My teen years
From the age of 11 until age 28, I shuttled between various dwellings and living arrangements, with no family or home to call my own. At best, I was a burden to my stepbrother, who was my guardian. He considered it his responsibility to raise me to get sufficiently ‘educated’ to earn a living for myself. I had no nurturing influence from those related to me. However, I learnt the lessons of life and enjoyed deep and lasting friendships from the friends or acquaintances that fate threw in my path.
In this chapter, I provide a summary of my living arrangements throughout my school years, and elaborate on the experiences and escapades that stand out in my memory, and shaped my personality. A lifelong love affair with sporting activities is a thread that winds its way through all my years. The next chapter gives you a picture of my life at school during this period.
Move to Kajang: 1917 (aged 11-12)
Living with Kumarasingam’s family living in the flat above the post office, under Kumarasingam’s regime of terror. I gained a lifelong friend in Chanan Singh
Boarding in a hut with the postman Chelliah’s family. Poor but with freedom to explore simple pleasures.
Boarding with medical assistant Sivaguru’s family. Introduction to a different set of family dynamics.
Boarding with cricket crazy bachelors and learning some of life’s hard lessons.
Boarding with Dr Ponniah’s family who had little interest or influence in my lifestyle.
Shock at failing the Junior Cambridge Examination.
Boarding in Lanka Boarding House with clerk Murugesu who motivated and supported my changed attitude towards studies.
Lodged with Dr Subramaniam with fellow boarders Retnasabapathy and Chan Jim Swee who became close and supportive friends.
Kumarasingam gained a promotion as Assistant Post Master and was transferred to Kajang. His apartment was on the first floor of the Post Office. It was very spacious with three large bedrooms. A wide veranda on two sides of those rooms served as living area, a kitchen, a servant’s room and a bathroom. A staircase at the back led to a yard, and beyond it was the toilet. To use the toilet at night we had to carry a hurricane lamp. If it rained, we also needed an umbrella. In heavy rain, it was impossible to avoid getting wet because the lavatory was so tiny it was impossible to go in holding an umbrella.
The staircase at the back enabled me to go out unseen by my brother to the Broderick Club field opposite the post office. The staircase was out of view from his office in the front. There I learnt to play cricket with Chanan Singh who had befriended me during our joint train commutes to school. Cricket became my greatest joy. I even lost my lower incisors knocked out by a ball that kicked up from the pitch. For some time, Kumarasingam did not know about my ‘addiction’. When he did find out, he forbade me ever playing cricket or any other game. I ignored his order and continued sneaking away to enjoy the forbidden pleasure. Occasionally he caught me and gave me a thrashing, but my enjoyment of cricket was such that I became indifferent to the beating. On Saturdays and school holidays, my punishment was being made to stand with my head under an old table placed in the open area, under the scorching sun, where my brother could see me from his office.
As a variation to cricket, we played football. However, I had no skill at it. I had my legs kicked as often as I kicked the ball. I also joined some boys at the Langat River near the bridge to learn to swim. However, I never learnt the correct swimming strokes and wondered if people on the bridge laughed at me.
The yard was a boon. I converted it into a vegetable garden. My sister-in-law encouraged and helped me and we became companions. I grew long beans, snake gourd, lady’s fingers, bitter gourd, brinjals and green chilies. I loved eating lady’s fingers fresh from the plants.
Walking down memory lane
Ambiavagar visited the Kajang Post office in 2000. The apartment in which he lived in 1917-18 was on the first floor. The open veranda that wrapped around the building is now enclosed.
Commuting by Train
In the New Year of 1917, I had to travel by train from Kajang to school in Kuala Lumpur. The train schedule was such that I had to catch the express train that passed through Kajang at 6.15am. Before setting out for school, I had to prepare breakfast for the family i.e. make thosai and grind spices for cooking before leaving for the train. Thus, I had to be off my sleeping mat by 4am. However, I enjoyed commuting by train. I made three good friends during those train journeys.
