academic session has just started at Stewart School and I've been promoted to Std V. I joined the school a year back after having been graciously ejected from St Joseph's Convent purely on the grounds of gender bias. Now, standing at the entrance to the school, at the beginning of another endless day, I look around me with a different perspective. If I leave this school behind, how much do I miss?

Apparently, my parents have decided that I needed to change school again. I've heard strands of muted conversation between them and my peer group is suspect. "...a little beyond their age and financial means...", "...bad influence on him (me)...", that sort of thing. At dinner, father had asked whether I was familiar with DM School. "No", I had replied wondering at the abbreviations. Demonstration Multipurpose School I was informed. OK, so the name is impressive but I have my reservations.

Next thing I recall, I'm at a hall in DM School appearing in a written entrance test. That was the easy part. Now we go for viva.

My parents are determined that I should excel in viva. They offer a medley of possible Q & A while I stand gazing vacantly around me. The huge premises and building, endless corridors in so many directions, the school projected a distinct aura of vastness and mystery. One could easily get lost here. How many breaks do they have? Does the new Headmaster wield a cane like Good Ol' Saadiq at Stewart School? [I had once been in that dreaded room but that is another story...].

I snap back to reality. I realise they have been talking to me all this while and I haven't paid the least attention. "So what does your father do"? "He goes to the office". "Which office"? "The Forest Office", I reply confidently. "No, no, that won't do", Father says. "The correct response is -My father is a Government Servant in the Department of Forests." Yeah, right. But if I botch this one up and put the 'servant' part at the incorrect place, any other place, I'll be making a big bloomer. Got to mug this one up - and I start to fret.

We are hustled to the staging area, preparatory to my appearance in the Great Viva. It is being held in that big Teachers' Common Room, which we would be all so familiar with in the years to come. It's waiting time. There is a tight squeeze in the waiting area and an endless hum of subdued conversation. Somebody has spilt water in the middle and
people are intent on making a big mess out of it. Its fascinating to the point of distraction.
Some students look very solemn and sure-to-win studious while others are carelessly wandering about (hither and thither as one of our teachers used to put it - who, I don't remember). Me, I think I'm pretty much neutral. Am I really looking forward to joining this school?

Let's see - firstly, this school is huge with a double huge playground. If a school has a big playground, it must be having a number of games periods. Score 1 in favour. Secondly, the teachers don't seem stuffed and imperious. In fact, they have an easy-going attitude that conveys tolerance and sympathy. Good for the newcomer. Score 2 in favour. On the other hand, I recall Pinching Raju, my maths teacher at Stewart School and shudder at the prospect of attending his classes. Score 1 against SS. Moreover, the Mad House senior guys at SS are a reckless lot and I happen to be in the same House without much to justify good treatment from them. Score 2 against SS. Lastly, DMS is quite close to home. Maybe, my parents would get me that bike (bicycle) this year on this ground. Score 3 in favour.  The real clincher comes as a sudden realisation as I meander absent-mindedly through a morass of thought ranging from my friends at SS and to the final exams at DMS, which would be now due in March next year instead of Dec this year.

And, Whoa! This is it. At DMS we would be having our summer hols after a few days of class (wow- no tension summer) and then the double whammy of delayed Finals, deferred from Dec to March. This, then was the real deal and all I had to do was to perform well in the Viva and get that coveted seat. 

As my name is called out and I enter the Hall, the Government Servant Problem seemed too trifle a matter to dwell on. No problems now, bring on the questions. If I don't know the answer to something, there's always the cute-puppy look to fall back on and all will be well.
DM School, here I come.

 

 

A place, a person and that time

Sipra Pati

This year has been a very eventful year for my family and me - death in the family, job change, child leaving home, selling a home, and moving to a new city. To quote an old English teacher who was explaining Tennyson and his Enoch Arden, “miseries seldom come alone”; only in my case, it was change – and, it had not come alone. So here I am – an empty nester in a rented apartment in a new city starting a new consultancy with the new friend-making situation in limbo. In the midst of navigating my way through these new roles and circumstances, I found myself suddenly thrust into a virtual time machine to travel down the dusty lanes of my history to my childhood and youth, more specifically to my years in DM School – I connected with my classmates from DM School. As about roughly thirty of us reconnected, plans to have a reunion when the school celebrates its Golden Jubilee have been made made; we have walked down our collective memory lane (and are continuing to do so) - recalling our struggles, our adventures and misadventures, our ordeals and the fun, and we are oh so eagerly looking forward to physically reconnect after decades. Not surprisingly my thoughts in the last few weeks have gone to the one man who was a big influence on my life, as I am sure he was on the lives of my fellow DMites - our headmaster, Mr. KC Das.

