Yes, 12th Fail directed by V.V. Chopra is an outstanding film. It was, in a way, a mirror image of what I underwent in the 60s and 70s, dented every day by forces beyond my control and imagination. After passing the SSLC examination (12th now), I expected my father to support me for further education. However, he insisted that I should join Hindustan Ceiba Geigy as a clerk. By that time, I had passed the typewriting and shorthand examinations, and he believed I should stop further studies and join the company as a clerk or stenographer. I refused to fall in line. I said I wanted to continue my studies. He was adamant, and a big fight erupted. I walked out of the house and went to Guntur with two pairs of clothes in a small bag without knowing where to go (did not buy the ticket of course)
At the same time, I do not want to blame my father for anything. His meagre earnings could not sustain six hungry mouths. As a result, for about six years, formal education remained out of reach for me, though streetside educators offered lessons for a pittance. It was at my grandparents' home in Atkur, near Gannavaram, that my father's brother, Achileswararao, took pity on me. He saw my potential and, recognizing the lack of educational opportunities, began coaching me for direct entry into fifth or sixth grade—my memory fails me on the exact level. To meet the age requirement for the 16-year formal schooling mandatory for the SSLC (12th) exam, he adjusted my birthdate, adding two years and changing my name from Poornachandrarao to Suryaprakasarao. Life offered few smooth passages, and at every turn, continuing my education meant overcoming insurmountable hurdles.
I got off the train at the outer signal and started walking towards the town. I roamed around the railway station for a full day, looking for temporary accommodation but could not find any. I then went to nearby hotels seeking help, but no one listened. They kicked me out after yelling abuses at me. When I was standing before Shankar Vilas Hotel with folded hands requesting food, one gentleman came forward and made me eat breakfast. He then took me to his residence, assuring me of his support the whole time. He said I could stay in a nearby hut belonging to his parents and tutor his and other neighbouring kids.
I continued this for three or four days. All this time, since I had no money and did not know where to go, I used to go to the Guntur railway station and observe the train movements and passenger traffic. By then, I had befriended the gatekeepers and the railway master on duty. I think it was on a Sunday morning while I was watching the trains that I saw my mother frantically searching for me. She was overwhelmed with joy when she saw me at the railway station. We had a heated exchange of words and I refused to go with her since my father was adamant about putting me into a job. She promised to rectify the situation. After nearly 2 hours of arguing, I gave in and went with her.
I do not know what happened between my mother and father after that. She endured his anger and convinced him to let me go to college. Finally, he agreed to let me join SSN College in Narasaraopet. He gave me a strict warning that he would not be able to spend more than the required fee and that I should look for ways to buy books etc. by doing some work on my own. I agreed to all his conditions and joined SSN College for my B.Com first year. My mother’s elder sister—Peddamma—had a kind and generous heart and she used to offer money to support running expenses--knowing my pitiable condition now and then.
After two years, my father was transferred to Vijayawada. My teachers even requested my parents to let me continue studying at SSN College since I had a good chance of topping my final B. Com examination. But that did not happen, and I moved to SRR & CVR College in Vijayawada, which was notorious at that time. We had classes in a temporary shed, and it was quite difficult to accommodate all 100+ students in the classroom. Students could hardly listen to the teachers at the back benches where all kinds of nuisance happened.
We were living in a makeshift hut that my father built on government land nearby, so I had to cross the canal on the Eluru road near Machavaram Down and walk about 1 km to get to college daily. There was no way to have breakfast or lunch on time since college started at 9 am and ended at 4 pm. Since it was government land, my father built another hut and cultivated vegetables, etc. there. He instructed me to wake up at 4 am, water all the plants, and then go to college. One day, I was in deep sleep and he came and kicked me in the stomach. That's when I realized it was time to wake up and water the plants. That was the only time I missed the routine. I never gave him a chance to blame me again for not following his instructions. In that hut, I used to study for hours, preparing notes for every subject. There was virtually no other job except focused studying.
