Posted by : Spn. Raj Baruah (aka Boijayanta Baruah) 1966 Batch Hello Everybody, My first Principal in St. Edmunds School, in 1961, Rev Bro R. B. Oman (who was also my Class Teacher in Class IX) is presently 92 years old and lives in Goa, in a chummery for retired Christian Brothers who served in Indian schools, under the order of Edmund Ignatius Rice. In response to my request to him for writing the Foreword of a book that I have written, titled My Days in St. Edmunds School, which is awaiting publication, I received a response from him, which is indeed nostalgic, heart-warming and evocative that I could not resist from sharing with you all. ______________________________________________________ Dear Raj, These days the words of a poem by W.B.Yeats come frequently to my mind: When you are old and gray and full of sleep And nodding by the fire, take down this book And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep The first line describes my condition perfectly. If I dont nod by the fire I have the welcome heat of Goa to lull me into frequent slumber. Unfortunately, like Padraic Colums Poor Scholar, my eyelids red and heavy are and I am unable to read. My dreams are ephemeral; they are like hazy spectres beckoning to me with silent music and confused colour. The memories are all mixed up - years merge, the past is indistinguishable from the present. The future is a total blank. I grasp at straws (as the drowning man is reported to do) in an effort to hang on to reality. But yet through my confused brain there are occasional shafts of light. A song or a poem or a name strikes a responsive chord. And I love the welcome familiarity of the daily Mass - An tAifreann binn (the sweet Mass - as we say in the Gaelic). Im fascinated by names, whether of people or places, and I find myself repeating them unexpectedly and savouring their beauty. Shillong and St. Edmunds are such words. Invariably like a favourite mantra they fill me with joy and peace. Individual events and experiences are lost but the melody lingers on. It is delightful and gladdens the heart of an old man. Im told that I spent a long time in the Khasi Hills. I often say to those who enquire, I spent many years in Shillong and enjoyed every minute of them. There must have been some unpleasantness but I cant remember it. At this time of my life the memories of Shillong are unalloyed joy. I am honoured to be asked by Raj Baruah to write the foreword to his book describing his days in St. Edmunds. When I hear the book read to me Im sure my heart will with pleasure fill and dance among the Khasi Hills. (Sorry, Mr. Wordsworth!) To return to Colums Poor Scholar! And I must walk this road that winds Twixt bog and bog, while east there lies A city with its men and books With treasures open to the wise Heart-words from equals, comrade-looks One of the problems of living too long is that one outlives ones peers; friends are gone and I feel like one who treads alone Some banquet hall deserted. Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead And all but he departed. Shillong, St. Edmunds, is my city of the east. In my heart I know that there I revelled in the meeting of mental equivalents, in the literary challenges of school and college as we discussed Shakespeare and other writers. There were my confreres who spoke heart-words. They are still absently present to me. I thank God for them all. And I thank Him profoundly for all the wonderful boys and staff members who added such happiness and fulfillment to my life. Khublei shibun eh! Brother R. B. Oman cfc ______________________________________________________ Incidentally Bro Oman taught me English in Class IX and to my mind he is by far the greatest exponent of the English language that I had the privilege to meet in my entire life ! Cheers ! Raj Baruah
Posted on: Mon, 14 Apr 2014 07:41:39 +0000
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