KC Das – when you think of him, a vivid image of a stocky man in crisp white khadi and leather sandals comes to mind. And, the next thing one remembers about him is how terrified the entire student collective was of him – it was a strange mix of fear, awe, and respect. One didn’t know which was more dreadful – his glare (the intensity of which could put blast furnaces to shame), his steely voice that had the ability to freeze you in your tracks, or his slap. If one was late coming into school or was making a much-needed-middle-of-class trip to the bathroom, he was the one person no student wanted to encounter. We didn’t realize it then, but looking back on those years now, he reminds me of the Kumhar(potter) in Kabir’s doha:

“Guru Kumhar Sikh Kumbh Hai, Gadh Gadh Kadhe Khot

Antar Hath Sahar De, Bahar Bahe Chot”

A very simple translation tells us that Kabir is drawing an analogy between a teacher and a potter. To mold a clay pot (student) the potter pounds the clay pot-in-the-making from the outside with one hand, while the other palm provides support from the inside. It is that support that few of us could see while under Mr. Das’ tutelage. I have two memories of him which I would like to share.

I don’t know how many students had the opportunity to have had Mr. Das, who we fondly (and, of course, behind his back) called Headu, as a teacher. When I was in 9th class, he was also our History teacher. History was always a subject people scorned at and shunned as being boring. And, yet, when he taught us, the past came alive – both the written and the unwritten. His words and demeanor painted the struggles of the early homo sapien so vividly that we could actually visualize the pre-historic humans hunting with stone tools and rejoicing at the discovery of fire (so much so that when I saw the Neanderthal exhibit at the Smithsonian in Washington DC, I exclaimed to my family that the scene was just like Headu had described); that of investiture ceremonies held in medieval courts in Europe (he actually enacted the scene in class), and more. When he narrated the origin of different world religions, he made us think in terms of space (as in place) and time – ‘why did it happen where it did’ and ‘why did it happen when it did’. I think at the age of 14, I never fully captured the significance of the space and time interplay. With a myriad of events unfolding around the world today, it is not difficult to see the manifestation of the two factors of where and when, in addition to ‘the who’. I owe my ability to appreciate the relevance of space and time and my interest in history to Headu (I admit, I do not share the same passion for the subject as Headu). I hear a lot of contemporary writers calling to disregard history because the need for modern India was to go forward. I wonder what Headu would have told them. I for one, would like to tell these writers – how can you go forward when you don’t know where you are coming from? You can’t disregard history or the past. A direction can only be taken from a point of reference. So if you don’t know your history, you don’t have your point of reference, and hence, rendering the direction you yearn to head in, meaningless.

In 1981 the CBSE curriculum required students entering 9th class to choose one SUPW (or Work Experience, as it was known in DM) class for two consecutive academic years – 9th and 10th. Till Class 8, we rotated between the multiple options that our school had to offer. In 9th the girls were told that their only option was Home Science. To say that we were disappointed would be a gross understatement. Some of us were not even remotely interested in learning how to sew inane pieces of clothing when we had more interesting options like Carpentry, Printing, Electric Works, Typing, etc. available. We felt that we were not being afforded the same opportunities as the boys in our class, and it also brought back hurtful memories of our turned-down request in 8th class to play more interesting sports like volley ball, basketball, and badminton (instead of just kabaddi and kho kho) and having the option of joining the National Cadet Corps. This time around we were more determined – we did not want to take Home Science for two consecutive years. So we decided to protest. When it was time to go to the SUPW labs, some of us (most of the girls from my section, and a couple from other sections) did not go to the Home Science Lab. Instead we went to each of the teachers in the other labs, specifically the Carpentry, Electric and Metal Works labs, and asked those teachers if they would like to have us as their students. We were encouraged by their positive replies which came with a collective caveat that they could not teach us till they were directed to do so by the headmaster. None of us had the courage to walk into Headu’s office. So we sat down on the steps that led to the SUPW rooms discussing among ourselves on how to approach Headu. We saw Headu near the school entrance; he turned and looked at us several times, but didn’t come up to us. In the meanwhile several different teachers saw us ‘not in class’ and wanted to know why. SUPW classes were two consecutive periods in one week – and we sat there for two whole periods – 80 minutes. Next week saw us on the steps to the SUPW rooms again. This time we did not have to wait long. Headu walked into the corridor, saw us and returned to his office. Five minutes later a teacher (or perhaps, one of the administrative clerks) walked up to us and asked to go back to our classrooms, and said that by the next week we would be informed which technology classes we could take in lieu of Home Science. Back in our respective classrooms, we wrote down our choice of technology class on a sheet of paper and gave it to our Class teacher. Next week saw some of us in the Carpentry lab and some in the Printing lab. The deep sense of satisfaction and triumph that we collectively felt is beyond articulation. There was, and is, a deep sense of gratitude for this man because he did not ridicule and herd us into something we considered counter-productive to our education, and more importantly, he instituted a change because he saw a need for it being manifested in his strictly monitored corridors. And in his subtle way he let us know that it was okay to ask for change, it was okay to stand apart from the crowd if you believed in something, and that he would not hesitate to bring about such a change. That was Mr. KC Das.

If I could, I would turn back the hands of time and say thank you, Sir, for giving me the ability to believe in myself.

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A journey........from past to present