Incorrect date of birth
In September 1916, my uncle, Ponnampalam, who didn’t know my date of birth, registered me at the Methodist Boys’ School, Kuala Lumpur and gave my date of birth as 4th July, 1907. I myself did not know my date of birth. Two years later, my sister-in-law found a precious palmyra leaf record of my birth among things my mother left with her. I now knew my actual date of birth was 20th October 1905, but no one took the trouble to change the school records. I did not know the importance of rectifying the error. When I was older, I was far too ashamed to explain the origin of the error.
Methodist Boys’ School (fondly known as MBS)
In 1916, aged 10, I was placed in Standard 3 in MBS. This was my age-appropriate class, but I was like a fish thrown on the beach by a huge wave. I could not understand any lesson and sat in the class feeling rather like a dummy. Mr. Oswald, my teacher, saw how helpless I was and decided to rescue me. At lunch break, speaking in Tamil and English, he discovered that I was unfit for the class. He kindly brought me the first English reader and spent every lunch break teaching me with great patience how to read and how to build up my vocabulary. He advised me to practice reading the same lessons repeatedly, and to concentrate on learning the language. He also told me that I would have to remain in Standard 3 the following year but that he would help me to pass. I felt an immediate respect and liking for Mr. Oswald and was determined to do my best, but kept it a secret from Kumarasingam. Outwardly, I remained deferential to him, but in my mind, I had no respect for my uncle. My fear of him was too deep. Moreover, I was very dependent on him. Except for my uncle in Lahat, who was too far away, I had no one to whom I could turn.
Although I was progressing, I did not pass Standard 3 that year and had to repeat it in 1917. At the end of the school year, when brother learnt that I was to be retained in Standard three he called me all kinds of names and gave me a beating.
During a school vacation Retnasabapathy, my sister-in-law’s cousin, visited us bringing storybooks. I had not read any so far. The two books that I remember to this day – Tom Thumb and Alice in Wonderland -were my first introduction to fiction. I became enthralled with reading storybooks secretly because my brother forbade me from wasting time reading them. Additionally, soccer serials in a weekly periodical kept me spellbound. Retnasabapathy had brought a pile of back numbers. Although I neglected school homework and the textbooks, the reading habit that I cultivated laid the foundation for my English language. It sharpened my intelligence, made me listen with care and understanding to the teaching in school and thus pass all my exams until I took my Junior Cambridge exam in 1922.
Standard Four: Comedy at School
1918 saw me in Standard 4 at age 13. Many of my classmates were young men who had failed the government clerical service exam held at the end of Standard 4 that would enable them to enter the clerical service. Some of them were married and a few were in the school soccer team, contributing to making it one of the best school soccer teams.
Our teacher was Mr. Arumugam. He was a mountain of a man, well over six feet, nicknamed Gunong Tahan, and seemed 10 feet tall to me. He was reputedly the best fundraiser for the Methodist Mission. As a teacher, he was the worst I ever came across. However, he was lovable and kindly. He walked everywhere with a rolling gait carrying a huge black umbrella. Most students could not understand his teaching of Arithmetic nor did his Tamil accent. He was fond of testing us at spelling and the meaning of words. He would begin by pitching his questions at the bigger boys at the back and progress to the smaller pupils in front. When a small pupil failed to give the right meaning or spelling he would get a tight slap and a bigger pupil at the back would shout, “You coward, Sir, you no slap big boys, you slap small boys.”
Mr. Arumugam would shout “You badava (rascal), I no coward, I kill you!” and go for him, but the guy would run around between the rows of seats and even into the veranda to the accompaniment of our boisterous laughter. Panting, Mr. Arumugam would stop and say, “See who coward! You run and run, you afraid I kill you!” The lesson would resume with Mr. Arumugam speaking better English.
Later in the year, our class transferred from the first to the ground floor, next to the Principal’s office. The bigger boys planned a variation to the same comedy. When he slapped the small boy, he fell to the ground and pretended to have passed out.
“Sir, you have killed him. Sir, the Principal will come.”
“No, the boy has fainted”.
“Give money for ice Sir; we shut the doors, Sir,” were the various cries.
