Dancing Heart

FREDDIE MERCURY' S SCHOOL BANDMATES SPEAK ABOUT HIM

2016-12-03T06:13:00.000-08:00

'Freddie Mercury was a prodigy': Rock star's Panchgani school bandmates remember 'Bucky'

On the Queen frontman's 70th birth anniversary, members of the Hectics recount their early steps in music.

A few years ago, I went to a little restaurant in Pune for lunch. I was waiting for a table when the proprietor and I got talking. Then suddenly, changing the subject, he asked me if I was a Freddie Mercury fan.
“Yes”, I said, slightly surprised by the question.
“I used to play the bass for Freddie Mercury,” he told me, with a small, proud smile.
I looked at this middle-aged Parsi gentleman with an old-fashioned bush shirt, greying hair, and slight Gujarati accent, and I thought I must have heard wrong.
“I used to play the bass for Freddie Mercury,” he repeated, “We played in a band together”.
My first thought was that he must be an eccentric. My confusion must have shown.
“We had a band called the Hectics,” he explained, “It was a long time ago. We were teenagers at the time, in school in Panchgani.”
His name, he said, was Farang Irani. He then proceeded to tell me the extraordinary story of Freddie’s very first band, formed 10 years before Queen.
Since then, I have managed to track down other members of the Hectics, as well as other members of Freddie’s old school gang, and put together their memories of what he was like when he was just a shy 12-year-old prodigy, starting his musical career in the little hill station of Panchgani in Maharashtra, where he was a student at St Peter’s school. At that time, he was known as Farrokh Bulsara.
So this is the story of Freddie Mercury’s talent, how it was born, and how it grew in those early, adolescent years. It’s a story that not many people know of, at least partly because of Freddie’s reluctance to talk about his past.
So tell me about the Hectics. What’s the story behind the band?
Victory Rana: Everybody now assumes that the band was started by Freddie. But it was actually Bruce Murray’s idea. He [Freddie] was the lead singer, guitarist, and the star of the show. The other members were Derrick Branche, who played the guitar; Freddie, who played the piano; Farang Irani, who played the bass; and I was the drummer. We were about 12 years old at the time.
Bruce Murray: Actually, we started the band mainly to impress the girls. We certainly were not musicians. Yes, Freddie was a great musician, but the rest of us just made a lot of noise. I had a guitar, which my mum had bought me. We had a drum that our music teacher helped us buy. We took an old tea chest and added a string to it and turned it into a bass. And we had the ancient school piano, which Freddie used to play. That was it. But I guess we achieved our objective, because the girls really loved us!
Gita Choksi: Yes, the girls absolutely adored the Hectics. For us they were like the Rolling Stones and Beatles and Aerosmith, all rolled into one.
Farang Irani: The Hectics became quite famous in Panchgani. All the school kids in town used to flock to our concerts, especially the girls. But the main reason for our success was Freddie. He was the only real musician among us.

Jer Bulsara with her son Farrokh, who the world knows as Freddie Mercury.

What kind of music did the Hectics play? Who were the musicians that inspired you?
Bruce Murray: We were into Elvis Presley, Cliff Richards and Little Richard. Also, other popular musicians of the ’50s, like Fats Domino, Ricky Nelson and Fabian. We did numbers like Yakkety Yak, Ramona, Girl of My Best Friend, Rock Around the Clock, and Tutti Frutti. We wore tight trousers, thin string ties, pointy shoes and Brylcreemed hair with big ‘puffs’, like our idols, Elvis and Cliff Richards. We really thought we were hot stuff.
Victory Rana: By the way, I’ve heard stories that Freddie was inspired by Bollywood music, and Lata Mangeshkar, but that is a lot of rubbish. The only music he listened to, and played, was Western pop music.
Freddie Mercury is considered to be one of the greatest rock musicians of all time. But how good a musician was he back then?
Bruce Murray: He was a prodigy. He could play anything! He had the unique ability to listen to a song on the radio, just once, and be able to play it perfectly. Our favourite programme was the Binaca Hit Parade, which was broadcast every Wednesday, if I remember correctly. If we heard a new song and liked it, Freddie would quickly learn the chords, and I would scribble down the words. And it would be the Hectics’ next hit number. Simple!
Victory Rana: Freddie was hugely talented. He was a natural musician. And he had an amazing voice. He could sing anything – from rock ’n’ roll to classical music. For example, apart from the Hectics, he was also part of a Western classical music group at school, where three boys would sing in three different keys. And that is probably one of the reasons for the eclectic sound he created for Queen in later years. By the way, his voice never changed over the years. If you listen to a Freddie Mercury CD, it sounds just like the young Freddie did back then, singing for the Hectics in Panchgani.
Farang Irani: He was born with the gift. Even as a toddler I believe he loved to sing at family get-togethers and parties – and he loved all the attention it got him. That is something that never changed as he grew up.
I believe his nickname as a kid was Bucky, because of his buck teeth. Was he very sensitive about that?
Farang Irani: Yes, you know how cruel school kids can be. He was very conscious of his protruding teeth. He used to keep trying to cover them with his upper lip, and when he laughed he had the habit of covering his mouth with his hand. Later on in life he grew a moustache, probably to try and cover his teeth. His real name, of course, was Farrokh. But when we first started calling him Bucky, I remember he started calling himself Freddie to try and divert us. But the name Bucky stuck – at least as long as he was in school.
Subash Shah: Yes, looking back, I’m sure he must have been very sensitive about it. But he took it in his stride. He never made an issue of it, or fought back.
Gita Choksi: You know, we old friends still call him Bucky after all these years. For us it’s just a term of affection.
Tell me more about Freddie Mercury, what sticks in your memory about him as a kid?
Victory Rana: He was very much of a loner. Happiest when he was playing the piano, or in the art school. But he was also a good sportsman – hockey, athletics, boxing….
Bruce Murray: I remember a boxing match where Freddie was really getting hammered in the ring, and we all kept telling him to concede the fight. But, no. Freddie insisted on fighting on till the end, with blood all over his face. He could be very tenacious.
Gita Choksi: When Freddie was small he was a very good all-round student. In fact, when he was about 12, he won the school’s best all-rounder prize, and got a double promotion. But after that, unfortunately, his studies went completely downhill.

Farang Irani: He was an introvert, but he could also be quite a clown when he wanted to, like Jerry Lewis, the famous comedian of those days. He used to collect stamps, and had a very rare collection. It would probably be quite priceless today. He was also very fond of cycling and we used to cycle from Panchgani to Mahableshwar and back – about 20 km – just for fun.
Was there any music teacher who played an important role in developing his talent as a child?
Farang Irani: Freddie started out by singing in the school choir. One of the teachers spotted his talent and suggested to his parents that he should take special music classes to develop that talent.
Victory Rana: We had various music teachers over the years, but the one Freddie really admired was a lady called Mrs Jay, who played wonderful jazz. Freddie used to love to sit and listen to her play.
Gita Choksi: Yes, there were various music teachers. But the one who taught Freddie the piano was an Irish lady called Mrs O’Shea. She understood his very special talent, and tried to nurture it. He was the apple of her eye.
Bruce Murray: Yes, she doted on Freddie, and tried to encourage him to play classical music. But Freddie just wanted to play rock ’n’ roll. Finally she gave up and let him do what he wanted. Freddie was born with that very special gift and, boy did he make use of it!
So the school encouraged the Hectics in their musical aspirations?
Victory Rana: No, no. Quite the opposite! The school was very strict, and traditional. They hated the kind of music we played, and the kind of look that we had to go with it – our Elvis Presley hairstyles and tight trousers. They used to refer to the band as “the Heretics”. They discouraged us from even listening to that kind of music, let alone playing it. We didn’t even have a radio to listen to pop music, for example, so we used to sneak into the teachers’ common room and listen to Radio Ceylon. And we used to play in secret, stealing time out from our very tight school schedule. But when we started playing at school fetes and things, and the staff saw how popular we were, they relented, rather grudgingly. Also, I think the fact that we helped raise money for the school with our concerts may have helped!

Tell me more about the Hectics’ concerts….
Farang Irani: We played mainly at school functions, socials and fetes. We had quite a fan following, especially among the girls. They used to come to our shows and scream hysterically, as if we were the Beatles or something.
Gita Choksi: I remember the time they took their little guitars and turned them into electric guitars with the help of a school teacher and an enterprising electrician. We were thrilled at their whole new sound at the next concert.
Bruce Murray: We were lucky that the school let us play our music. From the racket we made we should have probably been sent to prison.
Freddie Mercury is considered to have been one of the most flamboyant showmen in rock ’n’ roll history. Were there any early signs of that in his performances with the Hectics?
Victory Rana: Freddie was very shy, but once he started playing his piano, he became a completely different person. But I don’t remember him as being any kind of showman – not at that age, anyway.
Gita Choksi: The real showman of the Hectics was actually Bruce Murray. Freddie was a great musician, but he was very much of an introvert.
Subash Shah: Yes, Freddie was very shy. But he was also “a born show-off”, and his entire personality would transform once he was performing. To give you one example: one evening, as teenagers, we were walking on a beach in Zanzibar. Music was playing and Freddie spontaneously started to do the twist, the popular dance move of the time. It was such a mesmerising performance that the next thing we knew was that a group of conservative local girls, wearing burqas, had formed a circle around Freddie and began to twist with him. That was the power of his showmanship, even back then.
Farang Irani: From what I’ve heard, that’s how Freddie remained all his life: a great showman on stage, but very shy in real life. A kind of dual personality.
Freddie Mercury was considered not just a great musician, but also a great songwriter. Did he write any songs in school? Or poetry?
Farang Irani: No, but he was very good at art. He was the great favourite of our art teacher, Mrs Blossom Smith. If he hadn’t become a rock musician, I think he would have grown up to be a successful artist or fashion designer.
Bruce Murray: Yes, he was always very artistic. When he first came to England he went to art school and, boy, he could really paint. I still remember the wonderful sketches he used to show me. In those days he seemed to be more proud of his art exam certificate than his music.
Did he display any signs of future greatness back then? Any indications of the shape of things to come?
Victory Rana: To be quite frank, no. Yes, Freddie had a lot of talent, and he was very passionate about his piano playing. But who could say, based on that, that he’d grow up to be the megastar that he became?
Farang Irani: His parents were good solid middle-class Parsis with middle-class values. His father was an accountant in Zanzibar, and he wanted Freddie to become an accountant or a lawyer.
Bruce Murray: If only I knew how big he would become, I would have applied for the post of his manager.
Subash Shah: Our teachers would have summed up Freddie by saying he had potential but should try harder. How wrong they would have been!
By the way, there’s a legend floating around that after St Peters, Freddie Mercury was put into Cathedral School in Mumbai (then Bombay) – which is interesting because it means he’d have been a classmate of Salman Rushdie, whose novel, The Ground Beneath Her Feet, features an Indian rock idol named Ormuz Cama, obviously based on Freddie. Is this legend true?
Gita Choksi: That’s a great story, but it’s definitely not true.
Subash Shah: After Panchgani, Freddie went to school in Zanzibar for a couple of years. And then there was a revolution in Zanzibar, and Freddie’s family migrated to England.
So what did the other members of the Hectics go on to do in life?
Victory Rana: I did something very different from Freddie: I joined the Nepalese Army, trained at Sandhurst, and finally retired as a Major General. I was posted with the UN Peacekeeping Force in Lebanon and Cyprus at various points in my career. My last assignment was as the Nepalese ambassador to Myanmar.
Farang Irani: My family ran a well-known Irani restaurant in Bombay called Ideal, in the Fort area, so after school I joined the family business. I later moved to Pune and started a restaurant called Bounty Sizzlers, which I currently run. [Note: Farang Irani has since passed away.]
Bruce Murray: After school, I came to England and worked at various dead-end jobs, but I also played in various bands part-time. Then I got married, and that put an end to any ambitions of becoming a famous rock star – though I still continued to play in various bands. About 30 years ago I opened a music store called The Music Centre in Bedford. My son now has a band of his own called the Quireboys, which has had a couple of hits over the years, and I help manage the band.
And what about the fifth member of the Hectics, Derrick Branche? What did he go on to do?
Bruce Murray: Derrick also migrated to England in the mid-’60s, and became an actor. He acted in lots of popular TV serials, including The Jewel in the Crown, and also in films like My Beautiful Laundrette. He now lives in Goa, but he’s become a recluse. We’ve tried to get in touch with him, but that’s like trying to fly to the moon.

Freddie Mercury with Mary Austin, his one-time girlfriend and long-time close friend.

Did you ever meet up with Freddie Mercury in later years? Had he changed a lot? Or was he still the same Freddie inside, despite everything?
Bruce Murray: I used to meet up with Freddie quite often in London, even after he had become famous. I remember, he once asked me for dinner with Elton John. But then he was a busy guy, touring the world and all that, and I didn’t want to impose myself, so we drifted apart. The last time I saw Freddie was in Las Vegas, in the late ’70s. I heard him playing at one of the casinos, and I went backstage to see him. He said, “Hey, what the f**k are you doing here?" and he seemed genuinely pleased to see me. So we chatted for a while, and then he was gone. Our lives had changed. I never saw him again.

The rockstar Freddie Mercury, lead singer of the rock group Queen, during a concert in Paris, France, in September 1984. (Photo credit: AFP/Jean-Claude Coutausse).

