I was born on 4th Karkadakom 1089 (19 July, 1914) a Sunday, at 4 p.m., in Ammachi’s home at Keezhvaipur. I have no information about my early childhood which was spent at the family home in the village of Kumbanad. I grew up like any other child of the village.

A primary school started functioning in Kumbanad in 1912 and so I did not have to go, as my elders did for primary education, to distant places. Otherwise, the nearest primary schools were in Vallamkulam and Kavungumprayar, both about six or seven KM away. In 1918 another primary school came up south of the existing one. Both the schools were built by the local people and handed over to the government. Soon the first one became a school for boys only and the other for girls and were named as such - Boys' School and Girls' School. I have a faint memory of the Girls' School being built. It is a moot point if we, brothers and sisters, would have advanced so much in education had there been no primary schools in Kumbanad.

One incident of the primary school days stands out in my memory. It happened, I think, in 3rd class. The Malayalam text book carried a picture of the body of a grown up man. I took it upon myself to mark the various parts of the body and in the process wrote down the names of all anatomical parts, from head to foot, present and not present in the picture. This description in full of the anatomy of a man by a small child took the wind out of the head master, to whom the matter was referred. He inspected my text and promptly reported the "indecent behavior" to my father who was also prompt in "rewarding" me on my thighs with a good pliable stick.

There were no roads in Kumbanad except the Tiruvalla-Kozhencherry road. The next road was the Kumbanad-Arattupuzha road. The present Kumbanad-Arattupuzha road was then only a village road used by bullock carts. It was very uneven and was covered like a canopy by bushes overhanging from either sides. Sun could hardly penetrate it which made the road dark and frightening even during school hours. I remember the elders and fathers digging and leveling the side bunds to make a broad road. This must have been in 1921 or 1922.

Traffic through rivers and waterways was very popular in the absence of any road transport. There were regular goods and passenger traffic on country boats between Alleppey - the big trading centre - and the eastern regions. Products of the hill regions of the east to the west; provisions, clothes etc. from Alleppy to the east all moved by such boats. It was therefore necessary to have a road connection to Arattupuzha (the nearest ferry point on river Pamba) from these interior parts for the to and fro passage of goods - by bullock carts, of course. Next to come was the Kumbanad-Othera road.

I haven’t seen my grandfather since he passed away even when my father was a small child. Grandmother was very fond of me. (I have seen both the grandfather and grandmother on my mother’s side). As the eldest child Ammachi often took my help in the discharge of her daily chores at home and I served Valiammachi almost in all her needs which my age would permit. Seven or eight was sufficiently grown up age for such chores and I remember at that age to have gone to the shops for purchase of provisions. We used to carry baskets to the shops; its size depending upon the quantity or items to be purchased. No basket, no supply; that was the shopkeeper’s attitude.

Valiammachi used to take bath usually once a week, in specially prepared warm water. Several kinds of herbal leaves in a particular type of copper vessel (then in daily use in the house) filled almost to the brim with water were heated together to a fairly high temperature and then cooled down to usable heat. The warm leaves were used to foment joints and aching parts of the body. Soap was never used. Its name was familiar but it remained a luxury. A separate pot of mildly lukewarm water would be ready for the head. A herbal preparation was used for washing the hair. Collecting all these herbs or leaves, heating the water on a fire place out in the open near the well, and pouring the lukewarm water over her head in a stream as from a fountain, while she washed her hair, were all duties allocated to me. I considered them as pleasant duties since it was a service to Valiammachi. There was no bathroom and bath was often taken in the backyard. It was no taboo, as a small boy of 8 or 10 years, my helping Valiammachi at her bath. She would be wearing a loin cloth. The blouse or the Kerala style "Chatta" was not worn usually by elderly women. The only time I have seen her wearing a "Chatta" was to go to Church once in the year to take part in Holy Communion during Passion week. At other times she would have a small cloth called "Kuriyandu" wrapped round her trunk so as to cover the breasts. I have seen three other old women, all her cousins of the third generation, walking about dressed in similar fashion. (These three were the Valiammachis of Valiaveetil, Kochupurackal and Nellimala). Even at work this small cloth would remain in position.

She constantly suffered from a sort of stomach ache. Like a tennis ball her belly would swell and it would travel upwards towards the chest giving her agonising pain. The remedy was massage, applying "Kuzhambu" for as long as the swelling subsided and normality reached. Perhaps the agony would turn her thirsty, because it always ended in her taking hot black coffee. Needless to say that the massage as well as preparing the coffee in the kitchen using firewood and serving it to her were all my burden of the day, no matter when she got the attack; morning, evening or dead of night. They were happy days. Such chores were not felt as taxing or burdensome.