The boys shut the doors next to the Principal’s office and the teacher gave them money for ice. Meanwhile some boys were fanning the boy on the floor with exercise books or sheets of paper. Mr. Arumugam paced about looking worried and listening for the Principal’s footsteps. The boy who had gone for ice was busy enjoying a snack. Mr. Arumugam, smelling a rat, picked up the boy who was supposed to have fainted, and found him looking at him with a smile. The whole class burst out laughing. Mr. Arumugam joined in the laughter; the boy who had gone for the ice returned with it, to have it thrown into his face.
There were several other comic scenes but I cannot recall them. I didn’t make much progress in my studies but earned my promotion to Standard Five
Malaria
I used to sleep bare-bodied on a plain mat without a pillow or blanket in the room nearest to the kitchen while my brother and his wife slept under a mosquito net in the next room. Ponnampalam, who had come to work at the Kajang rubber factory, slept under a net, on a bed in the room nearest to the road. The part-time cook also slept under a net in his room beside the kitchen. Every night, in spite of mosquitoes feeding merrily on me I slept soundly until morning. In 1918, when there was a malaria epidemic, my brother, his wife, their child, Uncle Ponnampalam and the cook were all stricken with malaria, but I alone escaped. I had developed immunity, which remained with me. Nine years later when I was a student teacher living in joint accommodation with bachelor friends in Singapore, all of them came down in another malaria epidemic and I nursed them! Those affected included Ben Dudley, Joseph, Retnasabapathy, and Jansen. Malaria affected many places in Malaya. The Government offered incentive allowances to persuade railway and postal employees to go on transfer to mosquito-infested towns like Gemas and Raub.
Standard Five 1919. My Second Good Teacher: Mr. S. Ponniah
At age 14, my new teacher, Mr. S. Ponniah, was one of the best. As the teacher in charge of school cricket, he kept the cricket material in a large wooden chest at the front of the classroom. Strict but kind, he enforced discipline with the cane. One day, one of the boys hid the cane before class started. He asked for it. Not getting it, he pulled out a cricket stump, called the biggest boy to come to the front of the class, ordered him to bend over a desk, and raised the cricket stump. The boy went down on his knees and begged the teacher not to hit him, saying he knew where the cane was hidden and would get it for him. The teacher retrieved the cane from a narrow space in one of the rear corners of the room. The culprit who had hidden it confessed that he had done it for fun. Mr. Ponniah called him to come forward and bend over the desk. Mr. Ponniah merely tapped him with the cane and sent him back with a laugh.
One more school incident that year took place at a pupils vs teachers cricket match. Tatparanandom, the bully, was batting. Mr. Ponniah delivered a full toss. Tat tried to make a big hit, missed the ball and came down flat upon the ground with the cry, “Ammah!” The ball had hit him right upon his temple and I clapped my hands. Everyone knew why I did that, but several told me that it was bad manners to applaud any one getting hurt. I did not regret what I did. Tat was sent to a hospital and came back to school after a short absence.
Mr. Ponniah didn’t set us written homework, only preparation for reading, spelling, names of countries, their capitals, ports, mountains and rivers, all of which he would have taught us. I would just read some of it and succeed in answering most questions while many of my classmates who had not paid close attention or even looked at their books at home were punished. I was one of the better students, not by any means among the best, and it was because I read more than the others, paid attention to the teaching and had begun to look at my homework. My rank in class tests was somewhere in the middle and I passed the final exam.
Standard Six
1920 saw me in Standard 6 at age 15. Our teacher, Mr Balaguru was not an ideal as a teacher. However, he was a hard-hitting muscular cricketer. He was weak at Arithmetic and slacked at marking written work. He set us difficult sums and sat marking written work. On one occasion, after the whole class had failed to solve a problem for two days in a row, several classmates urged me to tell him that none of us could do it and ask him to show us how to do it. When I did so, he asked me to go to his table. He came off his chair and slapped me so hard that I tottered. He held me to prevent my falling and slapped me on the other cheek. I was just able to keep my balance. He ordered me to go back to my seat and try to solve the problem. Instead of going back to my seat, I walked fast to the Vice-Principal, Mr.Karthigesu, and told him what had happened. He took me back and sent me to my seat. He beckoned the teacher out of the room and spoke to him. The teacher came back, told us to ignore the problem we could not solve and worked out a new one.
