tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84934143947277183322024-03-14T08:18:20.942+05:30Mount Carmel Convent Anglo Indian Girls High School, Tangasseri, Kollam, Kerala - MCC Class of '85An unforgettable Silver Jubilee Reunion experience that set this blog in motion. We hope this blog will help us to remain united with our friends and their families.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-71803406933186079612011-01-30T17:04:00.006+05:302012-02-07T10:33:08.505+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tangasseri – A Tourist Haven</span></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By Sherene alias Mary Bennet (’89 Batch)</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tangasseri is situated right at the edge of the Arabian Sea, a very unique location for a school. It is a place packed with history that we as students of MCC were either unaware of or took for granted! Our school could be a treasure trove for archeologists. It lies very close to the old run down Portuguese fort. Many sea battles may have been waged from our very own school yard during the Portuguese – British era. Sounds of thundering cannons may have resonated within the land. The magnificent light house situated nearby still stands tall and is a lone witness to this timeless history. (Wonder if that monster beehive is still clinging to its side?).</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Past students like me who have moved out of Kerala, crave to go back to Tangasseri, a dream destination for foreign tourists. Reunions give us the opportunity to go back in time and enjoy the place we are so nostalgic about.</span></div>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-75269437259900940822011-01-27T13:29:00.009+05:302011-01-30T15:08:38.469+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Chemistry Blues</span> </span></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By Sherene Dcruz alias Mary Bennet (’89 Batch)</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TUEm6we9jKI/AAAAAAAABRY/k3EOEgZjDLk/s1600/151060_10150128471428238_551113237_7969169_7179503_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" s5="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TUEm6we9jKI/AAAAAAAABRY/k3EOEgZjDLk/s1600/151060_10150128471428238_551113237_7969169_7179503_n.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bunsen Burners and Test Tubes! I remember the long hours we had to spend learning our chemistry tables and being bored to death by them. Then the day finally arrived when we got to go to the chemistry lab.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was excitement all around. Imagine you get a Bunsen burner and test tubes all to yourself!! Not all experiments are successful, you end up with strange residues of all forms and colours, mini explosions, burned plaits, strange smells! Then there are the bottled specimens kept in formol which gives an eerie atmosphere to the lab and for a first timer it’s like being in a funeral parlour. I can still smell the sulfuric acid hitting my nostrils. We never got to go there as often as it was reserved more for our responsible seniors. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After the experiments, we were supposed to hide our testubes in the drawers, but somehow they always seemed to disappear. So my friend Rachana decided that it would be a better idea to take them home. You just can’t put test tubes in between books that weighed a ton and then board a very crowded bus home. Well, she ended up with powdered test tubes!!! </span></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-62602831184594823342011-01-26T19:26:00.005+05:302011-02-01T11:21:10.672+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: 'Tahoma','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Anatomy of a Frog</span></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: 'Tahoma','sans-serif'; font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By Sherene D'cruz alias Mary Bennet ('89 batch)</span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TUAnnoIsAQI/AAAAAAAABRU/I3cMp9nHu1Q/s1600/151060_10150128471428238_551113237_7969169_7179503_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" s5="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TUAnnoIsAQI/AAAAAAAABRU/I3cMp9nHu1Q/s1600/151060_10150128471428238_551113237_7969169_7179503_n.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Tahoma','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Science was not exactly my favourite subject, though I ended up drawing diagrams of cross sections for my friends who hated drawing. Strange enough, today when I go to pick up some reading material from the local book store, I always end up with a copy of ‘The Scientific American’. Looks like I love science after all.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: 'Tahoma','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Back in school when Mrs. Cabot informed us that we would be dissecting a frog the following week, I’m sure the future surgeons and doctors may have rejoiced, but there were those of us who felt our stomachs churn. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mrs. Cabot kept a close eye on everyone. As the brave cut them open we could feel our breakfast rising to our throats.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: 'Tahoma','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">Strangely enough the chloroform began to wear off and the frogs with open bellies started to wake up. This caused a general panic and Mrs. Cabot went around with cotton dipped in chloroform to put them back to sleep. Once the entrails were examined, the beating heart, the lungs and diaphragms drawn and lessons learnt, the question that popped in our mind was, ‘do we stitch up the belly just like real surgery?’ Unfortunately no needle and thread was available as this was no SUPW class. Mrs. Cabot must have surely wondered why we were being so ridiculous. She asked us to just dump them in the garden for the birds and cats to eat. Now if we were in France someone would have taken them home to prepare some delicious ‘fried frogs legs’ (sorry my vegetarian friends!). Hands were washed thoroughly but somehow no one was in a mood to eat their lunch that day. I wonder why?</span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Tahoma','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(Frogs are protected species, so try to stitch them up next time. Don’t forget the needle and the thread!)</span></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-59074592453461426222011-01-25T21:31:00.017+05:302011-01-26T11:24:59.463+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The SUPW Garden Plot </span></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>By Sherene D’cruz <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>alias Mary Bennet ('89 Batch)</em></span></span></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TT8vli6M7oI/AAAAAAAABQ8/hIr4SVMBykI/s1600/151060_10150128471428238_551113237_7969169_7179503_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" s5="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TT8vli6M7oI/AAAAAAAABQ8/hIr4SVMBykI/s1600/151060_10150128471428238_551113237_7969169_7179503_n.jpg" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TT8GB-vTfVI/AAAAAAAABQo/KdlcKeEnKNU/s1600/39774_478686108237_551113237_6752416_1515291_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #783f04;"></span></a><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It all began in the best of spirits and ended in the worst! Each class of our batch was divided according to houses and each house was allocated a little plot. Everyone dug their hands in except for a few who did not want to damage their well manicured nails. With scientific precision the plots were measured, fences were built and plants were sneaked in from mom’s vegetable garden or what was found on the roadside - begged, borrowed or stolen! No one had time for games anymore during the breaks as everyone rushed to their plots to take care of their precious plants. Lunch was gobbled </span></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">up quickly, no time for small talk. </span></span></div></div></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was just loads of enthusiasm and itching green fingers. While you worked on your plot, you enviously eyed your neighbour’s plot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every detail caught your eyes, trying to steal ideas, hey? No way! But how come everyone ended up putting together the same little scarecrows to ward off the birds that were fond of the ripe tomatoes. The plants were suffocated with love. How come no one thought of playing music to their plants? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They say plants grow faster when they hear music! Anyway the plants had no choice but to yield the very best! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Wonder where the vegetables finally ended up, most probably in one of mom’s casseroles. Everything was shared fair and square, at least the first season! Summer went by, the plants were neglected during the holidays. The first day of school everyone arrived early to check their plots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though some of the enthusiasm had died, they were still a few brave who cleaned the plots and planted anew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one could predict the damage the torrential monsoon rains would do to their precious plants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Boundaries got smudged, plants and houses intermingled and finally it was "that’s our tomato plant, no it’s ours". Now, it was just one big floating vegetable garden in a sea of reddish water. Complaints were made, fights had to be dealt with while the vegetables rottened away! </span></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then there was the calm after the storm - when a new SUPW project was suggested, something for all seasons! This time with wonderful Miss Braganza, cross stitch and crochet, there was no rivalry, coz everyone had their own patch!</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In school I was known as Mary Bennet. Sherene is what friends and family call me!!</span></span></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-38042425655463313782010-12-04T21:04:00.000+05:302011-02-22T21:27:51.914+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: purple;">Boarding Life – Part I</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #660000;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">By Elizabeth Thomas ('85 Batch)</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 11.5pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TPk4_jGV7MI/AAAAAAAABIg/sLO5iqvYnko/s1600/elizabeth+family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TPk4_jGV7MI/AAAAAAAABIg/sLO5iqvYnko/s1600/elizabeth+family.jpg" /></span></a><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">The prayers we recited at the boarding should qualify us an entry in heaven (if St. Peter is lenient with the keys). Let’s list the major ones –</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">1. Mass @ chapel ~ 6:00 -6:45 am</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-line-height-alt: 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .25in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-fareast-font-family: Georgia;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> 2.