Her hands used to shiver and I used to hold firm her drinks for her. She always used to take her food in the kitchen sitting near the fireplace which was at floor level in those days. Either you sit on your haunches or bend down for cooking or tending the fire. I could not see her in her last days; when she expired in early 1943 I was living in a tent in Drigh Road Air Force Station on the outskirts of Karachi, now in Pakistan. I was there for training on some type of bomber aircraft which Air Force was getting from U.S.A. With patience and fortitude she built up the Theckethil family through her fifty years of widowed life.

The shivering of the hands was inherited by my father. Two of Valiammachi’s brothers, both younger to her, had the shivering. I have seen them even after Valiammachi’s expiry. In fact, the younger of the two, a priest of the Mar Thoma Church, conducted my marriage in church. Is this a family trait descending from Valiammachi’s side? My hands now, especially the left, do experience shivering though only in a mild form.

There were no hospitals or doctors nearby. The wife of Mr. Noel, a Brethren Missionary settled in Kumbanad, said to be trained in nursing, conducted a clinic for outpatients. Then there were two other persons - both Ezhavas - living a little over one KM south of us, who practiced Ayurveda. Their knowledge of the medicine was limited to what they acquired hereditarily. Two of my brothers died as babes, one immediately after me, of whom I have no memory, and the other just elder to Mathaikutty, whom I clearly remember. He died of pneumonia and was ill for less than three days only. He was taken to Mrs. Noel who did some treatment. I have a strong feeling that had we the services of a paediatrician or at least a MBBS doctor, these babes would have been still living. But then even the term paediatrician was not heard of and a MBBS doctor was too rare a phenomenon in those days - 75 or 80 years ago. My sister Pennamma had serious typhoid and suffered for many days. Both Mrs. Noel and Ayurveda proved of no avail. Mr. Koshy, an homoepathy doctor doing private practice at Puramattom, then, through his prayerful treatment saved her life.

The nearest hospitals were at Kozhencherry and Tiruvalla, both government hospitals. There were no doctors doing private practice. Bullock cart was the only means of transport. Going to a hospital was considered by everyone as the last stage, not the first as in these days. George had some stomach ache or pain as a baby. He used to get it only in the nights at intermittent intervals. He used to twist his body and moved from side to side indicating severe pain. Ayurveda seemed to have prevailed over his malady.

There was an Anchal as well as a Post Office in Kumbanad. This Post Office, called an Experimental office (which means not a full-fledged office doing all the postal business) was the only post office serving a vast area bounded by the limits of the four post offices Kozhencherry, Mallappally, Tiruvalla and Chengannur on the four sides. There was no Peon nor any delivery of letters. Inhabitants in this vast area had to walk up to Kumbanad for postal work or to post or take delivery of letters. Money order transaction was also allowed. However, business at the Post Ofice was not extensive because the full business within the State (Travancore) was through Anchal offices and there were only a very limited number of persons from these areas working outside the State requiring postal transactions.

An Anchal office served the same purpose as a post office but only within the state and by a mutual understanding, within the state of Cochin too. Like the Post Office, the Anchal office at Kumbanad was also an Experimental office. Its head office was at Eraviperoor where all transactions could be conducted. All Anchal offices were merged into the Post Offices after Independence. Where both offices were in operation, only one was maintained as in Kumbanad.

Right from the start of its establishment till its merger with the postal system, Appachen’s elder brother (T.T. Mathai) worked as the Anchal Master. For a short period when he was sick, Appachen served as Anchal Master. The system of Anchal (internal postal system within an Indian State) was a special privilege granted to certain Indian States only by the British, the ruling power then in India.

Nearby us there were only one or two small provision shops. The nearest was more than a kilometer away. For bigger purchases one had to go to Arattupuzha. For marriages and such other functions, purchases (including fish) were from Changanacherry. While in the Primary school and in the lower classes of English school - that is, between the ages 6-10, I used to often go alone to the local shops after school hours for purchase of provisions. Shops were often crowded in the evenings and a small boy could not easily make his voice heard by the shopkeeper. By the time one got what he wanted it would be dark. One held his breath in his hand and often sang loudly to ward off all fears while walking back home, along dark, bush-covered, narrow lanes, often with a load far too heavy for the age. Facing a snake, mostly poisonous too, was too common in this trek home. I was ten when Appachen started his provision shop in partnership with one of his first cousins and I heaved a sigh of relief. No more fearsome treks through dark and snake-infested lanes.

Almost every family had small areas of paddy field obtained through inheritance. Paddy was cultivated twice a year depending entirely on nature. It was a tedious operation. Paddy fields as well as land used to be ploughed using oxen. I remember to have ploughed both land and paddy field when I was grown up, say 16-18 years.

Harvesting jobs were tiresome too. As a boy of 12 and more, at every harvest time I used to sleep alone under a temporary shelter out in a deserted open field, to guard the paddy sheaths or paddy or hay. What guarding I did, I don’t know, but I know I slept well during those nights and felt no fear. Looking back now I wonder how I did it. But times were different.