Some days later, being feverish, I sat in the classroom while others were at physical education. The Vice Principal came in and carried away a pile of exercise books from the teacher’s table. Later the peon handed the teacher a note. We wondering what was happening. When school was dismissed, we descended to the ground floor, and saw Mr. Balaguru, standing in the driveway, and shouting to the Vice-Principal, who was still in his office on the first floor, to come down. “You rascal, you coward, come down I will teach you a lesson.” Other teachers, Mr. Ponniah, Mr. Robinson, and Mr. William Dudley, hooked arms with Balaguru and pulled him away while he was still shouting more abuses. One of the teachers pushed his bicycle along. How far they took Balaguru I do not know; the teachers chased away all of us boys away. They must have taken him home. We never knew how the Principal dealt with Mr. Balaguru, but everything went on peacefully. Mr.Balaguru’s behaviour was the first shock to my naiveté in believing that teachers were paragons of exemplary conduct.
After that episode, he did not leave any piles of unchecked exercise books on the table. Instead, he marked them marked promptly, gave us less written work and more teaching. He never again beat me, even if I asked him for clarifications during class. We, cricket fans admired Balaguru’s batting. On the small school field, he scored many sixers and sent quite a few balls into the neighbouring Chinese school compound. We also admired his bulging biceps and deltoids. Fourteen years later, I played against him in the annual Ceylon Sports Club vs Tamilian Physical Culture Association. However, he did not impress me. Faced with adult bowlers he was out with low scores in both innings. I did not refer to my being his old student. He had forgotten me, and on a later occasion, we enjoyed a social chat at a party thrown by my son-in-law.
Standard Seven – neglect of studies, and pride in cricket and boxing
In Standard 7, at age 16, I came under Miss Thomson, an elderly, conscientious and strict teacher. It was 1921. This was an important school year because it ended with the Cambridge Junior Examination, which would qualify me for many jobs. However, it was also the year I strived for a place in the first school’s cricket first team. Furthermore, I was addicted to boxing that had become popular in Singapore and Malaya. Amin, who was a schoolmate, and Noel Hay from Victoria Institution took to the ring against ‘Battling Key’ of Singapore for the Light Weight title and each of them was knocked out in the first round. I joined Amin’s camp to learn boxing and fancied myself becoming a famous boxer. Amin himself slugged me, but he also encouraged me. He said I was tough and never flinched and would be good at the sport. I won a couple of private matches and strutted about thinking I was going places with boxing and cricket.
Inevitably, I neglected my studies. Miss. Thompson tried to pull me up by writing to my guardian asking him to see her. Since Kumarasingam now was in Bentong, I picked up the letter and told Miss. Thomson that I had no guardian and that I was living with friends. She sent me to the Principal who gave me a fatherly lecture. I did pull myself up, at least to do part of my homework and claim that I could not do the rest. I managed to pass that year’s exam and earn promotion to the Junior class. Coincidentally, I missed the Government Examination that would have qualified me to gain employment in the government clerical service or become a dresser (medical assistant) in a hospital, there was a shortage of clerks and dressers, and those who had passed the school Standard Seven exams were also recruited. Kumarasingam told me to apply for a clerical job. I did not. It was not from any ambition to study hard and do something better than being a clerk. I was still thinking of fun from play not of earning money to enjoy the material things of life.
Another adventure- ghosts and the dagger
At that time, I read ghost stories. Subconsciously, my previous disbelief in ghosts was shaken. Although I maintained that belief in ghosts was superstitious, in order to have courage to walk the dark lonely path from the hospital to the railway station, I secretly carried a Malay dagger. When I reached the dark stretch of the path, I would draw it out of its sheath but put it away in its sheath under my jacket on reaching the station. The only person who knew my secret was Chanan Singh. One day, a group of Chinese pupils confronted us, blocking our way in the lane at the foot of the hill. Chanan Singh asked for the dagger and, brandishing it, ran towards the rowdies (troublemakers) who fled leaving our way clear. After that, my dagger became general knowledge among all my friends and I decided to leave it at home and brave my way in the d
At that time, I read ghost stories. Subconsciously, my previous disbelief in ghosts was shaken. Although I maintained that belief in ghosts was superstitious, in order to have courage to walk the dark lonely path from the hospital to the railway station, I secretly carried a Malay dagger. When I reached the dark stretch of the path, I would draw it out of its sheath but put it away in its sheath under my jacket on reaching the station. The only person who knew my secret was Chanan Singh. One day, a group of Chinese pupils confronted us, blocking our way in the lane at the foot of the hill. Chanan Singh asked for the dagger and, brandishing it, ran towards the rowdies (troublemakers) who fled, leaving our way clear. After that, my dagger became general knowledge among all my friends and I decided to leave it at home and brave my way in the dark.
