Episodes and Encounters that Shaped My Life
Editor’s note: This chapter contains extracts from various periods of Ambiavagar’s life. I have collated them into a single chapter to provide insights into the influences in his life.
1917 (Aged 12) Kajang
Bullying
Mr. Oswald my teacher in Standard 3 was kind, tolerant, understanding, protective and helpful. A big, older boy, a bully by the name of Tatparanandom took an immediate dislike to me. He would tease and push me during the break. One day, I could not stand his bullying and fought back, but then I was badly beaten up. Mr. Oswald came to know about it. He called up the boy, and spoke to him sternly. After that, he left me alone. However, he found an indirect way to retaliate. As a member of the school cricket team, he would interrupt my game when I played with younger boys on a small practice pitch and bowl fast at me, not to me, while I was batting. If the ball hit me, he laughed.
Chanan Singh coached me how to deal with bullying
Another bully was a fellow commuter Sikh boy who was big in stature and a good wrestler. He was the son of a goldsmith, which was considered an “inferior caste”. I think he became a bully to compensate for this. First, he tried to bully another commuter, a big but shy and apparently timid Tamil boy nicknamed “Girlie” because of his demeanour. The bully derived little fun from bullying “Girlie” because he submitted to all teasing. Therefore, he turned his attention on me. One day, he tripped me up at the Kajang station while waiting for the train. He laughed at my fall and that provoked me into punching him. Next thing I knew, I was regaining consciousness on the train. A wrestling tackle had brought me down. My head struck the concrete platform and I lost consciousness. Chanan Singh, with help from others, carried me onto the train. I felt very sheepish. Chanan Singh consoled me, saying that I had been unfortunate to strike my head on the platform. The next day, after we boarded the train, Chanan Singh slipped a small knuckle-duster into my hand and told me to challenge the bully to a fight. Following his advice, as he was rising from his seat, I hit him as hard as I could on the temple with the duster. The bully sat down with a groan, clutching his head. The following day, Chanan Singh and the bully missed our regular train and my friend arrived late at school. He had bruises on his face and hands. The bully had confronted him on his way to the station. They wrestled for a long time until Chanan Singh won the fight, rendering his enemy unconscious. He waited for him to regain consciousness and asked him whether he wanted to wrestle any more. The bully was absent from school for a day or two and when he reappeared his face showed evidence of the battering he had received. Most of us sniggered at him but the “Girlie” did not. The bully seemed to think he was too scared to join us in sniggering. On the way home, he pushed “Girlie” into an earthen drain beside the road and laughed as he scrambled out. To everyone’s surprise, “Girlie” flew at him like a hurricane, brought him down into the drain, sat on his stomach and buffeted him like a storm rocking a fallen sapling. His face was bloody, his lips swollen and his eyes were nearly shut. When the storm subsided, the bully needed help to get out of the drain. We enjoyed the situation and clapped our hands. “Girlie” became a hero. Nobody ever again called him “Girlie” and the bully became tame and withdrawn. Later we learnt that “Girlie’s” father had taught him wrestling and warned him to avoid fights.
The reckless streak in me
I recall two illustrative episodes.
1917 (aged 12) Kajang: Asleep on the train
Living with Kumarasingam, my craze for cricket often landed me in trouble. Whenever I played in an inter-class match, I missed the 4pm train home and returned home only at 8.30 pm. I was prepared to take the resulting punishment as best as I could. On one occasion, I fell asleep on the train, and missed my stop at Kajang. The next stop was Seremban. The conductor demanded additional train fare but I had no money. The conductor said that he would have to hand me over to the stationmaster at Seremban. I should have realised that would be the best solution to my predicament, but I feared being handed over to the police. I sneaked into the goods compartment of the third class carriage and hid between boxes. When the train slowed down to stop at the Seremban station, I resorted to a skill I had learnt from other boys – getting off a moving train. In my haste, I jumped out too soon and went tumbling, sustaining bruises and scratches.
That was not the end of my troubles. I was terribly hungry but had no money for food. I knew no one in Seremban but could not hide in the railway station. I had to get out. Not realising that if I walked some way back along the line I would stay clear of the station fence, so I hastily scaled the wooden fence. This proved to be painful, as barbed wire lines on the top of the fence caught and tore my clothes. I dropped to the other side with a torn coat and singlet and a scratched back. I walked some distance along a road hoping to find a coffee shop or an eating house where I could beg for some food. However, by this time I was extremely drained and discouraged. I decided to wait four hours for the next train. I found the darkest spot outside the railway station and lay down on the hard floor. In spite of my tormenting hunger, I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. I awoke to the sound of people coming to the station. Walking along the fence to a safe spot, I climbed over the fence, hid behind some stationary goods vehicles, and climbed into a third class coach. I showed my train student pass for travel between Kajang and Kuala Lumpur, and told the conductor my plight and begged for help. He saw my sorry state, felt pity for me and not only allowed me to travel free but gave me some bread and a glass of water. I felt infinitely grateful to that kind Samaritan. At Kajang, I crept home fearing a real skinning, stole up the staircase into the bathroom and then into the kitchen to look for remnants of food. It was almost 6 am. Sister-in-law had just awoken. She asked me what had happened when she saw me with torn clothes, bruises and scratches and soon began laughing. Kumarasingam, walked in, and heard my story from her. I began to tremble with fear of getting a beating; but to my great relief, he also started laughing and walked away. I was indeed surprised that he appeared to understand that I had been punished enough.