</span> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Prayer @ hallway ~ before school</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-line-height-alt: 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .25in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-fareast-font-family: Georgia;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"> 3.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Prayer @ area between infirmary </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-line-height-alt: 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .25in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-fareast-font-family: Georgia;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"> 4.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Rosary @ study hall ~ 6:00 pm</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; mso-line-height-alt: 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .25in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-fareast-font-family: Georgia;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"> 5.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Night prayers @ dining hall ~ 8:00 pm</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="color: #741b47;">Besides the above, all meals were flanked by short prayers. And of course, you are also supposed to do your personal prayers before the holy water was sprinkled on you to enable a peaceful sleep at night and after the morning bell was rung to wake you up. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sunday was a major prayer day. Garmented in white we either made our way to the chapel at MCC or Infant Jesus church (cathedral now).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to fess up that instead of paying attention to the mass, my mind often wandered to the flower arrangements and the finery that adorned the MCC chapel, perfectly coordinated with the robes the priest wore. While at IJ church I focused mostly on the choir and their fashionable clothes, hair styles and so forth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">The study hall of the boarding was supposed to be the center of gravity for us. Between prayers, self grooming, recreation and school, we were allotted at least 3 solid hours per day. That was enough to strike a balance and avoid the ‘all play/all work’ situation. The brilliant ones simple shone in their studies (Preethi). The studious ones had opportunity to study extra hard in the upstairs study hall, sipping the coffee from the flasks which the ‘fans’ made. The not so studious ones would read M&B under the desk (mostly me) or narrate movies over the desk (mostly Veera). Veera was a fan of actors such as Mithun & Shankar, Shirley – Kamal Hassan fan, Jaya – James Bond fan, Achumma – Amitabh fan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then there were the sport freaks like Jeena – fan of Kapil, Ravi Shastri, Azzar. The musically inclined ones enthralled us with live performance upon request – vocals (Veera & Shirley) and guitar (Mary Susan John). Then there were ‘the bold and the beautiful’ whom the not so bold and beautiful would admire (I dare not mention names).</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Singing and dancing were very much a part of our life at MCC in preparation for feast days and house competitions. I admired the conducting and choreography by some of the prominent singers and dancers such as Achumma and Veera. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some were adept at stage dramas such as Lynda – winner of MCC Oscars.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-65411347194712220872010-12-04T00:42:00.010+05:302011-02-02T12:48:36.195+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #783f04;">Boarding Life – Part II</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">By Elizabeth Thomas ('85 Batch)</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 11.5pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TPlBDgChnLI/AAAAAAAABIk/a6GokqJSglQ/s1600/elizabeth+family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TPlBDgChnLI/AAAAAAAABIk/a6GokqJSglQ/s1600/elizabeth+family.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Among other miscellaneous part of our boarding life, were visits by our parents or relatives. We enjoyed the eatables and fish pickles that they brought for us. Sometimes we managed to buy sweetmeats from across the street (Mysorepak). We also enjoyed the occasional movies and excursions that we were allowed to. I had the opportunity to do experimental stuff like cutting other's hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were some others who did things like running away to their relative's place in the neighborhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We as friends had formed deep bonds, strong enough to last 25 years and more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had the privilege to familiarize ourselves with some of the sisters who would reach out to us in fellowship during the quiet moments of boarding life. Some of the nuns were very pretty. I often wondered at the conviction that led them to leave their families behind in order to choose this way of life. They taught us by being examples themselves. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="color: #274e13;">I am grateful for having Sr. Thomas, Sr. Margeret, Sr. Effy, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sr. Helen, etc., who took the place of my parents and guardians during my formative years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I often wished some of the day scholars had stayed with us and tasted convent life briefly. We were sad at the prospect of stepping outside the MCC walls when we had to part ways and yet excited at the thought of what life may have in store for us. </span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="color: #274e13;">My life at MCC had groomed me into a confident person that I am today, ready to face challenges of the future. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have also realized the impact the MCC environment has created on its alumnae bringing them success in whatever career or paths they may have chosen in life.</span></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-60059506650142455122010-12-03T15:43:00.012+05:302010-12-06T19:28:39.772+05:30<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 10pt;"><strong><span style="color: #274e13;">Inside the Convent Walls</span></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">By Elizabeth Thomas ('85 Batch)</span></i></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TPjMNAg1YhI/AAAAAAAABIU/_aec111VHtE/s1600/elizabeth+family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TPjMNAg1YhI/AAAAAAAABIU/_aec111VHtE/s1600/elizabeth+family.jpg" /></a><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="color: #660000;">I consider myself very lucky and grateful for the opportunity I've had to spend the best part of my life in MCC. The first time I came to MCC, I was awestruck by the colonial and catholic feel that pervaded Tangasseri. The reason, which I now realize, is that my brain was not yet a finished product then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sr. Thomas and Sr. Margaret with their regimented control over us made sure that our thoughts be ordered, impulses be controlled, concepts understood from day one. Sr. Patricia, Sr. Lucia, and the rest of the teaching squad were doing the same across the road from our boarding. This tight-knit school community offered its students the opportunity to learn in a comfortable and focused atmosphere and enabled them to receive individual attention. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus our neural foundations were laid that hard wired our brains for the rest of our lives. </span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="color: #660000;">The situation of MCC on the shores of the Arabian Sea, with its tall fence and stately gates gave a secure feel. I often took advantage of the slew of spots near the grotto close to the elementary school building, where I would pretend to study while watching the clouds rolling over the sea and fishing boats gently rocking on the sparkling waters, soaking up the salty air. I would watch the parade of elegant Tangi ladies going up and down the street with their pretty dresses and coats. The “aroma” of MCC was very special, unique and engrained in our minds and memories. Sr. Patricia’s garden with its magnificent roses perfumed the air. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #741b47;"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="color: #660000;">Sr. Patricia was known for her culinary creations. It was rumored that during feast days, she made or supervised the tastiest pork dish ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Towards Christmas the fragrance of wine, made by the very talented winemakers (nuns), used to infuse the convent. I could not figure out where the actual winery was. We would be in our own homes for vacation by the time the fermentation was complete and the drink ready for the table while they enjoyed the silent days.</span></span></span></span></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-56299647752396424142010-11-11T19:30:00.017+05:302011-01-28T10:00:54.644+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">A Reunion to Remember - Part II</span></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: #134f5c;">By Rajashree Vijay ('85 Batch)</span></em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TNv2scrz35I/AAAAAAAABDQ/GGZ32Gj0W1Q/s1600/rajashree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TNv2scrz35I/AAAAAAAABDQ/GGZ32Gj0W1Q/s1600/rajashree.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">My memoirs would remain incomplete without making a special mention of those friends who made it all happen. Sreelatha who ran around taking care of the decorations, the slide shows, the lamp lighting ceremony, prayers, the transportation etc,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Veera, who made it an exquisite event with her fine skills in hosting and SR Kavitha who neatly crafted the souvenirs and carried them all the way from Bangalore were among few who took the pains to make it a reunion with a difference. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;">The effort they put in was magnanimous, resulting in a feeling of warmth and oneness to a batch of 20 odd classmates whose existence would have otherwise remained in oblivion. Unfortunately, there were few of our friends whose pessimistic attitude made them believe that a reunion was a worthless affair and a waste of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pity them for missing out on this once in a life time occasion. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I tagged my reluctant daughter along with me to the reunion that day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first she seemed totally disinterested but accompanied me all the same at my insistence. She was so impressed towards the end of the party that as soon as we returned home, she picked up my collection of school photos and gazed through them with the most eager expression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched perplexed as she identified each one she had met earlier that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She began to appreciate the essence of the meeting and understood why it had brought so much joy in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a glint in her eye she smiled as she uttered, ‘Mummy, my classmates and I will have a reunion too, some day’.