Gita Choksi: Well, Derrick Branche had a rather different experience. He went to see one of Freddie’s concerts in England, and after the show he went backstage to say hello. But Freddie apparently looked right through him. Maybe that was part of his thing of not wanting to let out the fact of his Indian origins, because he thought it would hurt his career.
Subash Shah: It’s strange, I had heard about the famous Freddie Mercury, but I had absolutely no idea that he was my childhood buddy, Freddie Bulsara. I didn’t find out about that until long after he was dead. And that’s the case with many of our school friends. We had absolutely no idea that he was Freddy Mercury!
Victory Rana: Yes, that’s true. After school I lost track of Freddie. And given the very different kind of life that I led in the army, I’d never even heard of Freddie Mercury. It was only after he died, in 1991, that someone sent me a magazine cutting about Freddie, which happened to mention my name as one of the Hectics. It was only then that I learned his whole story. I went out and bought a couple of Freddie Mercury CDs, I remember. I could hardly recognise the face on the cover, but the voice sounded exactly like the Freddie I knew from our Hectics days.
We now know that Freddie Mercury was gay – something that he himself apparently didn’t know for sure till he was in his 30s. But did anyone have any inkling of it back then?
Gita Choksi: His old art teacher, Mrs Blossom Smith – who was especially fond of him, by the way – always thought he was slightly effeminate. But she thought it was part and parcel of his artistic temperament.
Farang Irani: You might say he seemed a bit of a sissy, and in school plays he often played the women’s roles. He also had a habit of calling the boys darling, which was slightly shocking back then. But those were very different times, and there were many things we didn’t understand back then.
Note: I finally managed to track down the fifth, reclusive, member of the Hectics, Derek Branche, who now lives quietly in Goa. When I sent him a message through mutual friends, saying I wanted very much to meet him, I got a cryptic message back, saying: “Freddie was a lovely man. Highly talented, fun-loving and a good friend. But I don’t like to talk about anybody, dead or aliv

Freddie Bulsara left St Peter’s (and the Hectics) in 1962. Two years later, he migrated with his family to England, where he did a diploma in graphic design. Then, after having played with bands like Ibex and Sour Milk Sea, he finally joined a band called Smile, and persuaded them to change their name to Queen, and give themselves a makeover. By then he had already officially changed his last name to Mercury – after his ruling planet.
The rest, as they say, is history.

THE HISTORY OF ST. JOSEPH’S CHURCH, PANCHGANI

2016-10-11T22:31:00.000-07:00

This article has been written by Megan DeSouza of Eco Camp.

St. Joseph’s Church, Panchgani, small as it is, has come a long way since 1872, when the “Goanese” of Panchgani, tired of travelling to Mahabaleshwar, or having to wait for the priest to come all the way from there for Sunday services, got together to erect a hut to worship in. The Catholics of Panchgani worshipped under the grass roof of this hut until 1873, when the first chapel was built on the same site where Old Church Bakery stands today. In 1886, the parish of Panchgani passed over from the Goa administration to the Poona Diocese.

In 1888, Bishop Bieder-Linden purchased “the HILL”- plot no. 65, for Rs.7000. Following that, a new chapel was completed in 1890 and still exists today as the aforementioned Old Church Bakery. It was erected by public subscription, costing Rs. 1800 and was opened for services by Bishop Bieder- Linden, S.J.D.D. of Poona. The chapel measured 26 X 13 feet and had a capacity of around 50 persons.

Between 1876 and 1892, the parish priest lived in a room adjoining the chapel. Three years later, in 1895,the Jesuits took charge and the first priest’s house was built during the time of Fr.Franken. A room was added to the side of the sanctuary of the chapel to accommodate the newly arrived Daughters of the Cross, (Les Filles de la Croix). This helped the sisters settle in as they first set up their school in “Silver Oaks”, a travellers bungalow owned by Mr.Higgins, the present site of Vidya Niketan School.

In 1898, Bishop Bieder- Linden bought the villa Frankville from Mr. Plunkett and later plots no. 60 and 66 in 1903 for Rs.8000. Plots no. 60 and 66 were together called the Ferns-Humphrey plot. In 1904, plot no. 66 was sold to the F.C. nuns and many years later in 1958, Bishop Andrew sold them plot no. 60- Cliffdell.

From 1898 to 1919, the Panchgani priest lived in a three room house on the same site as the chapel. In 1918, the chapel ( today’s Bakery) was made into a guesthouse. Panchgani was growing in popularity as a Hill Station and the Catholic population increased. The present bungalow for the priest was in the process of being built in the meanwhile and was completed in 1920 for Rs. 4000 by Fr. D.G. Almeida. In 1919, the old presbytery was demolished.

Life in those days was hard . There was limited transport, no electricity, sicknesses and war crises. Inspite of all this, St. Joseph’s Church Panchgani as it stands today on plot no 65, had a grand celebration on the occasion of the laying of its foundation stone on May 19^th 1913, also in connection with the Golden Jubilee of its parish priest, Rev. Fr. Durach who completed 50 years as a priest in October 1912. Fr. Durach after serving the small church at Panchgani for 17years, died at the altar after the first consecration on October 1^st 1917.

The first mass was celebrated in St. Joseph’s Church Panchgani on October 19, 1913 by the Right Reverend Doering S.J. The edifice with a Gothic appearance was built close to the Convent and the former Chapel. It measured 65 X 31 feet, had a covered entrance, a sacristy and a corresponding room on the other side of the Sanctuary. A 45 foot tall tower was built above the sacristy in 1915 which collapsed the following year during the monsoon. Poor quality building materials during war time coupled with torrential rains was the most likely cause. The building of the church and its tower costed Rs. 14, 242. It was dedicated to St. Joseph, patron of the Universal Church.

The prayer at the laying of the foundation stone was that almighty God pour his abundant blessings and extend his protecting hand over this new church forever. More than a hundred years later, God is still faithful to fulfilling the words of this prayer of the parishioners of St.Joseph’s Church Panchgani.

MY JOURNEY TO THE ‘I LOVE PANCHGANI FESTIVAL’

2016-03-10T23:02:00.002-08:00

This piece is written by Mr. Amin Hajee, a well known film personality who has settled in Panchgani. He was the inspiration behind the recently concluded Panchgani Festival

Hi, I’m Amin Hajee, I live in Panchgani with my wife Charlotte and our twin daughters Summer and Sky. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been a survivor. In the process I’ve become a professional dancer, a model, an assistant director, an actor, a script writer and a documentary film maker. Now I’m waiting to direct my first feature film that I’ve written called Koi Jaane Naa. It was sometime in November 2015 while I was waiting for a call from my Producer to start shooting my dream film Koi Jaane Naa when Shahram, (a friend of mine), forwarded a letter to me on my mobile. It said, “Let’s do something for Panchgani.” It was written by the Trustee of Nachiket school Mr. Sudhir Parthe, and was addressed to all the Schools and Hotels. There was a meeting scheduled to happen and then I realised that the meeting was already in progress. The letter excited me and so I gate crashed into the meeting at St. Peter’s School and introduced myself. I simply said, I wish to do something for Panchgani too and I was accepted by the Residents, Principals and Hotel owners present. From the discussions in that meeting I realised that Panchgani had lost its relevance as an Educational hub, and tourist wise was in the shadow of the more popular Mahabaleshwar and therefore needed an identity of its own.

I thought about their agenda and concluded that Panchgani would need to reinvent itself. I proposed that we start with a clean up drive in our lovely town first. The idea was accepted by most present but some people felt that this would not solve the problem, as their agenda was to put Panchgani on the map. I argued that a clean town is a start to reinventing ourselves, as it sends out a message to all tourists and locals to toe the line and keep Panchgani clean and green. It would help create an overall better image. Everyone agreed... Even schools came out with all their students and many locals joined in too. Our first clean up drive was a huge success, a heap of 40 bulky bags of garbage was collected.

Before we moved to Panchgani I lived in Bandra and have been inspired by the Celebrate Bandra and Kala Ghoda Festival. I had an idea and I bounced it off my wife Charlotte, “Why don’t we create a similar festival here in Panchgani?” Charlotte thought it was a great idea and I wrote a little piece and read it out to all present in the next meeting. “A community is formed by thinking together, existing together and then celebrating together! Why don’t we Celebrate Panchgani?” The idea excited everyone and that inspired me to think of a name for it. Valentine’s Day was a couple of months away and the already world famous ‘I love NY’ logo, and it's simple line grabbed my attention, I thought to myself why don’t we simply say, ‘I love Panchgani’ and have our festival coincide with Valentine’s Day which was coincidently falling on a weekend. It could be the best time to have it. That idea was accepted by the rest of the people present. That was it... now we had a goal, we had found a solution to our problem! Our motive was clear, Panchgani would carve its own identity; everyone would say ‘I Love Panchgani!”

We formed a core team and started to meet up at St. Peter’s regularly. My partner in this endeavour was Mr. Sudhir Parthe, the man behind that letter that had got everyone thinking. We were supported by The Principal of St. Peters – Mr. Brian Robbins, Trustee Mr. Lazarus Ewart, Ms. Shoma

Sarkar and Ms. Sabita Vinod from New Era School, Mr. Irshad Khan from AnjumanIslam, Dr. Sunny Matthews from God’s Valley, Hotel owners Mr. Aly Abid (Malas) and Mr. Shahram Javanmardi (Prospect), Rotary President Jayawant Bhilare, Vice President Mr. Niteen Bhilare, Ex. President Mr. Sunil Kamble, Mr. Mahindra Sawant (Panchgani Sports Asso.), Mr. Mayur Vora (Mapro) and Ms. Dipali Parmar (theatre enthusiast), all joined hands with us.. Mr. Brian and Mr. Lazarus shifted the St. Peter’s marathon and ex. Student’s meet to match it with the festival’s dates. Ex. St. Peter’s student Mr. Mayur Vora was excited about the I Love Panchgani Festival and he immediately shifted his already popular Mapro’s Strawberry Festival to match the same dates as our festival and joined the team. We also requested Mr. Zoher Unwalla (Unwallas) and Bharat Purohit (Namaste Purohit) to join the core team.

The idea was simple; get two members of each association, the Schools Association, Shop Keepers Association, Hotels Association, Residents Association and Taxi Association. Luckily as we spread the word to local friends, Ajay Bora informed me about an already existing Facebook page coincidently named I Love Panchgani. It was a sign. We were not alone in this endeavour; a lot of other Panchganites were already a part of this thought. Ajay took me along and introduced me to Nihal Bhagwan, the founder and executor of the site. He was so happy to hear about the festival that he not only agreed to be a part of the team, but also share his five thousand followers and his webpage. It was December and like they say, ‘A time for miracles!’ and we were being blessed with miracles one after another. The Paragliders Association were having their annual competition from the 1st to the 6th of February, about which local resident and active para glider Andre informed us. We felt it would be great if the competition could coincide on the same dates of our festival. Voila! I got a call from Andre’s wife Megan. They had spoken with Manoj from the Paragliders Association and he had confirmed their change of dates to coincide with the 12th 13th & 14th of February. Inspired, I was giving presentation after presentation to individual schools like New Era and Kimmins. Both principals’ Ms. Suniti Javanmardi and Ms. Ella Augustine were excited and were ready to extend their full cooperation but it was painfully slow and we were not getting anywhere close to gathering thirty schools together and the momentum we needed. We required all the schools on board, but each school had its own issues and challenges. Luckily, Charlotte and I met the owners of Ravine Hotel Bismillah and Javed and told them about our festival plans. They were very excited and gave us an idea. “We will host a dinner at Ravine Hotel and you can invite all the Principals and Trustees together one evening and give them a presentation.” Wow! That was it, so Sudhir, my partner in crime and I went to every school and invited the Principal and Trustees for the dinner. By now Charlotte had designed a small brochure about the I Love Panchgani Festival that we took along to distribute to all the school Principals. We even invited the Director of the prestigious I.O.C. (Initiatives of Change) Mr. Rao for the gala dinner. As the evening grew closer we were both nervous and excited. We were pleasantly surprised that representatives of nearly twenty schools came for the Dinner and loved the presentation. Suresh Bhiramne of Vidya Niketan took the responsibility of rekindling the Panchgani Schools’ Association. Within a few days Aly and Shahram got all the Hotel owners together and we gave them a presentation too. Even the Hoteliers loved the idea... I was elated and remembered Majrooh Sultanpuri’s sher: “Main akela hi chaJa tha, Jaanibmanzil magar,

Log saath aate gaye aur karwaan banta gaya!”

Charlotte and I started work on the logo design of the festival and we needed an appropriate copy line too. After working on the logo for nearly six weeks we finally got it right and also found our motto, ‘Celebrating Community and Creativity’. That was the true motive and spirit of the festival and everyone felt that it said it all. While we continued to have meetings and discussions with the team we realised that now the Team had found its rhythm and had bonded well. The PSA (Panchgani Schools’ Association) had been revived too and was backing the Team to the fullest. As luck would have it I received a call from my Producer. The call that I was waiting for It was time for us to move onto our next project, my film Koi Jaane Naa. The Team went ahead and did a great job in executing the festival and the Community came and joined the Celebrations. Sudhir and the team got fifteen schools together and executed the variety entertainment programme fabulously as each school put up acts that spoke about unity, environment, celebrating community and creativity. The Mayor Laxmi Karadkar and Local MLA Makrand Abha were present and spoke highly of the event. Local cyclists Nihal, Arshad, Meherzaad etc. led the cyclists all around Panchgani Sudhir and Mahindra organised and executed the interschool cricket and football matches. Aly put up a fabulous Yoga session at Malas at his hotel lawns and Javed held the first interschool Tennis Tournament at his hotel Ravine. The Shop keepers association led by Nihal and Bharat organised a walking plaza and presented an entertainment show with professionals walking on stilts. A local singer Tushar entertained the locals and tourists in the market square. St. Peter’s executed the Panchgani Marathon flawlessly. The I Love Panchgani festival team rocked that weekend and both Charlotte and I were very proud to have been a part of this journey and the I Love Panchgani Festival.