The paddy was half boiled at home, then dried in the sun, and then hand pounded to get rice for cooking. We had a small room, called "Paddy Pounding Room" attached to the kitchen building (since dismantled) solely for this purpose. There were no rice mills close by. The nearest one was at Pulikeezh, about 15 KM away. One or two times a year a good quantity of boiled and dried paddy would be taken to the mill for pounding. One or two cousins and Appachen would join together, hire a bullock cart and take a full load of paddy to the mill. Leaving by about 8 a.m. after breakfast, the party would return only in the night any time between 8 and 10 p.m. - one full day’s job and no lunch either! Only the Arattupuzha road was there and approach to the house was through a lane just wide enough for a bullock cart to pass. On arrival, one would shout for light and I would go with a lighted torch, prepared out of coconut palm fronds, and kept ready for use, and lead the cart and men to the gate.

The gate of the house in those days was in no way similar to the present one. It was a laterite construction. One climbed three or four steps and reached a platform and then descended an equal number of steps on the other side to be in the compound of the house. There were no shutters (doors). It was dismantled when I was perhaps 10 or 12 years old. Laterite foundation stones are still visible at the present gate.

Later a rice mill operated at Arattupuzha and after some years another one at Eraviperoor, both on the banks of the rivers Pamba and Manimala respectively. Appachen was already busy with the provision shop so I used to go to these mills with paddy. We had by then a bullock cart of our own, owned as part of the shop establishment.

Certain Indian States like Travancore, Hyderabad, etc. were permitted to issue their own coins valid in the respective states only. The coin system of Travancore was like this. The smallest value coin was the cash and the highest a Circar (meaning Govt.) rupee. The coinage table was:

16 cash = 1 chakram; 4 chakrams = 1 panam

7 panams (or 28 chakrams) = 1 rupee

This rupee was less, by half a chakram, than the British rupee which was in circulation in British India. The imperialists thus maintained their supremacy in coinage too. Their coinage in India was: 12 pice = I anna; 16 annas = 1 rupee.

The present rupee now divided into 100 paise is the same as this British rupee. Those who are interested can deduce the relationship between the coinage systems:

1 rupee = 100 Ps = 16 annas = 28 1/2 chakrams.

These coins were valid in all other Indian States also.

While in the Primary School we learned the two coinage systems - the Circar and British - and converting one to the other. Similarly in the lower classes of the English school we had to learn the coinage in use in England. They are in use even now. It is:

12 pence = 1 shilling; 20 shillings = 1 pound

21 shillings = 1 guinea; 2 1/2 shillings = 1 crown

Converting these into rupees, annas, pice, or vice versa was also a part of Arithmetic. This money conversion was the biggest nightmare for almost all children.

In 1923 I passed out of the primary school. Appachen and I took my transfer certificate from the Head Master and I gave him the traditional 'mamul' present. It was the practice in those days to give a present to the Head Master of the Primary school on the occasion of taking the transfer certificate. I too gave this big present of one rupee! The Head Master would be very pleased - and should be, as a person drawing only Rs 16/- or Rs 18/- per month. Such presents make up 1 1/2 or 2 months pay every year in a school of average strength. Straight we went to Eraviperoor and I was admitted in St. John’s English Middle School there. Next year it was raised to a high school level and the veteran educationist, Mr. C.P. Thomas, B.A., L.T., took over as Headmaster. This was a blessing because I could complete my Secondary School education there which was a distance of about two KM to walk one way; otherwise I would have had to walk up and down and cross a ferry too - very dangerous in rainy season - to the nearest high school at Kozhencherry, a distance of 6 KM or more one way. I passed every year.

One of my childhood memories is my visit to Keezhvaipur with Ammachi. All maternal uncles, Valiappachen and Valiammachi would be there. Along with children the house would always fill with about twenty or more souls in it. They had then four or five pairs of oxen and many Harijans as their labourers. The uncles and even Valiappachen would go with them to the paddy fields about 2km away, through narrow lanes winding between compounds. We boys used to accompany them. It was interesting to watch a row of oxen being yoked and the field ploughed. Wives of the uncles would follow a little later with rice and other necessary materials to prepare lunch for all those working in the paddy field. One of the wives was from a house adjacent to the field so the cooking would be in that house. We boys (my cousins - sons of the uncles) would also eat with them and then return home, driving the oxen along. On some occasions my cousin from Punnaveli would be present. (Ammachi's elder sister was married in a family in Punnaveli). We were almost the same age but he expired long ago. So also the eldest son of my eldest uncle. We three cousins formed a trio in childhood days.