1919 (Aged 14) Kuala Lumpur. World War I brushes my horizon
I had little awareness of the ongoing World War I. No one spoke about it. I did hear old Mr. Muthiah, tell Kumarasingam in 1917 that the Germans had sunk a British ship and that many lives had been lost. I wondered why, but dared not ask for any detail. During my stay with the Sivagurus, I was introduced to few facts about the War. Each of us had a ration card for rice and sugar entitling us to our portions. This gave me an inkling of how the war had caused a worldwide shortage of essential goods. One day, there was an announcement in school that the H.M.S. Malaya was in Port Swettenham and all pupils could get a free train ride to see the ship. We attended a talk that included the causes of the War and its effects on the countries involved. I was shocked but thought it wrong for any country to conquer and rule any other country and felt they deserved what they got. I did not understand why non-involved countries should feel any ill effects. Neither did I understand why Malaya had donated a war ship to Britain, and what part the ship had played in the War. Although confused about the War, I could not be bothered to think about it or know anything further. However, the prospect of visiting a battleship was exciting. Impulsive and irresponsible, I set out on the adventure in a high-spirited, carefree manner, without any friends and without giving any thought as to how I would manage without lunch or money. I did not think of informing my host family or finding out how long it would take to return home. I enjoyed the train journey and the guided tour of the battle ship. Suddenly hunger struck me, but there was no choice but to grin and bear it. My courageous smile expired early. The crowd waiting to return to K.L. was so large that I just managed to catch the last train. Almost fainting with hunger and weariness, I had to struggle on foot from the railway station to my home in Circular Road. Reaching home at 3am, I found everyone asleep. My hosts, knowing I could be a “madcap” guessed where I had gone, and no one was worried, nor did they wait for me. I lit a candle and looked for any remnant food, and ate every tiny bit I could scrape off my plate with great relish! It was a memorable lesson! A war causes privation and suffering, but sometimes, so does a rash adventure.
Glimpses of the Future
Kajang (aged 12-13): Palm reader predicts my life pattern
One morning, on my way to the railway station, I noted a stranger, a Sikh, staring hard at me. Suddenly he crossed the road, stopped in front of me, and in a gentle voice asked me to show him my palm. I was mesmerised into holding out my palms. Realising that he was a fortuneteller, I said, “I have no money to pay you.”
“I know that and I won’t ask you for any money. I saw from your face and eyes that you are a very interesting lad and wanted to look into your life. I see that you have had misfortune from birth, and you have had an unhappy life. It will continue to be unhappy for some more years, but you will get a good job. You will rise high up, marry well, enjoy success and prominence, and have a long life. However, your old age will not be very happy. Do not let worry and unhappiness get the better of you. All of us have to accept life as it comes to us. It’s God’s will.”
As suddenly as he had accosted me, he left before I could say anything.
The substance of his message burnt into my memory. Often, I have recalled it, although for a long time I tried to dismiss it as fiction or invention based on gossip. However, deep in my heart I believe that somehow, the man was able to read my life. In general, he was accurate.
Kuala Lumpur 1919: First contact with the Kandiah family – my future in-laws
In 1919, I had my first encounter with the Kandiah family who were destined to become my in-laws. Thambirajah Kandiah was my young friend. He lived in a large house in a five-acre compound on a lane off Circular Road, very near the semi-detached house where I lived. I first met him on a nearby field. Subsequently, I went to his house on an errand to buy betel leaves. Thambirajah’s mother gave me a cordial reception and treated me as a guest and not a mere errand boy. I was pleasantly surprised. She was interested in my antecedents and her interest touched my heart. I saw Thambirajah’s four sisters playing outside, and one of them went to fetch the betel leaf from behind the house. Little did I realise that one of those sisters would become my wife! I felt encouraged by Thambirajah’s mother’s attitude. I invited him to play with my group of friends. After less than a year, I had to move away from the Circular Road house and almost forgot Thambirajah until 10 years later in 1929, when I met him in Raffles College. Both of us played cricket and we became closer. He was a popular guy. One incident that stands out in my memory. I injured my right hand quite badly fielding a shot, and therefore could not manage to shave. Before going to class, he took me to his cubicle and gave me a shave. Such acts demonstrated the reason he is so popular!