I end with this famous quote:

“Kaun keheta hai ki aasmaan mein suraakh ho nahi sakta?

Ek patthar toh tabiyat se uchalo yaaron... “

THE LESSONS AND LADS OF ST. PETER'S IN PANCHGANI

2016-03-07T07:17:00.001-08:00

This article is by Anvar Mooraj, a veteran Pakistani journalist who studied in St. Peter's, Panchgani on the early 1940's. It was published in "Dawn" on 6th March 2016.

St Peter’s was located in Panchgani, a hill station tucked away in western India. In spring and summer, the place was bathed in soft focus sunlight, the fields buzzed with dragon flies and swarms of butterflies; and during the long twilight, the gulmohar and jamun turned a golden brown.

In the monsoon, the place was hosed down by torrential rains, and there were years when we never saw the sun for three months at a stretch.

When I first joined that missionary boarding school at the age of eight, in the early war years, it was known as the European Boys High School (EBHS).

The EBHS could trace its origin to the Kimmins Girls School from where a clutch of boys were plucked and placed in another building by Stanley Heywood, the Bishop of Mombasa, probably because one of the larky lads had been exposing himself!

Years later, when an Assembly had been created it was inaugurated by Sir John Clark, the governor of Bombay. In subsequent years, the other senior members of the clergy dropping in and out of the place, inevitably, the name of the school was changed to St Peter’s.

Legend has it that the word Panchgani was derived from Marathi and meant five villages. Actually there were five tablelands or plateau.

Tableland One which housed the cricket, hockey and football pitches of all schools lay separated from Tableland Two by Tiger’s Leap, named after a remarkable striped cat that was supposed to have leapt 80 yards across the yawning divide in a single spring.

Besides St Peter’s there were three other boarding schools for boys — Billamoria for Parsis, Anjuman for Muslims and Sanjeevan Vidyalaya for Hindus.

Girls of the Protestant persuasion went to Kimmins and those who practiced Catholicism were sent to St Joseph’s Convent School.

At St Peter’s we were always hungry, because the portions served at meals were very small. The food wasn’t all that bad. We got used to bajara andjawar, because all available wheat was sent to the Royal Indian Army.

However, the moment we were sent the odd fiver from home, we sneaked off to the Lucky Restaurant* which was out of bounds and bought a qeema-chapatti or an omelette-chapatti for four annas.

All food parcels were first examined by Ma Hoyle the stentorian matron. Whenever a parcel of two dozen Alfonso mangoes arrived for a student, he would receive only four pieces of fruit, after the teachers had been licking their fingers and smacking their lips for three days. Ma Hoyle would call the student, strike an attitude, look awfully crestfallen and say, “Sorry Sonny, the rest have all gone bad”.

One of the Iraqi students from Basra told the poor chap later, “Next time, ask Mummy to send you a baby cobra and mark the box Fresh Pineapples from Aunt Elizabeth”.

We received six annas pocket money a week with which we bought stickjaw (made from jaggery and peanuts) or sweetened condensed milk from the school tuck shop run by Garika***, a lower order tyrant with a short fuse.

In my very first year, a boy accosted me and some other boys outside the tuck shop and took away what we had bought. An older boy Rex Lynn who became a leading boxer in St Peter’s and later played hockey for England, had witnessed the larceny and told me later that as I had rather long arms and was quite tall, I should hit the bully hard on the nose with a left hook, the next time he came near.

So the following month when the bully came to collect his taxes, I let him have it with both fists and something snapped inside his nose. The assault was witnessed by Lynn and Peter Scut who later joined the Royal Navy. Lynn then turned to the bully and said, “Just remember our code. We never snitch on a fellow student to the teachers.” The bully with blood on his shirt broke into a fit of sobs and later told the compounder in the sick bay that he had tripped over a hockey ball and banged his nose on one of the walls of the gymnasium. After that he avoided the tuck shop like the plague.

Every student was addressed by his surname and all teachers as Sir. But they had nicknames — Mr Sackett became Sacky, Mr Llewellyn became Lanky, Mr Davis became Davy and Mr White** became Chalky.

We had no nicknames for Mr Schwarzenberger who taught French and Mr Deshpande who taught drawing and painting, both of whom shared the record for bending students’ ears. The latter complained to the principal Rev F.W Mckeown that I had been insolent, so I was baptised with three whacks on my buttocks with a cane made from the best Malaysian Malacca, and I kept a stiff upper lip throughout the punishment.

I still liked Rev McKeown. He was upright, always fair and just. What he taught us — was fair play, to always stand up for the underdog and not to hit a person when he was down. But above all, he taught us to be decent human beings. Our motto was Ut Prosim (That I may serve).

When he left the school in 1945 to go back to the United Kingdom, many of the boys cried. Fortunately … his legacy survived.

Almost every boarding school has had a tragedy or two. Willis, who went on a picnic to Mahableshwar had an epileptic fit in the middle of the lake and clutching the oarsman took him down to the bottom.

Chalky’s two Alsatians were badly mauled one evening by a marauding black panther while they were defending his young son, before Chalky brought out his loaded double-barrelled shot gun and blasted the marauder as he tried to flee.

Tragedy descended once again on Mr White’s family when the same boy died of pneumonia. There was a light drizzle in the cemetery as we shivered in our sou’westers, mackintoshes and gumboots; and as the little coffin was lowered into the grave and we all sang the hymn, Abide With Me there wasn’t a dry eye in the graveyard.

There were some interesting characters at St Peter’s. George, who managed the sick bay deserted his wife and seven children and eloped with the wife of a Bombay film producer.

Mohammed Ali Sonawalla was the fastest mammal on two legs in the school and won every race for the seniors until 1945 when Raja Ram Nimbalker carried away the trophy by sprinting 99.4 metres in 10.3/5 seconds.

Henry Fagin manufactured crude pistols from old pipes and shot crows.

Silva Carlos Antonio Fernando Costelliano Hugo of Santiago, Chile won the school singing competition with the Neapolitan Folk Song O Sole Mio. Peter Scutt joined the Royal Navy.

We also had a few fruitcakes. Joseph Joseph Joseph, a full-blooded American Ashkenazi, who was referred to as Joseph Cubed, once got hold of Talal Asad, son of Muhammad Asad, author of The Road to Mecca and Islam at the Crossroads, because he was an Austrian and the author of this article, because his mother was a Prussian from the wrong side of the Polish Corridor, and accused the two of us of sending secret plans to Rommel. Wilmott, a toffee-nosed twit added, “Yea, Sears even shot down the carrier pigeon you were using.”

We went to church every Sunday once in the morning and once in the evening. The boys occupied the aisle on the right and the girls the one on the left. Brothers and sisters met for 15 minutes outside the place of worship and acted principally as a courier exchange service between love-sick teenagers.

One dark night when the moon was given speed by flying scarves of white cloud, a great love story was in the making. But, I’ll keep that for next time.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, March 6th, 2016

* This Lucky Restaurant was opposite the present Apsara Restaurant. It was owned by a Malayali Muslim, popularly called Kaka. It was later taken over by Mamoo Kaka, who renamed it New Panchgani Restaurant, which became Apsara Restaurant when it was shifted to the present premises.

** This is not Mr. Desmond White the science teacher who came a few later.
*** This is not Garika, but Gadekar. Mr. T. B.Gadekar, who had the Pacific Stores, the second biggest shop in Panchgani, after Panchgani Stores.(See "Some Old Shops in Panchgani)

PANCHGANI FESTIVAL

2015-12-17T03:33:00.000-08:00

ALTERNATE ROUTES TO PANCHGANI & MAHABALESHWAR

2015-04-12T00:27:00.001-07:00

Most of the vehicles coming to Panchgani And Mahabaleshwar are from Mumbai or Pune. The cars from Mumbai mainly come via Pune because almost the entire route is dual carriage-way, making for a comfortable drive. At Surur, the vehicles leave the National Highway no. 4 and come along the State Highway towards Wai, Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar. This is a single road and during peak traffic, the cars are practically bumper to bumper. It is difficult for pedestrians to even cross the road. In Wai, this traffic makes it difficult for the locals to even park their cars if they want to go into a shop. Life in this town is being disrupted by vehicles which have no connection with it. The traffic now moves up the Pasarni ghat to Panchgani. There is a continuous stream of vehicles moving both ways.

Every year, more cars come on this route. During this Diwali season, the line of cars, stopped for entry tax to Panchgani stretched almost to Harrison’s Folly. The Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar hills are the most beautiful parts of Maharashtra, but visiting them is no longer a pleasant experience.

On entering Panchgani, one realises that it is practically impossible to stop anywhere in the bazaar. Most of the cars are on their way to Mahabaleshwar. For them, Panchgani is just another hurdle to cross before they reach their destination. Finding a place to park in the bazaar is next to impossible. Locals have difficulty crossing the road, though usually traffic jams come to the rescue, and one is able to cross comfortably.

Each year, the traffic is increasing. Merely diverting traffic in Panchgani via Chesson road is not the solution. Alternate routes to Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar have to be developed and publicised. There are some such routes already existing. All that is required is publicity in the form of signboards and write-ups in newspapers.

On the route to Mahabaleshwar from the Pune side, there is one such alternative already existing. For this, we do not turn right at Surur, but go straight for about 10 Km. till Panchwad. Here, you turn right towards Kudal. Turning left, one goes up and down a mini ghat to Medha, and turn right to go on to Mahabaleshwar. This route is 15 Km. longer, but is much more pleasant. The route needs to be properly marked, and the road probably needs widening.

From the top of the mini ghat, a road has recently been constructed right up to Bhilar. This could be a good route for property holders in Bhilar, Kaswand, etc. In fact it could be useful even for those who are staying on the Panchgani Mahabaleshwar road.

Visitors coming from the Kolhapur side are probably familiar with the Medha road to Mahabaleshwar, but proper signboards at the various turnoffs would make a big difference. One could also use this route upto Medha, then up the mini ghat and on to Bhilar, to approach Panchgani from the West.

Just before Mahabaleshwar coming up from Medha, there is a road to the right. The signboard says ‘Bhekavli’, but this road goes past the Lingmala falls to meet the Panchgani-Mahabaleshwar road. This is also a neglected route which is ideal for those staying on the Panchgani-Mahabaleshwar section.

Some serious efforts are needed so that visitors and locals can move about comfortably in Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar.

The road to Tableland needs attention. With so many cars and big buses going up and down this narrow road, there is a big tragedy waiting to happen. Especially on the stretch just before Tableland, and above ‘Panchgani Castle’. This portion is not built to carry the present traffic load, and can give way.

One solution would be to develop the road to Tableland from the Godavli side, and make it broad enough to take buses comfortably both ways. If this is done, vehicular traffic need not be allowed beyond the ‘Panchgani Castle’ gate.

Ideas on this subject would be welcome. Please use the ‘comments’ section to write your suggestions.

THE BASON YEARS : 1947 - 1974

2015-03-17T19:10:00.001-07:00

Mr. O. D. Bason became Principal of St. Peter’s School, a British School, in 1947, just after India gained independence.

The six Principals preceding him, The Revs. Williams, Rowan, Drury, Dumphy, Dixon & McKeown, were all towering personalities, each one a British Reverend. Bason was the first Indian to take their place. He was not a clergyman. At that time, I suppose the School Board must have told themselves, “ We have to make the best of a bad situation. We’ll replace this chap with a proper Principal as soon as possible.” When it was realised that no ‘proper Principal’ would be available, and that‘this chap’ was getting on all right, Mr. O. D. Bason was confirmed as Principal. At that time, no one could have foreseen that in the years to come, Bason’s name, like Abou Ben Adham, would ‘lead all the rest’.

Forty years after Mr. Bason retired, a book has been published reliving the twenty-seven years he was Principal of St. Peter’s, Panchgani. The author, Brian Daniels graduated from St. Peter’s School in 1964. “The Bason Years: A History of St. Peter’s School, Panchgani 1947 - 1974” is an illuminating account of a purely British School changing into a good Indian School under the stewardship of the first non-British Principal.

The author, Brian Daniels graduated from St. Peter’s School in 1964. The School authorities extended their full cooperation to this project. Brian had access to minutes of committee meetings, the Principal’s Log, and all the old copies of the School Magazine. His research also included interviews with various ex-students and teachers of the School.

The result is that all the years that Mr. Bason was Principal have been faithfully reviewed. Since the ‘Bason years coincide with the first twenty-seven years of Independent India, this account also gives an idea of the social changes that were occurring during this period, and the changing profile of the students, and parents.

It is natural that there is more information about Brian’s years in the School, with some highlights of earlier years being left out. Mr. Rowe is mentioned as being the History teacher, but ex-students of earlier times would speak of having sat spellbound as Mr. Davis worked his magic in the History lessons. Another omission is the Ansari family staying at Bella Vista. They accommodated the Basons in their last years, right till the end, often arranging for the transport and treatment of Mrs. Bason in a good hospital in Pune. For many years there was at least one Ansari boy in the senior classes, this being a large joint family. Each one of these boys was an outstanding athlete and sportsman.

All this does not detract from the pleasure I got from both my readings of the book, and I am sure that other readers will also feel the same pleasure. In addition to the book, Brian has also opened an

internet site about the school, www.basonyears.com . On this site you are encouraged to write about your own experiences, or anything else. Once this site takes off, I am sure it will be an interactive meeting place for all ex-students, teachers and well wishers. As I write, there is only one comment. It is by Sattar

Khan, very much my junior, but a comment that captures the feel of the book much better than this effort by me.

Some extracts from Sattar Khan’s comment:

“What a delightful springboard for nostalgia diving!

I read your book today and caught myself smiling as I devoured page after page”.