Chanan Singh, my best friend
One of them, Chanan Singh, became my closest friend and remained in contact with me until he died in old age. He was a year younger than I was, but much taller and stronger. He lived with his father in Main Street, very close to my Uncle’s house. He was an only child and his father encouraged our friendship. Strangely, Kumarasingam he did not object to my friendship with Chanan Singh or my visiting him. Frequently, on the way home from the railway station Chanan Singh would stop at a liquor shop, the only place that sold chilled lemonade, and insist on sharing his favourite drink with me. On the first occasion, I was embarrassed that I could not reciprocate his treat. I never had any money. I told him that I had no pocket money and my secret source were the few coins, I picked from Kuamarsingam’s pocket. He laughed. (See Chapter 7 for more information about my friendship with Chanan Singh).
Parsimonious meals and snacks
School hours were from 8 am until 2.40pm, with a lunch break from 12 to 1 pm. Kumarasingam arranged for me to have lunch at a former neighbour’s house in Kuala Lumpur. My parsimonious host bought the cheapest rice on the market. It was rich in foreign matter like grains of sand, hair and worms. Being lazy, she cooked it with all the foreign matter in it. I was able to tolerate grains of sand and hair but not worms. I stopped going for lunch but did not dare tell my brother or sister-in-law about it. To allay my hunger at lunchtime I stole half-cent and one cent coins from Kuamarsingam’s pocket to buy little snacks of fried soya bean cakes or dried squid. I think my sister-in-law knew about it and covered for me saying that she had taken the money. Usually I reached home at 6pm, travelling by train from Kuala Lumpur to Kajang, feeling very hungry and so weak that I would vomit bile.
My sister-in-law’s brother Subramaniam was a medical student who holidayed with us during a Medical College vacation. On one occasion, he caught me in the act of steeling the coins and reported to Kumarasingam who gave me a thrashing. My sister-in-law discovered why I had not been going for lunch, and began giving me a few coins each school day. I believe her husband gave her permission to do this.
My sister-in-law was fond of having wanton mee (noodles) before bedtime, and often would send me to buy her a bowl from a hawker when her husband was asleep. This hawker had a great reputation that drew customers even from Kuala Lumpur. I suppose Kumarasingam did not approve of such snacks. My sister-in-law and I became partners in this wonderful deception. She shared her clandestine noodles with me and did not give away my secret of sneaking out by the back stairs to the playing field. In March, my sister-in-law left for Jaffna to have her first baby, and I lost my ally.
Violent-tempered Kumarasingam
Kumarasingam now had all the time after work to visit Mother in hospital at Kuala Lumpur and then tutor me. He had a history of violence. In a previous incident, quarreling with a rickshaw-puller over the fare, he had pushed the man, who fell and hit his head on a stone pillar and died. Kumarasingam was charged with manslaughter but got off scot-free. Subsequently, he gave up his former amusements of drinking with friends and playing cards to focus on ‘tutoring’ me.
I suffered much from his severe beating for playing and not studying to his satisfaction. If I made a mistake in my reading or spelling, I had to stand on one foot and if it came down, he hit me in that leg to make it go up. The tuition was always in the veranda. The p
Kumarasingam now had all the time after work to visit my mother in hospital at Kuala Lumpur and then tutor me. He had a history of violence. In a previous incident, quarreling with a rickshaw-puller over the fare, he had pushed the man, who fell and hit his head on a stone pillar and died. Kumarasingam was charged with manslaughter but got off scot-free. Subsequently, he gave up his former amusements of drinking with friends and playing cards to focus on ‘tutoring’ me.
I suffered much from his severe beating for playing and not studying to his satisfaction. If I made a mistake in my reading or spelling, I had to stand on one foot and if it came down, he hit me in that leg to make it go up. The tuition was always in the veranda. The post office building was only a hundred yards from the police station where there was an English police inspector. Most people held him in much awe, but I decided to try to enlist his help. Every time Kumarasingam laid his walking stick on me, I cried loudly begging him not to kill me. Sure enough, one late evening, the inspector thundered up the wooden staircase in his heavy boots and ordered him not to beat a helpless little boy with such a large walking stick. He even told Kumarasingam that he should leave all teaching to my school and go to the club nearby to relax with friends. My brother said nothing, but nodded his head. It was sweet victory!