Later, another confrontation took place with the rowdies on the road to the railway station. As the fight became furious, a few of us saw the police arrive and ran away. The police arrested many of those who were in the thick of the fight and took them to the police station. Those of us who escaped arrest reported to our teachers what had happened. The Principal, Rev. Pykett, went to the police and brought away our friends. Because the Chinese rowdies had gone out of their way to the railway station to pick the fight with us, the police excused our group.
Standard Eight. Junior Cambridge Certificate class. 1922
The Junior Certificate was a crucial year in the school calendar, because it ended with the examination set by the Overseas Cambridge Examination Board at the end of the year. Passing that exam was essential for proceeding with schooling. It was compulsory to pass Reading, Dictation, Arithmetic, and three groups of two subjects each namely, English Language and Literature, Algebra and Geometry, History and Geography, Acts of the Apostles and one of the Gospels/Hygiene and Art or Bookkeeping groups. Methodist Boys School and most other schools did not teach Science subjects. However, I was 16 going on 17 years old, and my craze for cricket and boxing was at its strongest. I was already in the school cricket first team and was doing well at boxing. Kumarasingam must have heard that I was not paying attention to my studies. He wrote to Kanagasabai, with whom I was lodging, to discipline me. Kanagasabai, a timid person, wrote back to say that he was afraid of me because I was a boxer. Vaithilingam, one of the other lodgers heard this and advised me to study harder! I did pay some heed to that advice.
Move back to Kuala Lumpur
During the year, Kumarasingam instructed me to move back to Kuala Lumpur to live with Dr. Ponniah. He was my uncle, (son of my grand-aunt) but he was not interested in the education even for his own son, daughter or nephew Markandu, who was a closer relation and more playful than me. Markandu and I had much fun together and I paid even less attention to studies. I had yet to realise, that soon I would have to support myself. None of the teachers in 1922 took any personal interest in my studies. The teachers of English, Mathematics, and History came and went in such quick succession that I do not even remember who they were.
The Awakening of Common Sense
Later in the year, permanent teachers arrived in school and common sense began to stir in me. They included Mr. R.R. Samuel (Mathematics), Miss Purham (History and religious knowledge) and Dr. Proebestel (English Language and Literature). Mr. Ho Seng Ong, the Geography teacher, had begun much earlier, but his teaching style consisted of writing notes on the board at every lesson, and instructing the students to copy them while he spent the time studying for a B.A. degree as an external student for the London examination. Mr. Ho distinguished himself by getting his B.A., and later his M.A. and finally his PhD. He became famous in the Methodist Mission and after he retired, he became one of the earliest members of the Singapore Public Services Commission. However, when he was teaching my class he took a personal interest only in the good pupils. His Geography notes were superb. I admired his beautiful handwriting. He could have won fame for Chinese calligraphy if he had been a Chinese scholar. My other subjects were Hygiene, Bookkeeping and Art, but I have forgotten who taught us.
In spite of my giving inadequate attention to studies throughout 1922, I expected to pass the Junior Cambridge examination. At the beginning of 1923, I was promoted to the Senior class. Thus, I gained a false sense of confidence thinking that teachers also thought that I would pass.
Shock at failing the Cambridge Junior Examination
When the results arrived in early 1923, I learned I failed the Cambridge Junior Examination by half a section. I was utterly shocked. I had become vain by thinking I could pass the examinations without studying. Commuting by train to school had meant I wasted much time and energy.
Reflections on my development
On reflection, I feel my experience in MBS gave me the opportunity to become close to a small group of boys who were about my age. I cultivated friendships with some, experienced hostility from a few. I also learnt how to cope with an enemy, admired good characters and appreciated friendly help. Only after the shock of failure did I begin to focus on studying well. I now realised that I had to do better in studies to secure a job and support myself. Fortunately, Kumarasingam was generous enough not to stop my schooling. Perhaps he consulted my teachers and they advised him to give me another chance. His own Standard seven qualification had given him only a clerical job on a poor salary. He must have wanted me to do better in life. The best thing he ever did for me was to be generous in allowing me to continue schooling. At that time, I was too young to understand that he was being very generous and was demonstrating his affection. I had assumed that he was supporting me out of a sense of duty and had no affection for me.