“Your book excavated many names of school mates, teachers,

and other Panchgani denizens that had been buried in my mind over the decades. Coming across each one of those long-lost names made me wistfully recall memories of them and wonder what happened to them once they left school”.

“All the people who have had the good fortune to be associated with St. Peter’s School now have the good fortune of an engrossing, thoroughly researched, and elegantly written book”.

Thank you, Brian.

PANDIT NEHRU AT PRATAPGADH

2014-11-12T22:00:00.001-08:00

With the formation of the States Reorganizing Committee, there was an agitation demanding the creation of the State of Maharashtra with Bombay as the capital, carved out of the composite State of Bombay, which also included Gujarat. In the mid fifties, the Government of the then State of Bombay decided to install an equestrian statue of Shivaji Maharaj at Pratapgadh, the scene of one of his many triumphs. Prime Minister, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru was invited to inaugurate the statue.

To get to the fort of Pratapgadh, one has to go down from Mahabaleshwar to the village of Wada, and then climb up to the fort.Those days the only way to go up from Wada was on foot. While the energetic youngsters could climb up on their own, the weak and elderly were carried up on sedan chairs by the local villagers.

On being informed the transportation plans made for him, Pandit Nehru, being repelled at the thought of the villagers being used as beasts of burden for his benefit, refused to come. The State Government had no option, but to make a motorable road up to the fort.

The Prime Minister came by plane to Poona, and then by car from Poona to Pratapgadh via Wai, Panchgani, Mahabaleshwar, and Wada. Those days, after leaving Poona, there was tar road only while passing through the towns of Wai, Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar. The rest was all mud road. Very dusty. I doubt if cars had air conditioning those days. It must have been a very strenuous journey for the 68 year old Pandit Nehru.

From Pratapgadh, one could see the Prime Minister’s motorcade comprising of five or six cars, coming down the ghat. In front was a water tanker sprinkling water on the road to minimize the dust. Even then one could see a brown cloud behind the last car.

The small group of people gathered at the Afzal Khan Mausoleum waved excitedly as Pandit Nehru went past with his escort up to the long flight of steps that led into the fort. After paying his respects at the Bhawani Mandir, he looked around the fort with a lot of interest before climbing the pedestal from which he was to give his speech and inaugurate the statue.

The lax security of those days is obvious from the fact that I was able to run behind the Prime Minister’s convoy along with a friend. The two of us observed the statue ceremony, and ran back to Afzal Khan’s Mausoleum before Nehru could come there.

From the fort to the Mausoleum, Nehru travelled in an open jeep. It was here that we got a glimpse of what had made him such a revered personality. The jeep went down the steeply inclined rough road to the tomb, but before the vehicle could come to a halt, Nehru had jumped out and furiously waved away the other cars before they could come down, shouting that it is too dangerous for them. Disregarding his own age, the Prime Minister had risked his life to ensure that those with him faced no danger.

Later, the Prime Minister relaxed for a while on cushions placed outside the tomb, drank some fresh orange juice provided by the trustees of the tomb, overruling the objections of his security, before getting up to view the tomb of Afzal Khan. He stood for a while, deep in thought, went round it, appreciating the peaceful surroundings, before coming out and taking his leave, shaking hands with all present.

What a contrast with present times, when even ordinary MLA’s come with security between them and the people, and state Ministers behave as if they have become king for life.

St. JOSEPH’S CONVENT – SOMETHING STRANGE HAPPENING

2014-07-06T23:45:00.004-07:00

The Convent School, as St. Joseph’s is popularly known in Panchgani, is the oldest school in this little town famous for its boarding schools. It has also remained one of the best schools, maintaining its high standards throughout the almost 120 years it has been in existence. But things seem to have changed. All the other schools are packed with students, with admission being difficult. In some cases, one hears of donations being required before admission is granted. Why is it then that the Convent has only about 70 boarders – less than half its capacity?

One hears that this is a leasehold property and the lease has expired. Apparently the Municipal Council is refusing to renew the lease. Actually, about half of Panchgani is leasehold land. All the leases have expired, but none have been renewed. In the case of the Convent, the difference is the rumour that a few crore rupees have been demanded as the price for converting the leasehold to freehold. Also there is talk of some very powerful people wanting possession of this property.

This may or may not be true, but either way, I doubt if the property can be taken away from the Convent as long as they want to hold on to it. There are Heritage laws which will not allow any changes in the property either physically or in its usage. After all, the Convent is ‘The Mother of all Heritage properties in Panchgani’, being the first school in a town distinguished by its schools. If, indeed the lease has expired, then the Convent is entitled to the first refusal.

The Municipal Council of Panchgani was formed on 1^st April 1910. All the properties above the Mahabaleshwar road were declared leasehold for ninety years from that date. The St. Joseph’s Convent was started fifteen years before that. The property would have been acquired from the Government of Bombay Province at that time. Most likely it would have been a sale. There must have been a few other properties that had been acquired by sale before leasehold was declared. I think all these properties were classified as leased in perpetuity. I know of one such property which is classified as leased in perpetuity. The Convent is also probably in the same category –leased in perpetuity.

Schools like St. Joseph’s are directly responsible for the prestige that Panchgani now enjoys as a premier educational town. If the Municipal Council had any sense of history, it would have declared the Convent as ‘A Jewel of Panchgani’, and tried to help out if there are problems.

In the old days, the main income for the Municipal Council was Property Tax. Now, with so many tourists coming, the Council levies an Entry Tax from all visitors and a Pollution Tax on all vehicles. The income from Property Tax is negligible compared to the other revenue that comes to the Council. In addition to all this there are Government grants. The Municipal Council is very rich now. In all decency, they should waive all taxes from the old schools which have passed their centenary or are just about to. These schools have laid the foundations that have made Panchgani what it is.

If indeed there are ‘powerful people’ eyeing the real estate owned by the Convent, I doubt if there is any awareness of what they are up against. There are many ex- students of the Convent all over the world who are now very influential people. Many of their spouses also hold positions of power. To this if you add ex-students of the other schools, who all have some affection for this school, you really have some sort of a ‘power bank’. Apart from these, there must be so many good people who would be horrified on hearing about what is going on.

It is a matter of time before word spreads about the problems the Convent is facing, but when it does, the so-called ‘powerful people will find themselves in a big mess.

Over the years, one has seen people with tremendous power, at the Municipal level as well as the State level. Now all that remains of them is a name on a board, or a name of a road, abbreviated for convenience. Power keeps going from one to another, but even then, there are many powerful people who believe that their power is eternal. On the other hand, institutions remain. This one is about a hundred and twenty years old. We look ahead towards the 200^th anniversary.

THE CHEESEMAKER OF PANCHGANI

2014-05-13T23:25:00.003-07:00

During the sixties, many Panchgani residents would be at a loss if someone from Pune or Mumbai asked them to bring some Panchgani cheese on their next trip. Everyone knew that the only produce of Panchgani was Mala’s Jam. Nobody had heard of cheese being made in Panchgani.

A middle aged gentleman named Finch had started making cheese in Panchgani, though most of the residents were unaware of it. Mr. Finch was either British, or Anglo Indian. I am not sure. He had started his manufacture in one of the bungalows just before the Kachbowdi Naka. All these bungalows have now been demolished to give way to new constructions. A hotel now stands at the site where Mr. Finch started making cheese.
After some time, it was discovered that Mr. Finch was no longer there. With some effort and a lot of enquiries, Mr. Finch was traced to one of the bungalows in the Indorewala Estate, known now as SherBaug. The cheese was as excellent as ever, only the place of manufacture had changed.
Mr. Finch was more an artist than a businessman. I always thought that making good cheese was more important to him than selling it, though he must have been sending his produce out of Panchgani somewhere. On being asked why he didn’t have a board announcing his product, his stock reply was, “ Good cheese is never advertised.” It is true that his cheese was much better than the branded cheese available in the market. Was this statement an ideal from a bygone era?
What cheese do people right at the top of the financial pyramid consume? Surely it would be better than the most expensive branded cheese. Something exclusive, and hence never advertised. From that point of view, the anti-advertising stance is legitimate, as it indicates an aspiration to perfection.
The cheese, a light yellow in colour was made in the form of loaves in metal moulds similar to the moulds for making bread. Probably these loaves had a standard weight. For us retail customers, Mr. Finch would cut a piece of the required weight from a loaf, weigh it carefully, and pack it with butter paper.
This was a one-man show. It ended when Mr. Finch passed away. He had no assistants who could have tried to start cheese manufacturing. Cheese making in Panchgani began and ended with Mr. Finch, a true artist in his chosen profession.
After his demise, Mrs. Finch moved to the bungalow known as 'Rockside', near St. Joseph's Convent, where she worked as Chief Accountant for many years. That was also many years ago.

THE ANJUMAN SCHOOL - AN UNFULFILLED DREAM

2013-12-20T04:04:00.000-08:00

From the time Panchgani was settled, it has been recognised as an ideal place for a boarding school. By 1920, there were already four schools. The St. Joseph’s Convent, started in 1895, Kimmins in 1898, European Boys’ (St. Peter’s) 1904, and The Parsi School (Billimoria) in 1908. Around the beginning of 1920, six rich Muslim gentlemen with philanthropic ideals met at the Panchgani residence of Nawab Ghulam Jilani Bijlikhan, the Nawab of Wai. They were: Mr. Chhotani, Mr. Khandwani, Mr. Sobhani, Seth Hussainbhai Lalji, Seth Jafferbhai Lalji, and Sir Ghulam Mohammed Azam.

They realised that following the events of 1857, the Muslim community had started falling behind the rest of the country. They took their inspiration from Sir Syed Ahmed Khan the founder of Aligarh University. In 1875, Sir Syed founded the Madarsatul Uloom in Aligarh and patterned the Mohommedan Anglo Oriental College (which later became Aligarh University) after Oxford and Cambridge Universities that he had visited while on a trip to London in 1869. His objective was to build a college in tune with the British education system but without compromising its Islamic values. He wanted this College to act as a bridge between the old and the new, the East and the West.

The six gentlemen who met in Panchgani had similar ideals. Each of them donated Rs. 25,000/-, while Sir Ghulam Mohammed Azam gave an additional Rs. 1,25,000/-, plus a donation of Rs. 50,000/- from the Abdulla Lalji Education Fund. The Daar-ul-Uloom (Gateway to Wisdom) Trust was formed, and things began moving very fast from then on.

165 acres land was purchased. 85 where the present Anjuman School is situated, and another 80 acres on the opposite side of the Panchgani-Mahabaleshwar road. The foundation stone of the Muslim School, as it was then named, was laid by Sir Lloyd, the Governor of Bombay Province. It was decided to start the school immediately, so till the school buildings could be made, Nawab Ghulam Jilani Bijlikhan offered his Panchgani Bungalow, ‘The Ark’ as he had done on two previous occasions. (See ‘The Most Historic Bungalow in Panchgani’ 11/10/2011). Major Watson from the U. K. Became the first Principal.

The whole idea was to have a school in Panchgani where the children would get the best education on the lines of Eton and Harrow, so that students from India would not have to go abroad for a good education. The Muslim School seemed to be heading in that direction. For some years It had a wonderful academic and sports record. This was till Independence, when the country was partitioned.

After that, everything went wrong for the School. Most of the rich Muslim parents migrated to Pakistan, taking their children. The Dar-ul-Uloom Trust was also in disarray. The School started facing problems, and so naturally found it difficult to retain teachers. The Principals would also keep changing as no one was able to continue working under these conditions for long.

I was in school (St. Peter’s) at that time, and later in college, but I was aware of what was happening as my father was the local Trustee. Every now and then, the Principal would send a messenger with a letter asking for some money to feed the boys. I found these notes while going through my father’s belongings after his demise.

A frequent visitor to our house was Mr. Akbar Peerbhoy, an eminent lawyer from Bombay. He would also visit the Muslim School, which had been renamed The Union School after Independence. All the while, he had been trying to persuade the other Trustees of the Anjuman-i-Islam Trust, Bombay to take over the School. Finally in 1959, he succeeded, The School was taken over, and became The Anjuman-i-Islam School, Panchgani.

Happy days were here again. Captain Siddiqui took over as Principal towards the end of 1959, and with the full support of Mr. Peerbhoy, he re-established the School as a force to be reckoned with, both academically as well as in sports.

The School continued to progress even after Captain Siddiqui retired. He was followed by some very competent Principals. Mr. Gerald Peel, an Englishman who had spent most of his life in India and loved the country. After him came Mr. Mohammed Naeem, who was also a very eminent educationist, and after him, Mr. Shakir Syed who always considered the interests of the School as the most important things in his life.

Mr. Peerbhoy supported all these Principals in their endeavours. I think he truly understood the vision of the six original founders and was moving in that direction. This, despite opposition from the other Trustees who felt the whole thing was a waste of time, and that all the property could be better used. He passed away when Mr. Shakir was Principal. His wife, Homai tried to continue the good work, but she had also grown very old, and passed away a few years later.

With the Peerbhoys removed from the scene, the school began deteriorating. The Trustees, being big businessmen or politicians were unable to treat the teachers and even the Principals with respect, with the result that no one of any calibre was able to continue in the school for long.

The current fundamentalist upsurge has had its own impact. There is more emphasis on prayers than on acquiring wisdom. Even the property is disappearing. Of the original 165 acres, the school now has less than half that amount.

Mr. Peerbhoy had visualised a Girls’ School, a Technical Institute, proper Staff quarters playgrounds etc. on the 80 acres on the other side of the road. At least for now, this doesn’t seem possible.

Maybe all this will change. Maybe someday there will be a few Trustees with an educational and social vision, who will once again take up the challenge and try to make real the dream that six men had almost a hundred years ago, and one man tried to fulfil in the sixties and seventies.