I have wondered much about discipline as a tool to make a child study and play less. I recall an elderly schoolmaster who beat his son every evening while trying to teach him. That boy did pass his School Certificate Examination and obtain admission to Raffles College. He became Honorary Treasurer of the Students’ Association. He misappropriated the Association’s funds and was dismissed from the College. I wonder if his childhood disciplining method affected his adult behaviour.
Defiance
It was at the age of 13 I finally rebelled. When Kumarasingam picked up his walking stick to hit me. I drew back and told him that his teaching was not helping me and that I could do better without it. Taken aback, he said, “Oh! I’ll stop teaching you but if you fail at the end of the year I’ll stop your schooling and send you to work as a house servant!” From that day on, he left me alone. I not only passed my school exam and even improved my rank in class. He refused to sign my report book saying that I must have copied to get such results. I took the report book to my teacher and explained why it was not signed. Mr. Oswald wrote a letter that I had indeed improved a great deal with the tuition he himself had been giving me and that my results were genuine. Kumarasingam did not comment on my secrecy in not telling him about Mr. Oswald’s help and signed the report book. (More about Mr. Oswald in the next chapter).
Reflections on Kuamarsingam’s care
On reflection, I think I was indeed too playful and neglected my studies. He was doing a duty and he did it well. I wonder if I would have amounted to anything without his cane. I thought he never felt any affection for me. However, after my mother died, and I fell ill and was at the point of death, my brother was so worried that he sat beside me for long stretches of time looking after me. I became convinced that he did have a heart. After all, I was only a half-brother. Being only a half educated person and a lowly paid postal clerk, he could not afford to buy clothes or shoes for me and I went to school bare footed, wearing a loin cloth and a singlet and without pocket money.
Boarding in Kajang with the Chelliahs: 1918 (age 13-14)
In 1918 Kumarasingam, received a promotion to become postmaster at Semeniyih, a smaller post office, six miles away. Since there was no public transport between Kajang and Semeniyih, I became a boarder with postman Chelliah’s family in Kajang. Although Kumarasingam instructed Chelliah to exercise discipline over me, I had full freedom of movement. I think his family disliked how Kumarasingam treated me. I entertained Chelliah’s mother and wife with stories I had read, and they pampered and spoilt me.
The house was a hut, situated beside the road, was close to a swamp between Langat River and the road. Feeble gaslights lit the road to their house at distant intervals. Accommodation within was too limited for the family of four and me. Chelliah and his wife slept in a room that had a double bed that practically filled the room. His mother slept on a mat in the living area, which also had a desk and a stool for my studies. I slept with another boy in the veranda that was open to the road. Our beds were narrow benches in the open veranda placed along the wall and we lay head to head. My few clothes lay in a little box beside the desk, with my books on it. During rainy weather, centipedes and ants crept about the floor and into my clothes and books. My companion told myths, fables and superstitions. One of them was about a ghost that haunted an old tree mid-way between the railway station and our dwelling. According to him, it had struck down people who foolishly walked by the tree past midnight. Occasionally on very dark nights, it would walk past the hut, but harm no one. I laughed at him for his believing in such a ridiculous story. One night when it was pitch dark he shook me out of my sleep, put his hand over my mouth and pointed to the road where there was a glimmer of light from a distant gas lamp, He whispered “There, the ghost!” I pulled off his hand from my mouth and said, “I see nothing!” His comment was “Some people cannot see ghosts!”
My days of strict control and fear of punishment had ended. Adventurous days had set in. I began to enjoy total freedom and the admiration of an illiterate family because I was a student, able to talk in Tamil and tell stories I had read in English. Strangely, although I indulged in a lot of play and wasted much time having fun, I did not neglect my studies.
Was there some stirring of a sense of responsibility? Did I want to prove that, left to my own devices I would not make a fool of myself? Did my being placed on a pedestal by my host family make me feel that I should prove to be worthy of that position?