The annual trek to the Maramon Convention with Appachen and/or Ammachi carrying lunch packet for all of us, got ready in plantain leaves, was at that tender age no burden. That lunch had a special taste and flavour. Seeing the two Methrachens - Titus II Mar Thoma the Metropolitan and Dr. Abraham Mar Thoma, the Suffragon Metropolitan - the only two bishops of the church, in their coloured costumes was very pleasing, though it raised awe and reverence in the mind. Seeing them itself was a rare event. Wading through a stretch of river water, sometimes waist high, to reach the convention pandal was a rare pleasure and a still rarer opportunity.

A still earlier memory lingers about a marriage at Keezhvaipur. More than one couple was involved. Perhaps it was the marriage of two uncles and Ammachi's younger sister. I got a shirt, I remember, as a present then.

Marriages were grand, festive occasions. Invitations would go far and wide to all relations. Even distant relations were not excluded. 6-10 children, often on the larger side, were very common in all families. As far as possible everyone would be invited for all the marriages. Relations would start pouring in two or three days earlier than the day of marriage and some would stay one or two days after that too. It was an occasion of happy and joyful meetings. It was a free time for children for merry making. To elders it was an occasion for discussion of their family matters in all its aspects and gathering information on various matters. Women maintained their gossip while preparing food for all. If the number was large the kitchen hearth would be too small for all the preparations. Suitable fire places would be made outside. Even for the actual marriage feast, each and every item was prepared at home. Different members of the family and immediate relations, both men and women, joined together to complete all cooking. Extra hands or outside cooks were utilized to the minimum. Serving was also done among themselves. A "Pandal" or a pucca thatched shed during rainy season would be put up covering the whole front courtyard. And for such purposes houses would keep the front courtyard area big. When the number was large, all eating or feasting would be in the Pandal, but no chairs or benches or desks were used. Bamboo mats would cover the earth in the Pandal. Plates would be dispensed with and all eating was in Plantain leaves. Even guests of the marriage party ate sitting on the floor in the Pandal but they would always be served first. In my school and college days I have taken part in this cooking and serving. On the marriage day a good number of poor people and beggars would assemble and they too would be served a full meal. Some of them would carry it home.

The bride/bridegroom, before proceeding to church, would invariably give a present - usually money - wrapped in betel leaves to the person or teacher who taught the first lesson or alphabets to them. Marriages were conducted only on Mondays or Thursdays. (Catholics and Jacobites preferred Sundays too). Dowry was in vogue but not on the enormous scale as now. There was compulsory payment to church also. The marriage party whether of bride or bridegroom, walked all the way to the church where the marriage was to be held. Cars were not thought of. But by the time marriages of those younger to me were held in the family, cars were in common use. But then it was all after the great World War when a sea change occured in society.

The kitchen block which was dismantled before the present building was constructed, was still under construction and had no doors but cooking was still done in it when, a few houses away, one Mathai of Kololil house murdered his wife and a child one evening. Being a very rare event of the times, this was a very sensational event among the people in and around Kumbanad. Ammachi was too scared to go to the doorless kitchen after dark and I remember to have spent many evenings giving company to her in the kitchen till the doors were fixed. I wonder what strength or courage a tiny boy of seven or eight could have given, but then such fears are one of the frailties of man. (I remember to have met Kololil Mathai after he came out of the Central jail after serving incarceration for a life term).

Appachen had entered business by opening a provision shop in partnership with a cousin of his. This was a calculated wise step on his part to supplement the meager income of the family. We were short of paddy yield for the whole year’s use and had to purchase paddy for at least 3-4 month’s requirement. We children were growing and needs were on the increase. All the profit from the shop was spent on education. This was supplemented by all what I could spare after I became employed. Even after I began to live with family outside Kerala and three or four children were born to us, after meeting the barest minimum of our needs, whatever could be spared was spent on education of the younger ones in the family. This attention and emphasis on education enabled all brothers to be graduates and post graduates leading to securing for all a good footing in life. By the time the education of all was completed, not only was all the profit but a lion’s share of the capital put in the shop was also used up forcing Appachen to wind up the business.

Appachen’s full time engagement in the shop added heavily to my part in the daily chores at home, both in the house and in agricultural activities. I was only running twelve then. Every inch of the available land as well as the paddy field was then under cultivation almost wholly under my supervision and or joint labour with the labourers. Thus there is practically no work in the kitchen, the house, the land or the paddy field which I have not personally done. Labourers worked from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. And with them and as one of them I have ploughed, tilled and done all sorts of field work. To save labour and where it could be avoided, I did all the work on the land all by myself. In later years, when the shop was run by Appachen alone after the partnership with his cousin was dissolved, I managed the shop alone, particularly in the mornings and evenings.

We grew all the vegetables required in those days. Vegetable shops were non-existent. Bitter gourd, Snake gourd, Pumpkin, Ladies finger, different varieties of beans (payar), Chilly, etc. etc. were grown. They were all entirely my responsibility right from the time of getting the ground ready for planting seeds or saplings, to the removal of seeds and fruits at appropriate times. I watered them, erected pandals for creepers or plucked the yield before going to school. The "payar" or Bitter gourd I plucked would be turned out within a few minutes as the vegetable in my tiffin to school that day. These apart, we had major crops like coconut, banana, tapiocca, yams, colocasia, ginger, turmeric, etc.