A POLISH SCHOOLGIRL’S IMPRESSION OF PANCHGANI 1945-‘47

2013-10-30T23:52:00.002-07:00

I have already written about ‘POLISH STUDENTS IN PANCHGANI SCHOOLS’. In it I referred to that wonderful book, ‘An Unforgettable Journey’ by Maria van der Linden. Maria was one of the Polish refugee children who studied in Panchgani, and later went to New Zealand where she settled. Amit Vora recently sent me the part of the book which deals with her stay in Panchgani. Going through it again, I realised that here was a fresh view of Panchgani of the mid forties, which could be worth sharing.

The description of the flowers on Tableland (which, alas do not exist any more) reminded me of the article by Fr. Santa Pau titled ‘Rev. Blatter as a Botanist and Panchgani’, which I have posted on this Blog. Maria describes them: “At the beginning of the monsoon season around mid-May, the tablelands were carpeted with wild violets, yellow buttercups and lilies-of-the-valley. This was a magnificent sight to behold.”

Blatter retired as head of the Botany Department of St. Xavier’s College, Bombay. His description: “ The whole is covered with grass into which there are woven the loveliest of tiny flowers. Most of the characteristic plants prefer a gregarious life; there are smaller and bigger patches . . . of the white ‘Eriocaulon’, locally called ‘hat-pin’, or again, miniature little forests of the purple ‘ Dysophylla stellata var. gracilis’, and whole carpets of the ‘Blue Bonnets’ ( Utricularia) . . . ”

The words of a scientist in love with the place he is describing.

Maria seems to have explored some of the caves in the sides of Tableland. In my childhood, when we were roaming on and around tableland, a number of caves had small wild life in them. A cave about half-way up, near Devil’s Kitchen, accessible with great difficulty was known as Bats’ Cave. A whole lot of bats would come rushing out if you tried to enter.

The big cave above Prospect Hotel, which can be seen from the Bazaar was known a Pigeons’ Cave. It could only be accessed from below and looked very menacing inside. It was home to hundreds of pigeons. An old lady was believed to also stay there. She would come down sometimes probably for provisions, muttering to herself all the time. We were all, very much afraid of her.

Much later, a Fakir, ‘Kadar Basha’ used to stay in the cave. He was a very jovial man, walking around the town, always smiling and blessing everyone in sight.

Around twenty-five years ago, a local man, Govind Bodas leased the cave. He then built an ingenious flight of steps from the top of tableland into the cave. Whereas formerly only those willing to undergo the discomfort of a walk along the ‘tiger’s path’ at the base of Tableland and a climb into the cave could enter. Now, practically anyone could come. Bodas has a restaurant in the cave.

Apparently, Maria was unaware of the existence of Mahabaleshwar, as she describes a large tropical jungle some sixteen miles outside Panchgani, where British garrison was stationed near a lake for training in jungle warfare. The entire road from Panchgani to Mahabaleshwar was entirely desolate those days. The jungle started before the Gureghar climb, heralded by the deafening sound of millions of crickets. The same sound accompanied you into Mahabaleshwar. Occasionally a few tanks manned by British soldiers would pass through Panchgani.

As Maria rightly notes, the one big grocery in Panchgani was The Panchgani Stores. I have described it in ‘Some Old Shops in Panchgani’. The Panchgani Stores was really a posh place. The only shop where Europeans could be seen. The other shops in the bazaar were dilapidated shacks where no European would want to be seen dead in.

Apart from the three missionary schools – St. Joseph’s, Kimmins and St. Peter’s, the Parsi School (Billimoria) and the Hindu School (Sanjeevan) are mentioned. Strange that she missed the Batha School which is just across the road from where the Kimmins Bakery stood. Or maybe it slipped her mind after all these years. One can understand her omitting the Muslim School (Anjuman). That was about three miles out of Panchgani. Quite a distance those days.

I had no idea that the Convent also cared for many abandoned Anglo-Indian and British children, but it fits in with the dedication of the nuns at the Convent. I know that they used to visit and care for the poor and sick villagers.

The Bel Air Hospital is mentioned as the place where tuberculosis was treated, but here Maria’s memory is at fault on some points. The Hospital had a number of resident doctors. I have mentioned two, Dr. D’Cunha and Dr. Ajgaonkar in my article ‘Doctors in Panchgani – Early Times’. Dr. Rustomji Billimoria the founder was also a regular visitor. The Portugese doctor, Dr. D’Gama had his own private practice in one of the buildings where we have Happy Hours School. Maybe that is why he visited only once a week.

Maria rightly praises the food at the Sanatorium. Tuberculosis, being mainly confined to the poor, the treatment in those pre-antibiotic days was mainly pure fresh air and good nutrition.

Maria’s mother became the Nurse in Kimmins school, and Maria was enrolled in the same school. She was the only Polish student there, the other girls being enrolled in the Convent, which was Roman Catholic. Even so, she seems to have enjoyed her stay there. She has good words for the versatile Miss Pearsall, the Principal, who was an accomplished pianist and poet.

The description of the bazaar which they used to frequent during the Winter vacation is interesting. The prices seem unbelievable these days: “. . . goods were displayed on trestles or simply on woven jute mats spread on the ground. Here we could buy a bunch of bananas for one rupee. One small banana cost eight annas (pence), a coconut was three annas, a large mug of roasted peanuts was two annas, while lollipops sold at one anna each. In those days 16 annas equaled one rupee.”

Maria also experimented with making ‘peanut chikki’ or peanut bars as she called them.

The final days of the Freedom Struggle are also described. She speaks heightened security around the school. This could have been the result of the ‘Prati Sarkar’, which was the freedom movement in the Satara region. One of my articles describes the ‘Prati Sarkar’.

Maria’s stay in Panchgani ended happily when she and her mother were able to leave for Australia and on to New Zealand, where she wrote this book.

You can read the Panchgani part of Maria’s book by logging on to

http://www.antoranz.net/BIBLIOTEKA/LINDEN/HTM/L11.HTM

MEETING GANDHIJI – HIS ASSASSINATION & THE AFTERMATH

2013-10-01T19:32:00.001-07:00

Gandhiji used to visit Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar regularly every summer. He would stay in Mahabaleshwar till toward the end of May, when the monsoons were about to start. Then he would move to Panchgani. Here, he usually stayed at Dilkhush Bungalow, which is on your right as you turn down towards Shivajinagar. Sometimes he would stay where we now have the Municipal Hospital. The prayer meetings would be held at the Batha School in the evenings. We, being students of a British school, were forbidden from going there, but nevertheless, it was possible to go there. It was also possible to take his autograph in a recently gifted autograph book. There it remained among various unimportant autographs, until the book got lost and never found again. However, my brother, who is my senior by about three years told me recently that he still has that autograph book with Gandhiji’s autograph.

Gandhiji was attacked twice on these visits. Once, between Wai and Panchgani, and once after his prayer meeting at Batha School. Shades of Birla House? Each time, he was rescued by local Congress workers. On both occasions, he being Gandhiji, asked his rescuers to release the attacker, and let him go in peace.

On that 30^th January evening, since our school was having its winter vacation, we were strolling around on the outskirts of Panchgani. When we came to Baby Point, a whole lot of villagers carrying lathis, came running past. “Stay out of sight. It is dangerous for you Muslim boys now”, one of them told us. Another told us not to worry, nothing would happen to us, but we should go home immediately.

Coming through the bazaar, a large crowd had gathered at the chowk, listening to the Congress leader, Dr. B. D. Savant as he informed them amidst sobs that Bapu was no more. At home, the lights were off. Both our parents were sitting in front of the radio, looking frightened as they heard the news.

The madness started the next day.

Early morning we heard that Dr. Thakkar’s dispensary and home had been burnt down during the night.

This was the beginning. Anand Bhawan, and Sanjeevan Vidhyalaya were also burnt.

At that time, we could not grasp the extent of the madness, but later, as we grew up, we realized that this had happened all over India. That just because Gandhiji’s assassin was a Brahmin, all Brahmins were targeted. We used to wonder at the mindlessness of the people of those days who would attack innocent people of a particular community just because someone from that community had killed Gandhiji. We were confident that such a thing could never occur again, now that our people were so much more enlightened.

This complacency lasted till 31^st October 1984, when news came of Indira Gandhi’s assassination. I was standing with a Sikh school teacher, and I saw the terrified look in his eyes when it was learnt that some Sikhs were involved. One saw at first hand the sort of madness in the whole country as must have been in 1948. Our people had learnt nothing in all those intervening years. A crime by a few could lead to a massacre of the whole community.

In 2002 one saw the same thing. This time, the target was the Muslim community in Gujarat. Even those in authority saw nothing wrong in a whole community being targeted for the wrongdoings of a few.

What happened after Gandhiji’s assassination can still happen even now.

When will our people learn?

SHER WADIA - HE LIVED AND DIED ON HIS OWN TERMS

2013-09-26T08:56:00.002-07:00

Yesterday morning, Zahid Abrar (St. Peter's 1964 batch) called to say that he had just been informed of Sher Wadia’s death. Sher’s adopted son, Krushna had called Zahid from Virar..

Born with the proverbial ‘Silver spoon . . .’, Sher gave it all up to live life on his own terms. His father was the legendary movie producer D. R. D Wadia, who had a house in Panchgani. (See ‘Pioneering Parsis of Panchgani’).After DRD passed on, Sher spent some time as a truck driver. Later, after selling the house, he bought a small fort, Pandavgad above Wai in a government auction. He lived there all by himself for over thirty years till the end came yesterday, 25^th September 2013. Early morning, when some men sent by his friend Mayur Vora to carry him down to Wai on a stretcher (the only way he could have come down) came, they were unable to wake him, and realised that he was dead.

Sher was the sort of person who could never refuse a plea for help. As a result, there were many who took advantage of his generosity to come with sob stories, and Sher would give. At times, he would give fairly large amounts. Fortunately, he had left his money with Mayur, who would give a regular amount, plus more whatever more Sher asked. While hardly anything was spent on his personal welfare, this man gave away to others.

Some of his spending was very praiseworthy. He had adopted a little boy from a nearby village and got him educated. Krushna has grown up now and is working in Virar. He is married, and has a lovely little daughter. Krushna was present for the funeral.

Before he sold his house, Sher had married Reena Prasad, or ‘Bulbul’ as we all called her. The marriage didn’t work, and was dissolved peacefully without any recrimination. Reena was present at the funeral today, and she paid her respects to the memory of this wonderful man who had always remained her friend.

Sher’s sister, Zarine, who lives in Pune was also there. A very graceful lady, she charmed all of us with her composure throughout the proceedings.

About ten days ago, while it was raining heavily in Panchgani and Wai, we were wondering how Sher would be coping, with the primitive facilities at his disposal. That is when his friend, Aslam Merchant showed us an SMS he had just received from Sher. It read: “Am fine. Enjoying nature in a pristine atmosphere . . .” He was still able to enjoy the heavy rains.

A few days later his health began to deteriorate. Mayur Vora tried his best to persuade Sher to come down, but Sher refused. Finally, Mayur sent a stretcher to bring the old man down come what may. This was day before yesterday evening. They were supposed to bring him down yesterday morning.

Sher’s body was brought down, and taken to Gitanjali Hospital, where Dr. Kaddu examined him and issued the Death Certificate. Meantime, Krishna arrived with Nikunj Vora, who drove him to Wai from Bombay. Since the funeral was for the next day, the body had to be kept overnight. Normally the prayer hall at the cemetery is used for this, but in view of the inclement weather, it was not possible for anyone to be there with the body to recite the necessary overnight prayers. After long discussions, Mayur’s suggestion was accepted, and Sher was placed in our old house, ‘Chishtia Manzil’, opposite the Parsi Fire Temple. We had sold this building to Mayur about six years ago, and he put it to good use to solve the problem.

Sher lived his life entirely on his own terms. He also preferred to die on his own terms at the place where he had spent almost half his life, and which was his natural home. His classmates of more than fifty years ago from St. Peter’s School were very much moved by what had happened. From the innumerable letters, I am placing before you this one from Khalid Tharadara:-

Sher Wadia had a compelling heritage as outlined by Zahid regarding his father and mother and leaves behind a son who shall like Freddie Balsara rock the world with his poignant and pedigree Parsi and Persian DNA molded and shaped and compounded by centuries of purity and perfection that the Parsees are so famous for.
I never saw Sher in the past 50 years but he was a legend in the hills of Panchi as he chose to live and stay in that place as his manifest destiny. He never ran away from the Hills and remained loyal to the construct and paradigm that Panchi offered him the Paradise he sought on Earth and through nearly five decades (since1965) enjoyed every moment he lived there while the rest of us were migrants, tourists, visitors and vagabonds trying to touch bases with an innocent and wonderful past that provided solace and comfort to the wounds and vicissitudes of the brutal realities of the recent past, the current practicalities and the suspence of the unpredictable future.
Sher Wadia, Jehangir Kharas, Phiroz Bhiladwala, Darius Mandroina, Cherag Dhoohmal, and Daruwalla in my class (I hope I did not miss anyone) reflect the creme de creme of the Parsee manos.
With condolences from Khalid Ismail Tharadra from Los Angeles, CA, this Wednesday Sep 25, 2013 at 2:00 pm LA time.

KAAS TALAO - THEN AND NOW

2013-09-17T08:45:00.000-07:00

Earlier, as I have described in ‘BOATING IN MAHABALESHWAR’, the boating was owned by Jal and Ghavere Irani. They also owned the Boat Club Cafe next to it. In the late sixties, Peter Patrao and I were both working there. Business at that time was purely seasonal. Off season, we did maintenance work if needed, or just whiled away our time. On one such occasion, we decided to explore the newly formed lake at Tapola village. This lake has been formed by the Koyna dam. The waters comes right up to Tapola village, below Mahabaleshwar.