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-36026273257100649062010-11-11T17:25:00.012+05:302011-01-28T10:01:47.549+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #990000; font-size: large;"><strong>A Reunion to Remember - Part I</strong></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: #38761d;">By Rajashree Vijay ('85 Batch)</span></em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TNvZe07r7fI/AAAAAAAABDE/LFCOHTT721c/s1600/rajashree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TNvZe07r7fI/AAAAAAAABDE/LFCOHTT721c/s1600/rajashree.jpg" /></a><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">The day dawned liked any other, but it was no ordinary day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the day I was waiting for anxiously since the last 25 years of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the day we had traveled from so far to partake in a momentous event called the ‘Reunion’. The reunion excitement swelled within me, as I debated on what I would wear that afternoon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess, only those who have experienced one will understand its true significance. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">I opened the door to the most welcoming face that morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was none other than our dear Sheroo and as she said ‘come on” I felt myself transforming into a little school girl all over again. The hall reflected the mood we felt as we hugged and welcomed our long lost friends. There were tears and smiles when Jayashree walked in. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hugged and wept as we moaned her sister and our classmate Rajashree’s untimely demise. It was so good of her to come in support of our reunion that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were also some unexpected faces. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Calibri;">The presentation by Cynthia and speeches by Sreelatha, Veera, Sheroo and Deepa respectively were all moments to live for. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deepa was a natural orator. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She recalled memories that resonated within us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, all those long lost days! She characterized each teacher with perfection and a tinge of such humour, that our squeals of laughter seemed to be boundless. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were enraptured the whole time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Lunch was a splurge of delicacies but unfortunately we were so preoccupied catching up, that I don’t think any of us did much justice to the food.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">Soon after the celebration, we headed for Mount Carmel, our good old school. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We met Sr. Effie and the other sisters at the convent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walked along the same paths we did as school girls, giggling and chatting away as we remembered many funny instances of school life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spent a few silent moments at the chapel and as we prayed we felt a sense of divinity come over us. We then decided to pay a surprise visit to Sandra who couldn’t make it to the party as she was in her final stages of pregnancy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> What an excited Sandra we met that day! Photos with Sandra in '<em>Visiting Classmates Post Reunion</em>' Album.</span></span></span></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-19153672405100563562010-11-03T14:03:00.037+05:302011-02-22T21:18:50.990+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Reunion Felicitation</strong></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>By Sheroo Philip (‘85 Batch)</em></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TPksXsIeXpI/AAAAAAAABIc/eKGqHLTgKJg/s1600/sheroo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TPksXsIeXpI/AAAAAAAABIc/eKGqHLTgKJg/s200/sheroo.jpg" width="153" /></a> <br />
<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">My very dear friends,</span><br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It is indeed a rare honor for me to be asked to speak at this reunion. My warm greetings to each and every one of you present here. I take this opportunity to greet you all on behalf of our friends who are presently in the UAE and the Gulf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">As we look back today at the brief but wonderful time we spent at Mount Carmel, we instinctly compare our high school days to that of our children and the kids of today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder how many of them would say that the days they spend at high school are one of the best times of their lives as many of us do. It is hard to convince a student that he or she would encounter problems more difficult and complicated than algebra and geometry. The friends we make in school and college stay with us for the rest of our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is ironic that we spend our school days yearning to graduate and our remaining days carrying nostalgia about our school days.