All these were responsibilities that could neither be shirked nor defaulted and had to be promptly attended to day by day. Holidays and Saturdays would usually see me out in the fields with the labourers. Work would be so planned that I was available either for supervision or for manual labour with the labourers. Saturday evening to Sunday evening was a holiday to school studies - no reading, writing or home work. This was a strict discipline. Instead, Sunday school lessons and memory verses had to be studied. (I enforced this upon my children too and none of them suffered any disadvantage at school because of that). Attendance at church worship was compulsory. No excuses could be advanced. Before and after the church service many relations (mainly Appachen’s cousins) came home to meet Valiammachi. She was then one of the four surviving mothers of the third generation. Only one father survived then. If there was a special meeting or something similar in the church it had to be attended, even on week days. Any other local activity including marriages, deaths had to be attended. There was no exemption from anything.

All these pushed studying at home to the second place although study was considered very important or even sacred. Failure was sad and unbearable. But study never got pride of place in the daily routine of life. Watering a plant or a cow could not be defaulted or even postponed and there was no inclination whatsoever to ponder that a homework to be carried to school could not at all be defaulted either. I cannot remember a single occasion in all my school life when I got time in the morning on any day for study. Even during examination days it was so. However, I must say I did not even once feel worried or anxious about my studies. A firm confidence always reigned in my mind that I would not fail but would surely pass. And a pass was all that was counted in those days. There was no granting of grades or ranks in public examinations and therefore, in schools too. This made me to discharge any responsibilities at home wholeheartedly. As each day passed, I gained the unassailable confidence that I could easily manage these without causing any harm to my studies. I never felt them as a burden. I counted them as my duty and it was a pleasure then, as it is even now, to discharge duties failthfully and to the best of my abilities. And it was very satisfying to see the good yield of vegetable and other crops growing well. In later years when I was living with family outside Kerala, the experiences gained in this period proved of immense help and benefit in bearing the heavy burdens of those days. I could help my wife in the kitchen, help the children in their studies, run the house in quiet efficiency in cooperation with or in the absence of my wife and discharge my duties in military service in the best manner possible as required by the then existing demands. I may, in all humility, also add that I could be of great help to my friends and neighbours in tight situations. The burdens of childhood or youthood proved to be blessings in disguise preparing me for later life; or shall I say they moulded me for the future.

And I never met with any failure in term or final examinations in any year or class. This non-failure, I often thought, made my parents to take my pass as granted and encouraged them to press me into all sorts of work at home. The more I submitted, the more I got to do. Very often, especially when examinations were drawing near, I carried a book with me to the fields and reviewed large portions of different subjects there. Even walking along the narrow bunds in the paddy fields I used to read to revise my lessons. Or a baby would be in my lap when I did home work. I may here add that throughout my career I stood among the very few at the top of my class. Since no rank or grade was granted I cannot say the exact positon I secured in different subjects in different classes. But securing a second class in my degree examination is evidence enough to show that in spite of my disadvantages at studying I maintained a high position. Never was study a burden nor was any subject hard enough to cause any aversion to it. The self-confidence in me never made me complacent. I fully utilized whatever time I got, was regular with all my home work and kept notes correctly. Revision began well before examination time.

Side by side with English middle and high schools there were Malayalam middle and high schools too. The middle school ended with class VII with a public examination at its end, a pass in which was the minimum qualification for a Primary school teacher. All my teachers in the Primary school had only that basic qualification. Classes VIII and IX formed the high school which was still rarer than a middle school. Pass in the Public examination at the end of class IX made one eligible to teach in the middle school and malayalam in English high schools. Later, I taught science in such a Malayalam high school.

These Malayalam schools were mainly intended for the weaker sections of society who could not afford costlier English medium education. Fees were nominal and were kept low as an incentive to promote education among the weaker sections as well as girls. Those who passed class IX with English as optional subject could join an English high school in Form IV. The war of 1939-1945 and the years thereafter brought a lot of job opportunities and raised the financial position too and every one turned to English education. These factors saw the closure of these Malayalam schools.

Preparatory class (prep class) was the first class in an English school followed by Forms I, II, etc to Form VI, at the end of which was a Public examination, pass in which enabled a person to join college, teach in a middle school or take up Government or private appointments. Forms IV to VI (classes IX to XI) were the High School section.