Accordingly, we hired bicycles at Panchgani, and rode to Mahabaleshwar and down to Tapola. This was a small village with one tea stall. There had been talk of the Government wanting to develop it into a tourist attraction. The lake, naturally was huge, as the waters extended right up to the Koyna dam near Karad town. Now, Tapola has become a tourist attraction with a lot of business being done, plus boating, but at that time, we were the only outsiders there.

There were some big rowing boats there which were being used to transport villagers to various villages on the shore of the lake. One boatman told us that if we came with him to Bamnoli village, we could get to Satara just by crossing the hill. It seemed a good idea, so we loaded our bicycles on his boat, and sat down in the boat with the other villagers. We were the only ones getting off at Bamnoli. The boatman pointed out a path we were supposed to take to go to Satara, and went his way.

We started up the path, pushing our bikes. At times, we had to carry them. Up and up, the afternoon sun blazing down upon us all the time. With our customary brilliance, we had omitted to bring any water with us, and there was nothing on the way. Just when it seemed that we would collapse from exhaustion and dehydration, the feel of the air changed. A cool breeze enveloped us. The colour of the soil had also changed. It was now red as in Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar. The trees ahead of us were also just like the short trees around the Mahabaleshwar lake. In fact it was as if we were back in Mahabaleshwar, and would come to our own lake any minute. Then, sure enough, through the trees, we could glimpse water. Moving on, we realised that it was indeed a lake, but much bigger and even more beautiful than our Mahabaleshwar lake.

The cool water revived us and we continued along the path round the lake. The path led to a motorable road. Finally we could ride our bikes again, though the road had a rough mud surface. We passed a section which reminded us of Tableland in Panchgani, and then the ghat started, all the way to Satara. The sun had set. We made our way cautiously out of Satara, to Pachwad, and on to Wai. The last bus had gone. We sat down and waited patiently until a truck came by. We loaded the bikes on the truck, and were soon in Panchgani.

The next day we told Mr. Irani about this beautiful lake above Satara, called Kaas Talao. He saw it as a business opportunity, considering the years of experience he had, organising boating in Mahabaleshwar. He asked his son, Rusi to go with me to Kaas and check it out from that point of view.

This time it was a comfortable trip to Kaas in Rusi’s car. He was also very much impressed with the lake. We parked near the small dam which held back the water, crossed the dam, and walked through the forest around the lake.

At one point, we saw an old man standing alone, holding a big stick. Greeting him as we approached, we noticed that his worn out shirt had the letters L&T on it. He explained that he had retired as watchman in Larsen and Toubro some years ago. His village was nearby, and now he was supposed to be ready with the stick. The boys would be driving a rabbit towards him, and he would have to make the rabbit go into the trap set up by the boys. While he was talking, there was the sound of children shouting, and crashing through the bushes. A rabbit came past at high speed before the old man could even pick up his stick. The boys followed close behind, out of breath, but with enough energy left to curse the old man for letting their lunch go past so easily. Obviously, the people in that region were very poor.

Back in Mahabaleshwar, Rusi’s report convinced Jal of the feasibility of starting boating at Kaas Talao. From the long term point of view, it seemed a good idea. Both of them went to Satara to meet the Collector and try for the required permissions. That is when they were informed that the water from Kaas Talao was the water supply of Satara. Boating couldn’t be allowed as it would lead to pollution of the lake.

In 2013 I had the opportunity of visiting Kaas again, after so many years. I had been reading about the popularity of Kaas as a tourist attraction. I had heard about the Government’s plan of developing it into a new hill station, which they had even renamed with the lack of imagination common to many officials, as ‘New Mahabaleshwar’. I had also read of plans to make entry to Kaas subject to online permits showing the exact number of people intending to visit, with the idea of limiting the visitors to 20,000 per day.

It was a Sunday when we decided to go, but permits weren’t required. Traffic was unbelievable. There were so many cars, practically bumper to bumper on the narrow road. In addition, there were State Transport buses, and the even bigger private tourist buses. All going up, or coming down. At times there would be a traffic jam caused by some stupid driver trying to overtake and blocking the whole road in the process. We could see some plots marked out for future construction, and some construction work in progress and access roads being made. There were a number of stalls selling refreshments. It was difficult to believe that this was the same place I had visited years ago. Despite the crowd, we were able to find a pleasant secluded spot on the lake shore, where we sat for a while.

The road is well surfaced. A State Transport bus went by with the destination board reading Bamnoli. The village from where we had pushed our bikes up was now connected by bus to Satara. There is boating for visitors at Bamnoli, just as it is at Tapola.

This visit was too short to get a proper idea of the changes that have taken place. Superficially, there seems to be an improvement in the life of the original villagers. Some of them appear to have sold their property to city entrepreneurs. We hope they got a good price and actually benefitted by doing this. The small stalls were probably run by the locals. In addition, there were a number of guards armed with whistles keeping the traffic moving and trying to stop people from parking their cars at the wrong place, as this led to traffic jams. These must have been locals seeing the ease with which some arrogant car owners would just ignore them, leaving their cars and taking walks in the countryside. Possibly, some of them could have been the boys we saw hunting the rabbit so many years ago.

BOATING IN MAHABALESHWAR

2013-08-31T19:02:00.002-07:00

The biggest attraction in Mahabaleshwar is the Venna Lake. Practically all tourists visit the lake and take a boat ride at least once. There is always a big crowd for the boating, run by the Mahabaleshwar Municipal Council.
It was in the 1940’s that a pioneering young entrepreneur, Jal K. Irani thought of starting boating at the Mahabaleshwar lake. Most people thought it a crazy idea. The tourist seasons were limited to the month of May till the monsoons started, a fortnight during Diwali, and a week between Christmas and New Year. The rest of the time, Mahabaleshwar had no visitors. In addition, the heavy rains for four months during the monsoons, when it was impossible to stay there. The fool and his money would soon be parted.
Jal was blind in one eye. The operation to save it had failed and he was resting in Panchgani with his wife and two sons in a bungalow owned by his family. The education facilities available in Panchgani tilted the decision in favour of his project. He took out a lease from the forest department for the northern shore of the lake.
With one boat brought from Bombay, Jal started his Mahabaleshwar Boat Club. Every morning this one-eyed man would cycle from Panchgani to the Mahabaleshwar lake and spend the day trying to improve the area, and giving the occasional customer a boat ride. A boy staying in a hut just below the lake would come and watch and sometimes help out. Jal taught him rowing. Abu Dange stayed on with Jal as the head boatman till the Boat Club was wound up.
Jal and Abu would take turns giving boat rides. In time the number of boats increased to three. Later five. More young boys were trained in rowing. With the added manpower, Jal was able to make proper landing facilities for the boats.
For some time Jal began staying in Abu’s hut below the lake, till they were able to make a small room for Jal to stay. Now it was no longer necessary to cycle back and forth. With the two boys, Sam and Rusi admitted as boarders in St. Peter’s School, Jal moved to stay at the lake with his wife, Ghavere. The third son, Fali was born and he also became a boarder at St. Peter’s in a few years.
In 1953, the family suffered a setback. The one-eyed Jal, had a fall which resulted in the retina of his other eye being damaged. In a desperate attempt to save it, Jal and Ghavere went to England to get it operated, but were unsuccessful. Jal became totally blind. He joined the Royal National Institute of the Blind at Torquay, U.K., to learn how to cope with his blindness. His daughter, Mona was born at this time.
At Torquay, Jal learnt how to walk in a straight line, to get acquainted with his surroundings using his stick, how to face the person he is talking to, how to type, and to read Braille among other things. When he returned to India, it was difficult to believe that he was totally blind. He walked confidently and briskly, his arm interlocked with his escort. He would put out his hand for shaking just as any sighted person. Using Braille cards, he played a very good game of Bridge, acquitting himself creditably among well known players from Bombay.
Back at the lake, Jal quickly got to learn to move around the Boat Club area on his own, using his stick. Business was picking up, there was a demand for refreshments, so they started serving tea and coffee.
The area above the lake was beautifully landscaped, tables and chairs bought. The small room was extended to make a kitchen and a pantry, and the Boat Club Café was started.
By the end of the fifties, the Mahabaleshwar Boat Club with about twenty boats had become the main attraction of Mahabaleshwar. Tourists would come to the lake practically daily throughout their stay. The boats were well maintained, clean, and painted regularly, white and red, with a Plimsoll line to indicate loading capacity. Each boat had a name, not a number as they have now. Since the boats had all been bought at different times, each boat had a personality of its own, and customers, especially those who liked to row themselves, would ask for their boat by name.
Despite his blindness, Jal would often go out rowing. His favourite boat was ‘Madhuri’. A rudder would be fitted on, and Jal would row, and someone else would steer the boat using the rudder.
The Boat Club also became a popular location for film shooting. Many old movies have scenes shot at the lake, and the knowledgeable can identify the boats with a feeling of nostalgia. His pleasant personality, sense of humour, and cheerful yet philosophical outlook of life made Jal very popular with all the film people, especially Dilip Kumar, who never failed to visit him whenever he was in Mahabaleshwar. Customers would marvel at this blind man who could write out the boat ticket with the time of departure, check the arrival time, and hand out change purely by feel, distinguishing between different coins and even one and two Rupee notes which were almost the same size.
Another fan of Mr. Jal Irani was the Honourable Mr. Sri Prakash, Governor of Maharashra. He would enjoy going boating with Jal every day. Jal would row, while the Governor controlled the rudder. The boat would invariably be ‘Madhuri’. Later, Jal received an official letter appointing him ‘Boatman to The Governor of Maharashtra’.
By popular demand, the Boat Club began organizing a children’s party on Christmas day, with Santa Claus arriving by boat loaded with gifts for the children. Parties were also held to bring in the New Year. Moonlight boating was another popular innovation.
In 1969, tragedy struck the Irani family. The youngest son, Fali, now a squadron Leader in the Air Force got engulfed in a dust storm while piloting a transport plane over the Rajasthan desert. The plane crashed, killing all on board. The family was devastated. How could this happen? How could this cheerful youngster, who just a week earlier was laughing and joking at the lake suddenly be no more?
Conflicts within the family began coming out in the open, giving an opportunity for others to cash in. The Municipal Council, which had been eyeing the business for some time, managed to take over.
Both Jal, and Ghavere passed away some years ago. Their eldest son, Sam is in Canada. The second son, Rusi is a respected Senior Citizen in Panchgani. The daughter, Mona, who Jal never saw, is now a grandmother busy promoting environment education in Panchgani. Abu Dange has also passed away, but his sons and nephews have shops for ice-cream etc. near the lake.

Posted 15th October 2011 by Dancing Heart

BHAURAO PATIL - PIONEER OF MASS EDUCATION

2013-07-26T07:41:00.002-07:00

Satara District has thrown up some remarkable personalities. Lesser men have taken advantage of this and reached the pinnacles of power in Maharashtra. In the field of education, there have been, among others, Shahu Maharaj and Jyotiba Phule. As a young schoolboy, in the late forties, I was privileged to see Karmveer Bhaurao Patil.

Bhaurao was collecting money to finance his Rayat Sikhshan Sanstha (Mass Education Society). He had started this in 1919 when he was just about 30 years old. Even as a young boy he had been against untouchability and caste differences. His first venture had been a hostel which was open to students of all religions and castes despite opposition from the orthodox sections of society. This was the precursor to his Rayat Sikhshan Sanstha which gained him universal recognition. He wanted every village to have a school, and every school to have trained teachers. For this, he concentrated on opening teacher training colleges and primary schools. Those who could not afford an education were given work so that they could pay their fees while maintaining their self-respect at the same time. After independence, he established colleges for higher education.

When he passed away, the Sanstha had 38 cosmopolitan boardings, 578 voluntary schools, 6 training colleges, 108 secondary schools and 3 colleges

The only time I saw Bhaurao was at the finals of the Kabaddi Tournament in Panchgani. This must have been in the late forties. Bhaurao Patil was the Chief Guest. A majestic figure with a flowing white beard, this man, of whom only a few had heard about, got up to speak. Remember, this was at a time when most of our population was illiterate. India had just become free, and there were high hopes of making our country once more a land of milk and honey, as we were told it had been earlier.

Bhaurao spoke about the evils of the caste system. He also spoke about the need to provide everyone with the opportunity for education. Our freedom couldn’t be complete unless the caste system was eradicated and there was education for all our children, regardless of caste, creed, or status. He was setting up education institutes, and for this he wanted a donation of Re.1/- from those who could afford it. As he spoke, a young boy, Vasant Shinde, who had just been awarded a rupee for his good performance in the Kabaddi tournament came up and gave the rupee to Bhaurao. It was something amazing, as a rupee was quite valuable at that time, and the Shindes were not very prosperous. Vasant later became a taxi driver and died in a tragic accident, described in ‘The Seven Seater Taxis’. His sons and nephews have the Vasant Stores, which is doing quite well.

I never say Bhaurao again, but whenever I went to Satara, I could see some of the institutions, set up by him. He was truly an idealistic personality who spent his entire life trying to fulfil his dream of making India a truly great country. The sort of personality who doesn’t seem to have any place in the India of today.

Karmaveer Bhaurao Patil breathed his last on 9^th May 1959. He was fortunate enough to see his wow of opening 101 High Schools in the name of Mahatma Gandhi and imparting education to more children than were hair in his beard duly fulfilled. Long before Bhaurao passed away, he had donated his own land to the schools of the Sanstha. He had no house of his own at Satara, and no account whatsoever in any bank.

A BAREFOOT DOCTOR IN PANCHGANI

2013-06-22T06:43:00.000-07:00

In the old days, when there was little or no communication, the villages in the Krishna valley below Panchgani had no access to medical facilities. This problem, has been tackled in many poor countries by what are known as ‘Barefoot Doctors’. These are paramedical personnel who give basic medical assistance.