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">At this occasion, the first people we must acknowledge are our parents and teachers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are the people who have played a vital part in making us who we are today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So dear friends, let us join together in expressing our sincere gratitude to our parents, teachers and other staff of Mount Carmel.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Today we raise a toast to our memories, the students, athletes and friends we once were – reunited now, reliving a shared past.We remember our friends – those with us now, those who couldn’t make it and those who are no longer with us. Don’t be dismayed at goodbyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A farewell is necessary to meet again. So bye! thank you and let us meet again! Check out the <em>'MCC Reunion Video'</em> link for my '<em>Reunion Felicitation'</em>.</span></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-79546369622257576412010-10-26T14:19:00.057+05:302011-01-28T10:08:11.986+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;"><strong>My Reminiscenes</strong></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;"><em>By Deepa Padmanabhan ('85 Batch)</em></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TMfpx8ds7NI/AAAAAAAABA0/rbkgefxLU4Q/s1600/deepa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TMfpx8ds7NI/AAAAAAAABA0/rbkgefxLU4Q/s1600/deepa.jpg" /></a><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">The foundation of my education was laid strong by the primary teachers of MCC whom I will cherish throughout my life. Their footprints have left me mightier than words!!!!</span><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Sr. Colette: I still remember her and her little umbrella. The sweet smile with which she taught us vowels, phonetics in kindergarten. I remember the green, red and white big beads of the Abacus that she used to teach us to count. She often requested us to bring used toothpaste tubes, powder boxes etc which were required for craftwork.</span><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Sr. Victoria: used to address us as ‘pussycat’ every time she saw us. The ‘Praise the Lord’ we had to greet her with. It was fun when she was around.</span><span style="font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Mrs Abraham: She wore her saree with the pallu neatly pinned at the shoulder, and walked with her head held high that commanded respect from us. She used to be strict with the English spellings and routine tables. (Sheroo you are indeed blessed with such a lovely auntie!!!!). For me it was a great start to the fabulous world of Maths.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Mrs Stella: She was strict at times, she pinched me on my arm for my awful Malayalam spellings. I still remember her when I slog at translating technical words for the Legislative Assembly.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Mrs Sabeena: She had a craze for jasmine flowers. I liked her innocent smile …….so much of love. I recollect she was present at my wedding.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Ms. Avril: She had her straight hair neatly parted at the centre and wore thick rimmed glasses. She rarely smiled in class. Her geometry classes were simply superb. It helped me with my Engineering drawings. She taught us simple things like how to sharpen a pencil, the angle at which one should hold it while joining two given points in order to draw a straight line—not bolder nor lighter; and even how to erase a line…….. simply note worthy! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Mrs Teresa: Her Algebra classes were similar to an express train …exuberant! She stressed on the importance of practicing our sums regularly. This helped me gain speed to tackle math problems at a later stage.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Indran: Our peon who used to ring the Chapatti shaped bell, one among the various duties assigned to him; not failing to render any of them though and fulfilled with total enthusiasm.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Georgia','serif'; font-size: 9pt;">Looking out from the 2nd floor of the primary section, I remember once seeing a few whales which seemed to have had lost direction, funneling water like a fountain as they passed by. I saw big ships sailing by in the distant horizon, taking away with it the boredom of the afternoon sessions. Standing near the grotto, I could feel the chill breeze blow. I remember the games we played….’Sixteen stones’, ‘Help’ and the ‘rubber mittais’, ‘lovlolis’ from the Gujarati’s shop we looked forward to eat and not to forget the frozen sip-ups sold at Ms. Avril’s place were all simply delicious. Look out for me in the <em>'MCC Reunion - On a Trip Down Memory Lane'</em> video link<em>.</em></span></span></span></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-47822369004983385992010-10-14T19:24:00.011+05:302010-11-30T19:43:59.208+05:30<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><span color:purple;mso-bidi-font-style:italic?