In the first two years I was a member of the Boy Scouts in the school. There was some special scout gathering at Trivandrum ( I forget now what exactly it was) and all the Scouts from the State (of Travancore) assembled there. We travelled from the school in buses provided by the State (private buses hired for it; Government had no transport buses then) up to the Kottarakara Railway Station and then by train to the capital city. Pettah was the railway terminus then where we disembarked. All the Scouts with their Masters were accommodated in the Vanchiyoor High School building, a huge and spacious structure on a green field. That was my first long trip on a bus, first train journey and the first visit to Trivandrum. It was the first time I saw the zoo and the museum established in the park. Our Scout Master (and my class teacher) Mr. M.O. Ipe accompanied us.

In the last two years of the high school we had to study three optional subjects. I selected Physics, Chemistry, and Mathematics. In the public examination at the end of Form VI (called the Matriculation examination) I stood first in the school. I know for certain that my Mathematics teacher commended me to the future students after I left school.

Teachers were good and had the interests of the students always at heart. They knew each student by name and even their initials. An incident in my own life would illustrate how strong this teacher-student relationship was. It was the matriculation exam of 1930 and Mathematics I paper (Arithmetic). Out of six I did not know how to do two questions. The others were easy and I got out of the hall even before half time after doing the four questions I could. Shocked at my early departure, a teacher on supervision, (who never had me in any of his classes), clapped his hands, beckoned me to him and ordered me to go straightaway into the hall and complete the exam. I explained the situation and told him I had done all the problems I could and the others I did not know how to tackle. He took my answers, went inside, checked up with my Maths teacher, also on supervision, and came out. With a broad smile of satisfaction he waved me off. I was confident of scoring 100% in Maths II paper. I passed the matric exam that year taking first rank in the school.

There was no drum beating in those days about any State rank or first classes or rank in the various subjects. With hardly any moderation at any stage the percentage of pass was higher and standards certainly higher than they are in these days. If at all there was moderation it was never more than five marks. One word answer questions were unheard of and valuation was strict. Today so much noise is made about Literature graduates teaching English in high school classes. There was no subject such as Literature for study nor any degree in Literature in our school days. Any graduate could study Literature for post graduate degree. Any graduate could teach English in the High School. In fact, I held a license from the education department of the state government to teach English in high schools. Undoubtedly a matriculate of our days had a far higher standard in English than, forgive me, a graduate of these days. The very attitude of teachers to teaching has also changed for the worse.

Today admission in any institution which has any connection to education is a nightmare to both parents and their ward alike, be it college, a professional course, a school or even a kindergarten. I had a cousin then studying in U.C. College, Alwaye (Union Christian College). So on passing matriculation, I wrote to U.C. College, on a blank sheet of paper, seeking admission in Group I (Maths, Physics, and Chemistry) in the Intermediate class. Admission was granted - without certificates or mark sheets! After matriculation it was four years study in college for graduation; the first two years were known as Junior and Senior Intermediate; and the last two years as Junior and Senior B.A. classes. The four classes were written as Class I, II, III and IV.

I went to Alwaye with this cousin of mine who was then one year senior to me in college. (Mamutil K.M. Thomas). He took one more year to pass out and so was later my classmate for the degree course at Trivandrum. But he graduated only one year later than me. Far more pathetic is the case of another cousin of mine, K.J. Thomas of Purackal, Kochupurackal. He was my class teacher the year I joined English School at Eraviperoor. Then he went to study for his degree but he could not complete. Pass in one part out of three eluded him. Then when I was in the final year of the degree class he came to me and took the names of text books (English) for him to study and appear for the part he had yet to pass - a gap of eleven years! Poor soul! He didn’t succeed that time too. In the meantime he entered the Registration Department of the State Govt. and became due for promotion as Sub-Registrar. But he had to get his degree for the promotion. So he was writing the examination all these years - sometimes twice a year, March and September. In ‘35 or ‘36 he passed but he was a serious T.B. patient by the time. In 1937 when I was teaching in the local High School he came home too weak to attend to his work. Within a few weeks he breathed his last. A day or two later a Govt. letter addressed to him reached home. It announced his promotion to the Sub-Registrar grade!

Even in my college days there was no proper transport system in our state. The rare bus services that existed were slow moving, inconvenient and uncomfortable. Its body was not covered as it is now and one could creep in or out on all three sides. The two long sides had footboards. People travelled on it holding on to iron rods or the seats inside. Footboards were as crowded as the seats inside. Leaving home at about 4 p.m. I would reach Changanacherry boat jetty by about 7 p.m., sometimes after a change of bus at Tiruvalla. Bus leaves one at the road junction only about a mile away from the jetty. Often the distance was covered by walking. If the luggage (box of clothes and books and a bed roll) was light it was carried; otherwise a hand drawn rickshaw was hired on payment of an anna or an anna and a half (less than 10 Ps). Changanacherry to Ernakulam was a night’s journey by steamboat. Ernakulam-Alwaye (town) was usually covered by bus. From the town we reached college by walking again, hiring a porter (Coolie, as was then called) to carry heavy luggage. There was only a ferry boat to cross the Alwaye river and we used to pay the ferryman half an anna (3 Ps) per head per trip across the river.