In India, this is not allowed, and such providers of medical assistance are called ‘Quacks’ and are always liable to be prosecuted. The medical lobby feels threatened by such people, and so refuses to recognise basic medical courses. Recognition would give legitimacy to those they call ‘Quacks’, as their work is socially relevant in certain conditions.

The gentleman I am writing about is still alive and well, and has come up in life. His name will not be mentioned. I’ll simply call him ‘the Doctor’.

Having worked for a few years with a medical practitioner, he acquired some skill in giving injections, dressing wounds, etc. Being of an observant nature, he was able to form an idea about which medical problems were of a serious nature and which were ordinary. Later, in the mid seventies, when he was working in the Municipal Dispensary, he came in contact with villagers from the Krishna valley who had climbed all the way up just to get some treatment. That gave him the idea of doing some useful work as well as earning some extra money.

Every Sunday, the Doctor, as he came to be known in the villages, would go down to the Krishna valley and attend to the medical problems. I have gone down with him a number of times, just for the hike, which was always most pleasant. For the Doctor also, this was a very enjoyable way of observing the Sunday holiday.

We would take the early morning bus to Gureghar. The bus stop is above the present Mapro Garden. We would walk to the edge, and then begin our climb down. A short way down was a small spring. This was the venue for our breakfast. The Doctor’s wife usually packed a preparation of Bombil Batata, with some Jowar Rotis. A delicious breakfast in the fresh air, overlooking a wonderful view, and washed down with clear pure spring water. What more could one ask for?

Invariably, we were the only ones going down the mountain in the morning. At this time, villagers were going up, either to work in a field on the Panchgani-Mahabaleshwar area, or to Panchgani. Passing us, some would inform the Doctor that ‘so and so’ needed to see him. When we came to the end of the climb, we turned left to go to Vagive village. There, the Doctor’s assistant, a young schoolboy, notebook in hand waited for us. The morning schedule had already been worked out by him.

The assistant would take over the Doctor’s bag, which contained two sterilised syringes in separate metal containers, some sterilised needles in another metal container, and an empty metal container for the used needles. Also Tetracycline injections, Anti-tetanus injections, multivitamin injection, analgesics, antacids, cough medicine, medicines for dressing wounds, cotton, bandages, etc. The Doctor was ready for his patients.

Guided by the assistant, the Doctor did his round. Most of the cases were fairly routine, but if there was any doubt, the patient was asked to come the next day to Panchgani to the Municipal Dispensary, or go to the Mission Hospital in Wai. The payment to the Doctor varied according to the financial condition of the patient. Some would pay immediately, others asked for a week’s time. The Doctor was very flexible about this. “ Most probably, he will pay next week. If he can’t afford it, there is no point troubling him. In any case, treatment cannot be denied for lack of money”. There were others who paid in kind. Some gave rice, or jowar as payment.

The social relevance of the Doctor was brought home to me when we encountered a lady from a village even more remote than Vagive. She had come all the way from a village behind the Kamalgad hill to Vagive, because she had been told that a doctor came there on Sundays.

After finishing with Vagive village, our lunch halt was on the bank of the Krishna river. At this place, the river was very shallow. It was possible to walk through it. In fact, there was a bullock cart track through the river here. After lunch, provided by the assistant, we bade him goodbye and continued across the river.

This part of our trip was more for pleasure, than with any commercial motive. We walked through the villages, Partawdi, Balkawdi ( where there is now a dam, the first across the Krishna river), Gulumb, and occasionally even as far as Jor, which is right at the end of the valley. Sometimes, we would be called to attend to a sick person, otherwise, we would just walk through.

The return journey began with some refreshments at Dhayat village, at the start of the climb. On reaching Gureghar, some more refreshment was available at the bus stop. After that, a walk back to Panchgani, as there was no bus back after 5.30 p.m. Occasionally we got a lift in a truck, but usually it was a walk all the way.

On reaching home, the Doctor would give the day’s takings to his wife. The money collected, and the grain received. Often there would also be a sackful of crabs, bought from the boys playing near the river. While the Doctor’s wife cooked the crabs for dinner, we had time for another round of refreshments. The delicious dinner brought the day’s activity to a close. I would bid farewell, and go to my own home for a well earned rest.

Now, of course, this sort of medical treatment is not necessary. The villages are no longer as remote as they once were. In fact, now, one can get into a bus and visit all these villages. It is also not possible to walk through the Krishna river at Vagive, as we used to. Instead, there is a brand new bridge to cross the river.

ECLIPSES AND KOJAGIRI POORNIMA ON TABLELAND

2013-06-06T00:10:00.001-07:00

Full moon nights on Tableland always induce a feeling of awe. This huge flat space lit up by the moonlight is a sight which should not be missed. The only occasion when Tableland is full of people on a full moon night is during the ‘Kojagiri Poornima’. This is the full moon immediately after Dussera.

There are many residents of Panchgani who go to Tableland only once a year. That is on the night of Kojagiri Poornima. This night has a religious significance all over Maharashtra. People pour milk into a broad basin, view the reflection of the moon in the milk, before drinking it.

This custom is observed all over Maharashtra, but Panchgani has the advantage of having Tableland, which other towns don’t have. Naturally, all who can go up to Tableland do so and celebrate Kojagiri Poornima in these unique surroundings. On these nights, there are different groups squatting on the ground, and doing the rituals associated with this event.

Apart from those with religious motives, many go to Tableland on this night just for the fun of it. Those with a taste for alcohol, enjoy their drinks in this wonderful atmosphere. Those who smoke, form their own separate group.

If you walk around Tableland, you pass the religious groups, the drinkers and smokers gathered seperately in isolated spots. In addition, there are families sitting with their snacks. At places, a game of ‘Antakshari’ is in progress. Other groups are singing. Some are just chatting. This is the one occasion when so many people of Panchgani are together, yet separate, all enjoying in their own way, bound to each other by Tableland in the moonlight.

On lunar eclipse nights, which also have a full moon, there is hardly anyone on Tableland. Our people are still very superstitious, and it is considered harmful to be exposed to some sort of emissions that astrologers claim occur during eclipses. In general, our people avoid going out when there is an eclipse, which means that those who enjoy such events have the whole of Tableland to themselves.

Before the eclipse starts, Tableland is fully lit up with the brightness of the moon. This is how the Earth must have looked when it was first created. Then, as the moon starts reddening, the brightness is gone, but there is still light. When the moon enters the umbra of the Earth’s shadow, it is as if a small arc has been cut from the moon. This cut gradually becomes larger and the moon is gradually being hidden from view. This continues till nothing of the moon is seen, and there is complete darkness.

On Tableland, you hear distant dogs and jackals howling. For some time all is dark, until a tiny silvery spot of light appears indicating that the eclipse is ending. Gradually, the moon comes into view, and the whole process is reversed.

Witnessing a total solar eclipse on Tableland makes life really worth living. I was fortunate enough to experience this in the early eighties. This total solar eclipse, some time in the early eighties, was visible in most of India. There was a lot of hype about it in the media, but instead of being informative, the superstitious aspect predominated. So there were stories of ‘Rahu & Ketu’ swallowing the sun, and precautions to be taken, etc. The only sensible advice was the bit about not looking directly at the sun, and viewing it through a dark film. The predictions of astrologers were given prominence, and pregnant women were advised to stay indoors. The ‘Times of India’ in its editorial on the subject announced that the best way to see the eclipse was on television. As if one can get any feel of the wonderful atmosphere by viewing an eclipse on television.

The Panchgani bazaar was completely deserted. We were slightly late going up to Tableland. At the chowk, as we turned from the main road, a first floor window opened, and someone called out asking the time. When I told him, he hurriedly closed the window with a bang.

We had the whole of Tableland to ourselves. We settled down near the pond. Looking through darkened films, we could see a small arc cut from the sun. The light of the sun, going through a small hole made by the forefinger and the thumb to the ground also had a small arc cut, which grew larger as the eclipse progressed.

As it grew darker, there was a drop in the temperature. A cool breeze was blowing. Looking at the water in the pond, we noticed a whole lot of tadpoles clustered together near the shore. The howling of dogs, jackals filled the air. A small fox had come up to the pond, but ran away when it saw us. It was now pitch dark.

When the sun started coming out, and the visibility improved, we made our way to the solitary stall on Tableland, near the main field. It was deserted. We found some water, and were able to drink. We also found some packets of biscuits. We took one, placed the money where the owner could spot it, and went down to Panchgani by the Godavli road.

All this time, we met nobody. People came out of their houses only after the eclipse was over. Apparently, for many, even drinking water during an eclipse is considered harmful. Consuming food exposed to an eclipse is also considered harmful. The trouble with us is that in such cases, we consult various ‘wise people’ for their opinion, instead of making a scientific study.

The effect on pregnant women can be verified by studying pregnant mice. Even that isn’t necessary. Animals in zoos are also exposed to an eclipse when it occurs. It is fairly easy to check if there is an increase in abnormalities of those animals born shortly after an eclipse. Even that isn’t necessary. It is only in India that such ideas prevail, and all over the world, pregnant women do not have to remain indoors during an eclipse. It is possible to check for abnormal babies born after an eclipse all over the world where an eclipse occurs. Harmful effects of consuming food or water during an eclipse, if any, can also be easily studied.

I am aware that anecdotal evidence involving only four people cannot be called scientific, but I can’t help saying this. All four of us who were on Tableland and ate biscuits and drank water that afternoon during the eclipse are hale and hearty after so many years. We meet every year, and go off on a driving tour for a few days. All of us are now fairly old, I am in my seventies.

TWO SPIRITS ARGUING AT NASRAPUR

2013-05-21T00:19:00.000-07:00

In the late sixties, a gentleman from Beloshe village came to hire my van. He was a bus driver in the State Transport, and he wanted to take his family for a Pooja to Nasrapur, which is on the way to Pune, just before Shivapur. This Pooja was the culmination of a vow he had taken that he would perform it if the Lord granted him a particular favour.

Early next morning, I drove down the ghat below Sanjeevan school to Beloshe village. My customers were waiting. They loaded some firewood and some utensils. In addition, they also loaded a goat and a chicken, and we were off.

Nearing Nasrapur, I was asked if I would cut the goat and chicken. It being necessary that a Mussalman did the actual cutting. I refused, so we had to stop on the road outside Nasrapur village, while someone went down to the village and found a Mussalman who would do the deed.

Traditionally in the villages in Maharashtra, it is customary for all animals to be cut by a Mussalman, according to Muslim rites and procedure. After the animal is killed, it is okay for a Hindu to clean and chop it up, but the first cut always has to be by a Muslim – a Mussalman. In every village, or in a neighbouring village there have been Muslims staying for generations, whose only duty is to cut animals. In every village there is traditionally a blacksmith a barber, carpenter, etc. All are necessary in the village set-up. The village Mussalman is also a part of this set-up. The village Mussalman also gets his share of the annual produce from everyone in the village.

The Mussalman of Nasrapur came and did what was required. We had parked in a clearing opposite a small Mandir on the main road, which was our destination. It is still there, on the left, as you go towards Pune. The ladies got busy cooking the meat, and also some rice and jowar bhakris. It was late in the afternoon by the time the food was ready.

Some of the food was arranged on a thali. The bus driver took out some country liquor and some ganja. This was also placed on the thali, and the family took it to the Mandir as offering. The Pujari of the Mandir sat down in front of the thali, and began swaying from side to side. Finally, it was as if a spirit had entered his body, indicated by a change in his voice. It had become very stern. The Pujari or the spirit in him said, “This is not accepted. Take it away.”

Apparently, this had happened before when they had come for the same purpose. They were better prepared this time. An old lady who had come with them, sat down in front of the Pujari, and also began swaying till a spirit entered her body. Now there were two spirits confronting each other. A well-matched contest.

The lady asked, “Why! Why is this offering being rejected?”. The Pujari replied that it wasn’t proper. Now the lady became aggressive. “How can it not be proper? We have brought a goat and a chicken. They have been cut by a Mussalman according to his religious rites. Everything has been prepared right here in front of the Mandir. We have also brought daaru and ganja. How is it not proper? You gods are not supposed to trouble the poor people like this. Our sacrifice has to be accepted”. The Pujari finally relented, but even then, he had the last word. “ Everything must be consumed right here in front of the Mandir. Nothing can be taken back, and nothing can be thrown away”.

It was about four in the afternoon. We were all hungry. We sat down to eat, but how much could we eat? So much had been prepared. We offered food to every passerby, but villagers are very particular about their meal timings. “We have eaten our lunch”, they would say, and go away.

We waited till sunset, when the villagers were ready to eat what we had prepared, as dinner. By about nine at night, all the food had been eaten, and we were allowed to return.

The bus driver’s pooja had finally been accepted.

LIGHTNING ON TABLELAND

2013-05-11T23:07:00.002-07:00

During the pre-monsoon showers in April and the beginning of May, and also when the monsoons begin and end, there is a lot of thunder and lightning. Tableland, being at a height, is most vulnerable to lightning strikes, considering how exposed the entire surface is. The incident I am about to relate occurred in 1964.

The Billimoria boys were playing hockey on the Kimmins field on Tableland. As I mentioned in my article titled ‘Tableland’, dated 10/10/2011, this is the only playing field on Tableland officially allotted to a school. My friend, Peter Patrao, who passed away last year, was the master in charge.

In his words, “There was a strange feeling in the air. Suddenly there was a crash, and I found myself on the ground. In fact all the boys were also on the ground. They all got up, except for this one boy. He was dead. The lightning had struck him. I was near him, and my left foot is burnt”. Peter had the burn mark on his left foot right till the end.