="" sans-serif??,?serif?;="" style="font-family: ';"><span style="color: purple;">A Time to Reflect</span> </span></strong></div><strong><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="color: #741b47;">By Sreelatha Kumar ('85 Batch)</span></span></span></em></span></span></strong><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TMfqFfHxhvI/AAAAAAAABA4/lkUHxnS-1rI/s1600/sreelatha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TMfqFfHxhvI/AAAAAAAABA4/lkUHxnS-1rI/s1600/sreelatha.jpg" /></a><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">25 years is a long time – could well be one third of one’s life. 2010 was a really blessed year. It was a great boon from above when our Facebook school contacts grew and grew this year- finally to culminate in tracing nearly the whole of our school batch, except for six more… and having our silver jubilee meeting in a most memorable way on July 24, 2010. This was when we had hardly seen any of our classmates for decades!!! Little did we</span><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 9pt;"> know that ours was the 100<sup>th</sup> batch to pass out of Mount Carmel’s hallowed halls - our twenty fifth year of passing out coincided with the school’s 125<sup>th<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></sup>year of existence,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and it was so very strangely celebrated in the same month at school- on July 15. </span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 9pt;">After passing out of Mount Carmel in 1985, I had barely any contact with anyone, except for a few close friends. One moved on with college, work, marriage- time spent in Kollam was never more than two months at a stretch. No mobiles, no internet, no contacts- how one earth does one really keep in touch with snail mail?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Schooldays had become a distant memory- really fuzzy around the edges, you can say like a tapestry with huge holes in between! But yet a few sharp images seem to be recorded in my brain. Memories are like moths trapped within an old chest- once the lid is pried open, they fly out in a veritable flurry. You may not remember everything in sequence, or the so called momentous happenings… but you are left with a few snapshots that have stuck in your mind somewhere. You can watch me on the <em>'MCC Reunion - What are we up to these days'</em> Video Link.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-73930327672646568382010-10-14T16:47:00.006+05:302010-11-23T14:26:29.963+05:30<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt;">Mount Carmel – in the 70s and 80s.…</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 9pt;">By Sreelatha Kumar ('85 Batch)</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TMfqRjDeu8I/AAAAAAAABA8/HsI6pon_IgM/s1600/sreelatha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aTNH3N9j2y4/TMfqRjDeu8I/AAAAAAAABA8/HsI6pon_IgM/s1600/sreelatha.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 9pt;"><span style="color: #990000;">I remember the one and only time, in 8<sup>th</sup> std I suppose, when we practiced the traditional Kerala Thiruvathira Kali. Our school (MCC) had this ‘refined atmosphere’ where I think we thought we were freshly imported from England- we spoke entirely in English, read only English novels, sang English songs, wore western clothes - I think we effectively forgot that we were part of a predominantly Malayalam speaking society. So doing Thiruvathira Kali was definitely out of the ordinary. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sreevidya was one of those who taught us the steps. My frustration at being unable to get even one step right still lingers in my mind. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother helped with the make up, which is the only time I remember her having stepped into the portals of our new school block. (Just think of the number of PTA’s we attend for our kids today!). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 9pt;">I remember sitting with my friends near the grotto eating our packed lunch, from where we could hear the roar of the waves hitting the shores in the background. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can still visualize, the grainy beach-sand coating our legs, as we watched the kindergarteners climb up the scratchy surfaced sand-coloured playground slide. </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 9pt;">I remember the novelty of our batch being the first one to incorporate the ‘extra’ subject in ICSE and the choice of P.E, and Home Science, the coming to school on Saturdays for basketball, learning the rudiments of Volleyball. For some reason Mary John’s face comes to mind, maybe she was a good volleyball player? I remember enjoying our 10th std, feeling seniormost in the school, taking on the extra workload of studies and the sheer fear gripping me as the public exams approached.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493414394727718332.post-80745019017104756662010-01-17T10:28:00.000+05:302012-02-07T10:32:59.489+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I remember, our school assembly began with the news reading session which I hated the most. However, it was the 'thought for the day' that I always looked forward to. Occasionally, the assembly lasted long and the sweltering heat of the tropical sun was too much to bear for those who had skipped breakfast. Every morning our school principal played western classical music (Mozart or Beethoven) in an attempt to lift our spirits while we marched up to our classrooms. It sounded so surreal to us back then as the music blasted through the loud speakers that were mounted at prominent positions around the school building.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Before we made our way to the classrooms, the house leaders took their positions to stand guard on us to see if our uniforms were in order, shoes were without heels, no jewellery, colourful ribbons or bindis worn and certainly no long or polished nails! Many a times I trembled with fear as they drew near me wondering if they would find something wrong with me that day and breathed a great sigh of relief when I passed undetected.</span></span></div>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0