I spent two happy years at U.C. College, Alwaye. I stayed in the Tagore Hostel (exclusively for class I students) in the first year and the Holland Hostel in the second year. (Tagore Hostel has, I am told, since been demolished). Hostel life gave me plenty of time in the evenings to play games - a welcome change from the routine at home where it was work and work every day all day long. I have received plenty of beatings in my early days in the English school for coming home late from school when I would stop either to play or watch a game. The college life was uneventful. There, for the first time, I saw the basketball game and used to play it daily. I took part in football also. Though it was the first time I was away from home for many days together I did not feel homesick or anxious.

It was while in the college that I received Holy Communion for the first time during a retreat for Mar Thoma Students. The college being a union institution of the three churches - Jacobites, Mar Thoma, and Anglican (later C.S.I.) - all the three denominations had their individual services on Sunday mornings and a common English Service in the evening, all in the college chapel. There was an evening common prayer every day in English in the hostels also. Hostels had a separate prayer room. It was in these English services that I first sang and learned English hymns. I was regular at all prayers and worships.

Veteran educationists and leading members of the churches were in the college as professors and hostel wardens. A.M. Varkey, who had established a reputation in the Madras University itself as a leading English teacher and professor was our Principal. He taught me English Prose while the famous K.C. Chacko - a classmate of the late Dr. Radhakrishnan, who was president of India - was my English tutor. He would speak appreciatively of my composition work and grudgingly give me 35% - just the pass mark! T.B. Ninan was my warden in Tagore Hostel and taught me Physics. Kuttipuram Krishna Pillai, who had established a high position in the literary world, was then our Malayalam lecturer. One year I attended Sunday Bible classes conducted by C.P. Mathew, a reputed leader of the Mar Thoma Church, while in the second year I joined K. Jacobs' Bible class. V.M. Ittyerah was my warden in Holland Hostel. Ananthanarayanan and Venkataraman were two Brahmins on the teaching staff who identified themselves with the college. The former taught me Chemistry. It was simply interesting to sit and listen to his classes. He looked like he was singing but it was all chemistry and chemistry only. I believe it was he who incited a desire in me to pursue the study of Chemistry for my degree course leaving aside Maths, which the college offered on a scholarship. Since I was not confident to take Maths, I declined the offer. It was but unfortunate I could not pursue the study any further. Venkataraman taught me Maths. He taught in the degree classes also. No one who has passed through the portals of U.C. College would ever forget these two noble Brahmin teachers. They are still known as the Hindu Christians of the college. Their memory will outshine for ever. Their teaching was superb; their love and concern for their students unparalleled. In my second year while staying in the Holland Hostel, M.G. Chandy (now the most Rev. Dr. Alexander Mar Thoma, Metropolitan of the Mar Thoma Church) was my hostel mate staying in the adjacent room. He was a Maths degree student under Venkataraman and one year senior to me, the year being 1931-32.

Food in the hostel mess was good with chicken, fried fish, and side dishes for meals and the Kerala special banana for breakfast for a payment of Rs 8/- per month. (Five or six years later when my brother George was there, the mess rates were still lower). Vegetarian food cost five and a half rupees only. Some preferred that food to save a small amount, even though not a vegetarian. It was a great saving then. I didn't and still don't like ghee and curd; otherwise perhaps I too would have become a vegetarian to save some money in the mess fees.

Room rent for a single room was Rs 1/75 while dhobi charged half an anna per piece. Kerchief was free (who had a kerchief?!!). Alwaye being close to Cochin, British coins were in greater circulation than in other parts of Travancore. Fees were about Rs 10/50 a month. In all, if one got Rs 25/- a month from home he was a rich man! But at home, with the grip of depression tightening every day, that was a big amount. Grateful praises to Appachen for the tenacious manner in which, against great odds, he laboured to maintain us, one after the other, in colleges and hostels.

Gopalan, the college barber, was an unforgettable character. He was regular in his visits to the hostels in rotation and would give you two salaams too after a hair cut when you placed an anna (6 Ps) in his hand. Do you think it was cheap? No, not at all. It was the cost of six coconuts! Which now fetch Rs 20/- or more. During the hair cut Gopalan would entertain you in his pleasing submissive tone with anecdotes dating from the starting days of the college; for right from those days he was the only barber for the whole college (staff and students alike). His attendance was regular after college hours and on holidays. He was a master of his job. He had an endless store of anecdotes about the past and present occupants of the college hill but never a bad word about anyone.

I passed out in 1932 with distinction in optional subjects. Distinction meant 60% marks or above. No one knew exact marks and there was no overall ranking then. Except in Maths, hardly anyone scored above 70% in any subject. Valuation was such.