Playtime and vacations
My neighbour, Arunalasiapoo, went to school with me. He became my companion to explore the swamp, looking at exotic plants and birds. Numerous bats hung from wild fruit trees. I learnt to deal with leeches on our legs. Although we hated the taste, we chewed tobacco leaves to spit the juice on the leeches. We trapped fighting fish in a storm drain and had fun putting them in bottles to fight against one another. Arunalasiapoo, an excellent shot with the catapult could bring down mangoes and flowers by hitting at the stalks without damaging the fruit or flower. I tried to learn from him, but the best I could do was to smash a fruit. He could make and fly different kinds of kites but mine always nose-dived into the ground. At cricket, he was the school star bowler while Chanan Singh was the star batsman. Until much later, I was good enough only for the class team. I felt inferior to both of them in physical prowess but superior to them at studies. That could have been another contributing factor in motivating me to pay some attention to my school books.
When school vacation arrived, I walked six miles to Semeniyih to spend the month with Kumarasingam, and his family. The narrow, rugged, tarred, hot and dusty road had aprons made bare by vehicles. It wound through hills that were covered with jungles and rubber estates, but the sides of the road were devoid of trees and shade. It was not a pleasant route for a walking journey. I had to rest from time to time in the shade of trees off the road before reaching my destination. Even so, it was an adventure and I felt proud that I made the journey. My sister-in-law asked why I had not thumbed a lift from one of the lorries or bullock carts that passed me. I had no answer. I have always felt reluctant to ask for help in any circumstance for fear that I would be snubbed.
During school vacations, I assisted my sister-in-law in the kitchen, played with the two young dogs and Kumarasingam’s children and read storybooks I had borrowed from friends. Occasionally I ‘swam’ in a mini waterfall in a stream some distance away. Actually, I merely paddled in the clear, cool refreshing water and imagined I was swimming and that I was part of the jungle around me. Another activity was to join several Malay boys to play soccer. The first few times they had fun at my expense, kicking me every time I touched the ball but soon they became cordial. Strangely, Kumarasingam did not forbid my amusements and my fear of him waned.
I began to reflect that, when Kumarasingam brought my mother and me to Kuala Lumpur, he was only a postal clerk, drawing a small salary. He had to support his own family. I must have been a burden to him especially as he was mostly posted to small towns where there were no schools and I had to stay in boarding houses in Kuala Lumpur or with friends in Kajang. I began to realise that I should be grateful to him and make good use of the chance to be educated.
Boarding with the Sivagurus in Kuala Lumpur: 1919
In mid-1919, I was 14 years old and in Standard five. Kumarasingam moved me to Kuala Lumpur to live with the Sivagurus who were relatives of his wife. Sivaguru was a dresser (male nurse) at the hospital and the family lived in a semi-detached house in Circular Road, (now renamed Jalan Tun Razak), at its junction with a lane (now Jalan Kuantan). The main house stood on four-foot high pillars, had two rooms with living accommodation and a wraparound verandah, while the back steps led to the kitchen and a storeroom that housed the family poultry at night. It was the most comfortable accommodation I had experienced to date. The family were of better status, and meals included fish, chicken or eggs and vegetables. Behind the house, two milking cows were tethered at night.
I did not need to waste time commuting by train. My school was in the same town. I could play cricket close to the house, and enjoy games without a long train journey. I made many new friends.
The household consisted of Sivaguru, his wife, a daughter, a six year old son, his mother-in-law, Murugesu, a young mechanic working at the Sentul railway workshop, and four boarders, Sivam, brothers Retnasabapathy and Selvadurai and myself. Mr. Sivaguru, his family of three and his mother-in-law slept in the room nearest to the kitchen. The four of us boys slept in the front room and Murugesu, the mechanic, slept in the veranda. The boarders became my companions. Retnasabapathy, also a pupil in Standard five, attended Victoria Institution. He was reputed to be a model pupil and therefore expected to be a good influence on me.
One night, thieves who entered the house through the veranda stole the poultry. The boys decided to bar the way to the store so all five of us slept in the verandah to obstruct the way. However, awakened by excited noises from the poultry, we ran out only to see a figure dash out by the kitchen door. We felt foolish. The thief must have walked over all five of us, without awaking anyone.
In the 1990s, Ambiavagar walked down memory lane with his daughter Indra, and visited the house in which he boarded with the Sivagurus in 1919.