Disappointment in my so-called relatives
Several episodes illustrates my disappointment and disillusion about my relatives. I will share two in particular that stand out in my memory.
Singapore 1924-27 (aged 19+)
Dr. Subramaniam, who was Kumarasingam’s brother-in-law, had received help from Kumarasingam when he was a Medical Student. He became a Pathologist, and earned a good salary. Yet when Kumarasingam sent me to live with him in 1924, he demanded payment from me for board and lodging. I was disappointed. The board and lodging he gave me would not have eaten much into his pocket. My first resolution on beginning to work was to save money and repay the debt quickly. When I repaid him a few years later, I was glad that he took the money because I felt free of any obligation to him. When I decided to marry Mangalam, I did not ask her father to speak to him for approval or blessing. However, he was annoyed and refused to attend the wedding. Subsequently, when he found that I was getting on well in my profession he proudly claimed relationship with me. An occasion that remains in my memory is a cricket match in which I played for the Ceylon Sports Club in our annual encounter against the TPCA. We looked very certain to lose when I went in to bat. The captain told me to play defensively, keep intact my wicket and let Muthukumaru score the runs. He ‘stood on one leg’ saying that he would continue like that until I was called out. Well, Muthu and I remained unbeaten until we had scored over a hundred runs to win the match. Subramaniam ran on to the field with another official to chair me to the pavilion!
Ceylon 1952: Rejection by Uncle Shanmugam
I visited Sandilipay village in 1952, and found that most of the structures I remembered had disappeared. I wanted to re-establish contact with Uncle Shanmugam who used to take me to his farm when I was a child. When I called on him, he was not cordial, and asked in unfriendly tones why I wanted to see him. I could not understand it. In my mind, I speculated whether he was offended that I had not been his guest or whether he had expected me to marry one of his daughters. (It was customary to marry maternal cousins for the sake of retaining dowry property). He had been affectionate during my childhood and I had intended to give him some money. However, assuming that he would reject it, I withheld it and did not attempt any further communication.
Subsequently, I learnt that he was not on speaking terms with his elder brother who was more successful in life, and had two doctor sons and a daughter married to an engineer. Possibly, he was bitter about those relatives who had done better in life than he. Kumarasingam had transferred to him all the properties he and I had jointly inherited from my mother. I could neither understand nor accept his behaviour.
One of his daughters, who was married with two or three children lived in a tiny hovel nearby. Two little sons, entirely unclad, were playing about and accepted with joy the biscuits and chocolates I gave them. Their shabbily-clad mother accepted with a smile the sari I gave her. Later in the day, possibly on her husband’s suggestion, she called to speak to me. I did not keep track of that family after that encounter.
While my relatives disappointed me, my genuine friends were a joy and rock in my life. Later chapters give several examples of their loyalty and generosity.
Reflections on my own personality and its development
In my youth, I had no siblings and few children of my age with whom I could interact emotionally and intellectually. My life was dull. This had adverse effects on my life for I failed to cultivate many friends. I was ignorant of the fact that in human relationships, one has to be prepared to give and take to lead a happy life. Another deficiency was my complete lack of understanding of the workings of the female mind. This was made worse by the society in my young days that did not permit males and females to mix as companions or friends. Thus, eventually I took a long time to adjust my way of life with that of my wife’s. Worse still, was that my youth was characterised by a lack of appropriate adult affection, influence, guidance and correction in the development of my character. Fortunately, some teachers, companions and friends had greatly corrective effects on me. However, my relationships were sometimes lop-sided and unpredictable. Some of my responses made me lose valuable friends. I have been lucky to retain a few deeply-rooted friends who forgave my unpredictable ways and could look past them
Prof Sandosham, Ambi, Dr Kandiah, and Chanan Singh. A reunion of lifelong friends. Organized by Indra and Pathmanathan in the 1980s.
I was compelled to be self-reliant. This, however, made me even more independent minded, and able to express my views in a forthright manner at meetings. Thus, several agencies elected me to serve on committees, to edit magazines and become a Chairman or President. If, however, I noticed the elected president ignored resolutions passed at general meetings and sought popularity by bowing to vociferous opponents, I kept away from committee meetings. This happened at the Ceylon Sports Club and the Singapore Teachers’ Association.
A tragic loss of a good friend 1926-27
Chris was the first of my several friends who died tragically. We graduated together as teachers. He rejected my suggestion that he apply for a scholarship to Raffles College, and became a teacher when I went to College. He died tragically and I was shocked to learn of it long after his death. He was a keen cyclist. Coming down the slope of Florence Road into Upper Serangoon Road, his brakes did not function. A ‘mosquito’ bus ran over him. He was carried away unconscious with multiple injuries to Tan Tock Seng Hospital. He had no identification papers, and there was no vacant bed in any of the wards. The hospital placed him in the ward for tuberculosis patients. By the time his family found him, he had been exposed too long to infection. In his weakened condition, he picked up T.B. and passed away in a few weeks.