A tourist happened to be on Tableland in his car. When he saw what had occurred, he offered to take the dead boy down to Panchgani. The school doctor, Dr. Thakkar officially pronounced him dead. ( Dr. Thakkar’s clinic was next to where Vitthalbhai’s shop is located, next to the petrol pump. Dr. Thakkar passed away in the late sixties or early seventies. His place was taken by Dr. N. R. Nivsarkar and his wife, Dr. (Mrs.) L. N. Nivsarkar. Dr. N. R. Nivsarkar passed away some six or seven years ago. Dr. Lata Nivsarkar has retired).

As can be imagined, this was a very traumatic experience for all. Till late at night, Peter and I walked around Panchgani, trying to come to terms with this tragedy. As we saw it, lightning would have struck the highest point in the vicinity. This would explain why this particular boy was hit, except, that he wasn’t the tallest on the field that evening. We went to Billimoria school, and talked to the boys who had been playing. The tallest boy in the group said, “I had just sat down to tie my shoe laces, when suddenly I was thrown to the ground with great force”. The tallest boy was sitting when the lightning struck. We walked away without saying anything. I don’t know if this boy ever realised what a narrow escape he had just had.

As happens in such cases, everyone was wise after the event. Questions were asked in the newspapers as to why there was no protection against lightning on such an exposed surface, especially when so many schoolchildren play there all the time. The Municipal Council responded with a plan to install lightning conductors. It was estimated that about ten would be required to make the whole of Tableland safe. Accordingly, it was decided that these would be installed.

That is as far as it went. Some 49 years after this incident, nothing else has happened. Tableland, with more tourists now than school children is just as vulnerable to lightning.

This seems inexplicable. It is not as if the Council is short of funds. In fact, an extra tax is being taken from all visitors to Tableland. I am fairly certain the Ministry of Tourism would also contribute to this. Some things remain beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

THE KOLATIS OF WAI

2013-05-04T22:07:00.002-07:00

In the early sixties, while walking through the Panchgani bazaar one night, a gentleman stopped me. “ I am very drunk tonight, and I need to go to Wai. Can you drive me down”? I had nothing better to do that night, and this gentleman would freely lend us his van whenever we wanted it. I agreed to drive him down.

At the beginning of Wai, in the region opposite the newly started Arts and Science College, which was later renamed Kisan Veer College, there were a number of huts. This was our destination. The Kolati community stayed there.

The Kolatis are the traditional folk musicians of Maharashtra. While the men are expert in playing musical instruments and singing, the ladies specialise in singing and dancing. The form of music and dance presented by these folk is called ‘lavni’.

Lavni is becoming respectable now, but in those days, it was very disreputable, and the performers very poor. In our region, the legendary dancer, Yamunabai Waikar has contributed to uplifting the image of this dance form. In fact, she was awarded the ‘Padma Shri’ title last year. Some years ago, Yamunabai was instrumental in having a whole lot of proper houses built for the less fortunate members of her community on the Bavdhan Road in Wai, so the huts we visited that night no longer exist.

My friend had a special relationship with one of the Kolati girls, and we were looking for her. There was however, one problem. The huts were deserted except for the old folk. A well known politician from Panchgani had come to Wai, fully drunk, along with his friends as drunk as he. They were looking for girls. All the Kolatis had gone into hiding.

After quite some time we got news of the departure of the unwelcome visitors from Panchgani. The girls came out from where they had hidden themselves.

We were taken to a derelict house near the river, and in the hall, the performance began. There were two musicians - a harmonium player, accompanied by a man playing the dholki. The girls themselves sang as they danced. The standard wasn’t very high. To start with, it is very difficult to dance vigorously while singing at the same time. Usually when these performances are staged, there are specialist singers, so that the dancers can perform freely. Also these girls were nowhere near the top of their profession. All the same, there was an innocent grace in their movements, in contrast to the ‘in your face’ movements that pass for sexiness these days. The songs were popular lavni songs, and also some film songs.

That was what my friend had come all the way to Wai for. After the performance, we were invited to the girl’s hut for dinner. The girl’s parents were also present. All in all, it was a very pleasant evening. Our hosts had been very hospitable. In fact, it was as if we had just spent our time with some very old friends.

These performers were probably the least skilled in their community. Their livelihood came from entertaining the very ordinary people of this small town. Possibly there could also have been some income from collateral activities, but that is probably present in most activities. The more accomplished performers would have joined a touring ‘tamasha’ group, or the theatre, or even films.

In fact, just as in the early days of Hindi films, the female artistes were mainly high class courtesans, before the profession attained its present respectability, the early Marathi actresses would have been from the Kolati community. Now, of course, tamasha and lavni have become respectable art forms, and are no longer restricted to any particular community. With well known professional singers lending their voices, and incentives available to improve performances, a much higher standard is being achieved.

FARROKH BULSARA to FREDDIE MERCURY

2013-04-25T03:55:00.002-07:00

Shortly after I started writing this Blog, I got a mail from a lady in Argentina, who said she was a great fan of Freddie Mercury. She wanted to know if I had any memories of him. I wrote back to say that I knew him very vaguely when he was Bulsara, a student in St. Peter’s, Panchgani. I was teaching in another school, but would often visit St. Peter’s where I, as a fairly recent ex-student, knew most of the seniors. I used to play table tennis with them, and must have played Bulsara a few times, as he was said to be quite good, though I don’t remember. Most certainly he was not the school champion, as has been written somewhere. That honour goes to Victory Rana, who was also a part of the school band of those days, ‘The Hectics’ in which Bulsara played the piano and also sang. Rana went on to become a General, and later, Chief of Staff in the Royal Nepal Army

One evening in the sixties, Jack Timmins, who later became Principal of St. Peter’s said, “Do you remember Bulsara? He is now a pop singer in England. Sent me his first record”. It was a 33rpm long playing record, with a colourful cover. Naturally the music seemed strange to us. I suppose such things take time to get used to.

Over the years, I would hear about him once in a while, but had no idea that he was so famous. Not until that November morning in 1991. I was listening to BBC World Service News with my morning shave. That is when I learned that Freddie Mercury was critically ill. To have something like that mentioned on BBC news, one really had to be very well known. The next morning, the first item on BBC news was the death of Freddie Mercury.

Since I rarely listened to western music, I was blissfully unaware of the turmoil this St. Peter’s old boy had caused in the music scene. Then on a visit to Bangalore in 1996, I met a lady from the U.K., who was thrilled to know that I stayed in Panchgani. Lindsay Martin was doing the Indian section of the research for “The Definitive Biography of Freddie Mercury” on behalf of Lesley-Ann Jones, who was writing the book. Even after I explained that I had not known him much in school, she insisted on looking me up when she came to Panchgani for her research. She came a few days after I returned home. I took her to meet Rusi Irani, a former School Captain, who had been a few years my junior. Rusi felt that Janice Smith may know more, as she was much younger than us, and so, could have known Bulsara, especially since her mother had been the Art teacher, and used to take over whenever the school had no music teacher, being an accomplished pianist.

Janice came up with a lot of information, and it has been acknowledged in the book, even though Janice’s name has been spelt as Janet. Rusi’s contribution has not been acknowledged unfortunately, even though, right at the end of our meeting with Lindsay, he came up with a suggestion that proved absolutely invaluable while telling the story of Freddie Mercury’s youth. Not only that, but also finally the location of the burial of Mercury’s ashes after his cremation.

Rusi gave Lindsay the address and phone number of Gita Choksy, who, as Gita Bhuracha had been a schoolgirl in Kimmins School, and was from the same batch as Freddie. Rusi felt that maybe Gita could give some more information. Anyone reading this book, “ Freddie Mercury – The Definitive Biography”, by Lesley-Ann Jones, will realise that without Gita’s contribution, there would be hardly anything about Bulsara’s boyhood.

Perhaps, due to this book, St. Peter’s School, Panchgani has become known to fans of Freddie Mercury. Many have made a pilgrimage to Panchgani, just to view the scene of their idol’s childhood.

Naturally, undue advantage is also taken of this. After the school hall burned down in the beginning of the millennium, I was told about people in the school who claimed that one particular semi-burnt piano, was Freddie’s favourite piano. All sorts of people have given interviews to gullible reporters, using material gleaned from the book to show how well they knew him when he was a student – referring to him as ‘Bucky’, and talking about his unorthodox sexual preferences.

I suppose all this is part of the price of fame.

NEWSLETTERS FROM PANCHGANI

2013-04-17T23:52:00.001-07:00

Panchgani is different from all the towns in this region. This is because of the number of good English-medium schools there. Now, of course, there are many schools in every town, but even so, people from other towns can correctly guess when they come across someone from Panchgani. There is something special about ‘Panchganiwalas’.

With so much literacy, and widespread fluency in English, one would expect at least one regular English Newsletter to be published from Panchgani. Sadly, that is not so, though there have been attempts in the past, (I can recall two) to fill this lacuna.

In the early fifties, when I was studying in St. Peter’s, a small newsletter, titled ‘The Panchgani Review’ was started. Mr. Rusi Billimoria, a nephew of the Billimoria brothers, Burjor and Rusi, was the brains behind this enterprise. This Rusi Billimoria, was a teacher in Billimoria School. A highly creative young man, with poetic and musical talent, Rusi was encouraged by his uncles in this very idealistic venture.

Apart from Billimoria, the other schools were: St. Peter’s, St. Joseph’s Convent, Kimmins, Batha, and Sanjeevan. The Union High School, (now known as Anjuman School) was running in fits and starts, as continuous efforts were made to keep it going. New Era was in its infancy, and unknown. Most Panchgani people would have been unaware of its existence. The Panchgani Review gave news about these schools, the various activities, the inter-school tournaments, etc. apart from some news about Panchgani town.

This was a cyclo-styled paper, printed on the Billimoria School cyclo-styling machine. There must have been a nominal price, but I can’t remember what it was.

As happens with one-man-shows, the life of The Panchgani Review was limited to Rusi Billimoria’s stay in Panchgani. He left sometime in the mid fifties, and the The Panchgani Review was wound up. I believe Rusi Billimoria is in Canada, with all his artistic talents still intact. He would be in his eighties now. We wish him well.

Some six or seven years ago, a small newsletter fell out of my daily newspaper. This was ‘The Panchgani Patrika’. The Editor was Farah Qazi, daughter of Arif Qazi, who passed away a few years ago, and grand daughter of our very own Qazisab, who used to lead the prayers at the Panchgani Mosque when I was still in school.

This was a very well designed newsletter, having news about Panchgani, something about old times in Panchgani, and contributions from readers. Mr. Mayur Vora of Mapro Products, who is well known for the encouragement he gives to young people with ideas had supported this newsletter by giving her office space and a computer on which she could set the newsletter.

This was also a one person show, and when Farah left Panchgani to continue with her studies, the newsletter had to be closed.

At present, there is no newsletter about Panchgani. Why is that? There is a readership. Look at the number of students in Panchgani. To that, add the ex-Panchgani people, who are spread out all over the world. Most of the residents are literate. Some tourists could also be interested. On-line publishing is easy. Something interesting could be worked out.

The nearest thing to a newsletter about Panchgani we have now is this blog, and the Facebook site, ‘I Love Panchgani’, which is very popular among many ex-Panchgani People. Taking these as a starting point, a net paper about Panchgani can be started. Apart from news, such a paper could provide a forum for everyone to express their ideas about the development of the region. The authorities would also be made aware of the ideas we have for our own development.

Surely, this is what Democracy is all about? Isn’t a pity that we are still not using the opportunities provided by the NET to improve the quality of life in our beautiful little town?

Dr. ROSE MOSES - A NOBLE LIFE ENDS

2013-04-11T20:41:00.000-07:00

On the tenth of April, we buried Dr. Rose Moses who was associated with the Mission Hospital, Wai, since the late forties. She had passed away the previous night.

It was quite an elaborate Funeral. First there was a a Church Service at the Sibley Memorial Church in Wai. The mourners filled the Church completely, and many more had to pay their respects from outside. Incidentally, this Church was built by Mr. Stanley Smith, father of Dr. Moses. Stanley Smith is credited with having built many churches in Maharashtra.

Next was a ceremony in the St. Peter’s Church, Panchgani, which was also packed with people from Wai as well as Panchgani. The burial took place in the Christian cemetery in Panchgani. Dr. Moses was laid to rest next to the graves of her very dear friends, Mr. O. D. Bason , former Principal of St. Peter’s School, Panchgani, and his wife, Mrs. Lillian Bason. The burial spot just happened to be where it was by a very happy co-incidence. The Basons were the God-Parents of Dr. Moses’ son, Robert who was present throughout, receiving condolences from all present. Also present, sitting on a chair a short distance away was 95 year old Mr. George Smith, the twin brother of Dr. Moses.

Even at this fairly advanced age, Dr. Moses had retained her liveliness. Just two months ago, she had gone to Bombay to participate in the 200^th Anniversary of the American Marathi Mission, the organisation in whose service she had spent practically her entire life.

I have known her since the fifties when I was studying in St. Peter’s, Panchgani. My father was a doctor, and we would often visit her when she was still Dr. Rosie Smith. I will always be grateful to her for having lent me a book titled “The Universe and Dr. Einstein”. That book inspired me to go on to study Relativity, and Quantum Theory.

In my post titled “The Mission Hospital, Wai”, (dated 11/10/2011), I had referred to Dr. Moses as the soul of the Hospital. The truth of this was evident in all the eulogies one heard. People from all walks of life had something nice to say about her. It is difficult to imagine the Hospital without her, but life moves on, and all good things come to an end. Rather than mourn, we should celebrate this noble life, and be grateful that we had the privilege to breathe the air around this legend.