S Balakrishnan
The girls were about to cry; it was not my fault but I was indeed the cause. The result of shorthand intermediate exam was out and I had passed in First Class and they had scored only Second Class. The three girls, the most beautiful of our morning batch, were so upset that I felt like wiping the tear that welled up in their kajal-lined eyes. (In Tamil kajal is called ‘my’ which is even home-made.)
In that private commercial institute in the Nanganallur suburb of Madras (now Chennai), the boys felt fortunate to have joined the morning shorthand session because of these three beauties. They thanked their luck and Pitman, the inventor of Shorthand, for this opportunity. Needless to say, the boy’s attendance was 100% - rain or shine. Among the three, one resembled actress Lakshmi (of the ‘Julie’ film fame); the other two were either twin sisters or mere siblings who were codenamed Padmini Sisters (again, a very talented actress). Actually, Padmini had two sisters – Lalitha & Ragini – and the threesome was renowned as Travancore Sisters in film and Bharathanatyam dance circles. Okay, coming back to our heart-throbs, the three were from Brahmin community as the emerging Nanganallur suburb was mostly colonised by them. ‘Lakshmi’ was lean and also mean (haughty) while the Padmini sisters were a little chubby and cheery (with the girls only; no talking with the boys). The half-sari clad girls were the cynosure of the class. No wonder most of the boys fared poorly in the exam. Salwar-kameez & churidar were taboo then, to be worn only by North Indian girls and not Tamil girls, especially the orthodox Brahmin girls! In contrast, now you can’t see a half-sari clad girl even in a remote Tamil Nadu village. For that matter, the convenient nighty seems to be the National dress while at home.
It was my hunting days (1975-78) for a ‘dream’ job in Central Government or bank. I had just landed in the big, bad city of Madras from the rural Virudhunagar after completing a 3-year Diploma in Commercial Practice. It took one full year to know the result of every job attempt; you see, those were manual days without the aid of computer. So as to productively kill the time and not being called a ‘thanda soru – a food liability’ at home, I joined one of the commercial coaching institutes that mushroomed everywhere. Again, in contrast, you rarely find these typewriting coaching institutes these days. They were replaced by computer coaching centres. English typewriting and shorthand were included in the Diploma curriculum to the level of Higher and Lower respectively. I decided to take up Tamil typewriting Lower and English Shorthand Inter.
The Institute was run by a shrewd Brahmin who also worked elsewhere as a private secretary. So he would rush through with the shorthand coaching in the morning. He had a commanding baritone voice with appropriate diction suitable for shorthand dictation. The thatched terrace of his house near the bazaar was the coaching centre that churned out typists and stenographers for dull & drab Govt. offices–both State and Central–and private offices.
The result was a shocking surprise for the class; in fact, I myself had not expected to be the sole First Class of the morning batch. The city-bred beauties could not tolerate the beating by a naïve rural boy with Butler English knowledge. I did study in English medium from 6th Standard to Diploma for a total of 9 years but surely you can’t compare it with English medium convent schools of Madras City. During the Diploma hostel days, I studiously read the English paper which was not touched by anyone else along with a comparative glance of a Tamil daily. Also, the hostel mess radio blared the morning 8 am English news from Delhi. This helped improve my English vocabulary but spoken English was a far dream. This bothered me and so I didn’t hobnob with these sophisticated city girls. No wonder the result shattered the beauties. Though I pitied them, I thought Lakshmi deserved it for her haughtiness. I was obliged to celebrate the achievement with sweets and what a sweet revenge against the girls ! They must have swallowed the sweet and their pride.
The exams were conducted by the State Government’s Department of Technical Education. For shorthand exam our only prayer would be to have a good ‘dictator’ who would give the dictation at 100 words/minute; our fate wholly depended on the person. The second important thing was the typewriter one got used to at the institute. This was taken care of by the institute by safely transporting our daily practicing typewriters to the exam centre for transcribing (typing out) the dictated material within the prescribed time limit – fully, correctly and neatly. These three factors were crucial. Then it was a nail-biting wait for 3-4 months for the result. Learning shorthand improves one’s English and vice versa.
I had already joined Aparajitha Rubbers, a private family company, when the result was out. Within six months, I switched over to Tamil Nadu Dadha Pharmaceuticals Ltd. Again, hardly within the next six months I got a dream(?) job in Central Govt.’s Press Information Bureau (PIB) and I landed in Port Blair, Andamans, on 2nd May 1978. After ten years of service in Andamans, Orissa and Sikkim, I returned to Madras and Nanganallur, and once visited the Institute to thank my Shorthand Master (for the daily darshan of the damsels for six months). The three typing divas, well, I never came across. How would they look like now, after 45 years ? Well, let them forever remain as the Dream Girls of the Boys of the lucky 1976 morning batch. Do you have any problem ?
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