My father was a man of brutal honesty. I vividly recall the day a gentleman, clutching a wad of cash, approached him for a favor. He needed land near the upcoming Theatre in Gunadala measured in a way that benefited the owner if I recall correctly. As a former army man, my father chased the man away like a wild animal, giving him the fright of his life. His position as the Head of Vijayawada's survey and land records afforded him the privilege of four peons, ever ready to help. Yet, he steadfastly resisted using their services for personal gain, despite their punctual 8 am reports. Brutally honest and sincere, my father knew even the lowliest clerks were building comfortable homes in Machavarm, profiting handsomely through illegal means. But he remained his unyielding self, impervious to such pressures. Unable to make ends meet, he opened a small provision store within our hut, managed by my mother and sister. On occasion, I would sprint to Kaleswararao market, alongside the railway tracks outside Satyanarayana Puram station, to procure cans of oil and kerosene – 15 liters, I think, though memory blurs. Carrying the heavy load on my head for those 5 kilometers was daunting, yet necessary. Near the station, the outer signal line was manned by a Master and two peons, their flags flashing red or green as trains thundered past. A small bench under a lamppost became my haven, offering solace during late-night study sessions for impending exams. Throughout the day, I remained glued to the books in that small hut, preparing for the examinations with a single-minded focus.
I topped the university exams (B. Com) and expected my father to support my higher studies. After finishing my B. Com, I wrote some competitive exams and luckily cleared one or two. PNB offered me a clerk job and posted me to Eluru. My father said this was the best chance and I should take it. So I joined PNB as a clerk in Eluru and stayed near Vasanth Mahal restaurant in a one-room apartment. When the other staff learned of my B.Com degree, the cashier went on leave and I was asked to handle the cash. There used to be minor differences in the accounts daily, and no one was allowed to leave until they were sorted out. Since I was always poor with numbers, unusual delays were happening daily. Everyone blamed me for not doing the job properly. I tried to explain my weakness but they were unwilling to accept my explanations.
In the meantime, my schoolmate Mohammad Khasim informed me he had been admitted to the M. Com programme at the Guntur PG Centre. This made me want to pursue further studies again. I came back home and asked my father to let me join the M. Com course. He flatly refused and kicked me out when I did not follow his order. My grandfather Venkatratnam came to my rescue and said he would help me get into the M. Com course. By then, almost a month had passed since classes began at the PG Centre. My grandfather took me to Prof. M. Gangadhara Rao, the center head, and requested him to accept my late admission. There were no strict rules at that time, and Prof. Rao knew my grandfather through some contacts. They belonged to the same caste and had a long discussion before Prof. Rao admitted me to the program.
However, just three months after I got admission, my grandfather passed away. My father did not allow me back home since I had disobeyed him. I was told I had to end my M. Come dream and take up a job immediately. Meanwhile, Prof Rao informed me that I had been awarded the national merit scholarship of Rs. 1200, to be paid in two installments after the first and second years. My mother took the award certificate to nearly 10-15 relatives seeking help. She assured them the amount would be repaid when the government released the first installment. Almost everyone refused to help and instead suggested I take up a clerk's job given my typing skills.
One relative who ran a big steel mill in Enikepaudu scolded my mother for wasting his time when I went along with my mother and begged him for help. Finally, one of my father's cousins came forward with the condition that I repay the amount immediately after receiving the scholarship money. I agreed and continued my studies. In the first year, I topped Andhra University, which was rare as almost always only campus students got that humor. No one before me had got that humor while studying at an extension center set up by the university.
The second-year fees were paid by my roommate T. Hariprasad (who resides in Ongole now) who took pity on me and supported my routine expenses now and then. After finishing my exams, my father allowed me back home. Around that time, there was a vacancy for a lecturer at KBN College, Vijayawada. After interviewing, I joined as a teacher in Advanced Accountancy. Just fifteen days later, I learned of a vacancy at SV College Delhi through my batchmate. I applied with brief details on a postcard. Impressed by my first-year marks, the kind-hearted Principal sent me an appointment letter that completely changed the course of my life.
When I look back, I wonder what would have happened if I had not met my mother on that Sunday at the railway station at that exact time. Well, while watching the movie I was reminded of my dark days and the pain and agony that I suffered for several years before settling down in life and starting my career with a salary of about Rs 700 in 1974 at the age of 22. After 9 months of joining the College, my results came out and I topped the University once again.
No comments:
Post a Comment