I had reached puberty and sexual matters were questions in my mind. For example, the custom in my community of removing girls from school when they reached puberty to ensure their virtue and virginity puzzled me. Yet they allowed a teenage girl to sleep in the same room as her parents. We boys had overheard the older women discussing when to stop the girl’s schooling. We often heard the mother-in-law supporting her daughter in the quarrels between the married couple. Adult behaviour was enigmatic!
I felt sorry for poor Sivam. He was like a slave to the family. He had to wake up early, get milk bottles ready, collect the cow dung, let out the poultry and tidy up their room, slice onions, garlic and vegetables for the day’s cooking and deliver milk before leaving for school. After school, he had to feed the cows and the poultry and deliver the evening milk, and go to the hospital ward where Mr. Sivaguru worked to collect various food. He did not have any time for play. Yet he coped with his studies, passed his exams and gained employment as a clerk while the children of the Sivagurus were school dropouts. The other three of us boarders were not expected to do any work other than buying our rationed rice and sugar. We were free to play as much as we liked. Brothers Retnasabapathy and Selvadurai attended tuition classes arranged by their father who lived in Kampar. They allowed me to sit with them but the tutor gave me no attention because I paid nothing.
We played cricket with Lall Singh but could never bowl him out. We had to run him out, stump him out or catch him out. He became the best cricketer Malaya or Singapore produced, and was selected to play for India in the Tests against England.
Return to Kajang 1921: Lodgings with sports-crazy colleagues
Later during that year, Mr. Sivaguru retired and I returned to Kajang to live with a distant cousin Kanagasabai, a dresser (medical assistant) at the Kajang hospital. He had government housing behind the hospital. Being a bachelor, he shared his house with three other bachelors. They were, Arulsamy, Sivalingam and Vaithilingam (these are not their real names). Arulsamy was a good footballer and played in the Selangor soccer league for T.P.C.A., which was one of the two top teams in the league. Sivalingam was a good marathon runner, who participated in the first marathon between Kuala Lumpur and Seremban. He was leading by a long margin. When told by one of the judges at the Mantin Pass that he had a big lead, he sat in the shade of a tree to take a drink, fell asleep and lost the race. Ever after, that everyone told him ad nauseam the fable of the hare and the tortoise. The third bachelor, Vaithilingam, was stout and clumsy, and was the butt of jokes for Arulsamy and Sivalingam. He decided to take vigorous exercise regularly and jog long distances. He persuaded me to exercise with clubs and jog regularly. This was in addition to my boxing and cricket! Kanagasabai was an exception to this sports-crazy group. He was an avid reader especially of medical books of which he had a good stock.
Questions about sex had begun to occupy my mind. In Kuala Lumpur, I had read two books -one about what a boy should know and the other about what a girl should know. One night, in Kajang, I was shocked to see Arulsamy and Sivalingam, whom I admired, bring a Malay prostitute to their room. I was with Vaithilingam. He was like an elder brother to me. He talked to me about foolish young men who destroyed their lives and character by sleeping with prostitutes. He finished off with the prophecy that the two of them would get VD. I had already seen, in my cousin’s library, quite a few books on venereal diseases with horrifying illustrations. After Vaithilingam’s lecture, I read them in my cousin’s absence and became convinced that he have good advice. I began to admire the clumsy Vaithilingam and to feel ashamed of the two great sportsmen. Not long afterwards, the great soccer player disappeared; he was no more in the T.P.C.A. team. Vaithilingam explained that he was stricken with syphilis, that he had gone into a hospital in Ipoh for treatment, had resigned from work and would probably never come back. Sivalingam took leave from work and returned after a few days. The formerly clumsy Vaithilingam became a sturdy middle distance athlete and won a few minor competitions. (This was not the Vaithilingam from the M.B.S. who later became a national athletic hero.)
Reflections on my experiences
My education in Kuala Lumpur was conditioned by the dedication of my teachers, my environment and my social circles. Even the faults in those around me were educational experiences because I realised that I should avoid them. The fate of the two bachelors in the mess who were good athletes but succumbed to sexually transmitted infections were visual examples to warn me.