Again, I wrote on a blank sheet of paper to the principal of His Highness the Maharaja’s College of Science, Trivandrum (now the Kerala University College of Science) seeking admission in Chemistry in the B.A. class. In a week’s time I got the admission card. What a contrast to the present struggle for a seat in a college! No mark lists, no interviews, just a letter fetches admission in a science subject! The next nearest college which offered Chemistry for the degree course was St. Joseph’s College in Trichinopoly or colleges in Madras City. There were no B.Sc. degrees in Madras University then. All colleges in Travancore and Cochin States were then affiliated to the Madras University. Even my Matriculation examination (end of Form VI) was under that University. Science graduates were given B.A. degrees. My science professors were all M.A., like professors in English or History.

Earlier I had applied to the LMS hostel (London Missionary Society hostel) and had obtained admission. In those days it took one full day’s journey to reach Trivandrum from home. Leaving home by about 6 a.m. one would consider himself lucky if he landed up in Trivandrum by about 6 or 7 p.m. Travelling bus would invariably break down once or even more. Often passengers would have to push it over long distances, ascents or hills not excluded. I travelled alone, joined and stayed in the hostel and reported to the college the next day, the due date to join. It was a day in June, 1932.

Alwaye had offered me a scholarship if I would continue my studies there for the degree. But Alwaye could offer me Mathematics only as my subject which I least liked of the three subjects I studied. Alwaye would select one or two students like that whom they considered as good at studies as well as in character and behavior. I was glad I found such favour but I could not accept it only because the college had no subject which I wished to study.

The two college years 1932-34 stand out as two happy and fruitful and unforgettable years of my life. Study did not pose any problem. With Chemistry as main and Physics as subsidiary (now known as minor) I graduated in 1934 scoring a second class in the subject, Chemistry. There were only two first classes that year from the whole of Madras University, of which one went to my friend and classmate.

My stay in the hostel was comfortable. I regularly attended the hostel prayers (in English) in the evenings. The warden, an LMS Christian, was then the director of industries in the Govt. of Travancore. My regular attendance at prayer impressed the warden and on many days he called upon me to lead the hostel prayer, a very rare honor for a student. It meant selecting and leading a hymn and then reading certain common prayers from a printed booklet.

In the hostel we had two messes, one for the LMS Christians and the other for us Syrian Christians who were fewer in number. Hindus were not taken in. Traditionally the two sections in the hostel (LMS and Syrian Christians) never got on well, for reasons unknown to me. It was almost like an inherent spite. Sometimes fights used to break out between the two and the Syrians, fewer in number, would be forced to leave the hostel. Calling upon me to lead the hostel prayers should be seen in this background.

In my second year of stay in the hostel I had to leave the hostel thus. I then joined the Y.M.C.A. hostel. It was there that I came to know Dr. M.M. Thomas, who was my room mate and one year junior to me in college. The founder-director of the Ecumemical Centre at Whitefield near Bangalore which attained international repute, Rev. Dr. M.A. Thomas was also in the hostel then. He was also a year junior to me in college but he was an History student and so his college was different. Rev. Dr. K.K. George was also then in my college and junior to me, (a class mate of Dr. M.M. Thomas - both Chemistry students) but lived in a lodge very close to the Y.M.C.A. I mention these names because they were all regular and ardent members of the prayer group (described below). M.A. Thomas was a very jolly fellow and we used to enter adjacent bathrooms which were directly under the raised stage of the Y.M.C.A. Auditorium. Both of us enjoyed loud singing in the bath room which would reverberate loudly much to the to the annoyance of the Y.M.C.A. Secretary because the noise would be a great nuisance to the meetings in progress in the auditorium. I must admit as youngsters we were a bit cheeky too earning a bit of the Secretary’s chiding.

Going back to the LMS hostel days, I used to stroll in the evenings in the museum or the park. It was very close to the hostel. But evenings soon became busy otherwise and visits to the park became very rare though often I cut across the park, entering by the gate at one end and going out by the gate at the opposite side. This was a short cut from the hostel to the Observatory hill which soon became a place of frequent visit.

Memory fails me a bit here but I think my going to Trivandrum was intimated in advance to P.C. Zachariah of Poozhikala (Kumbanad). He met me and a day or two later introduced me to one or two of his friends of which one was a Govt. employee and the other an officer in a bank. I still remember the bank officer asking me whether I had gone to Trivandrum to join St. Joseph’s High School!! He was taking me back by two years of college and three years of High School, thus a total of five years. And he was taken aback when Zachariah told him that I was a graduate student. Perhaps he could not imagine that so small a boy could be a college student. College students were big boys and girls in those days. In comparison I was of small build. Further I was only running 18 and no one could imagine a small boy like me as a college student and least of all as a graduate student. I remember in my class in the Chemistry section itself except for two or three of us others were of bigger and stronger build and obviously of a higher age group too. We had three girls in the class. During Practical class they worked on benches adjacent to mine. Unmarried, they also were big and looked like mothers.

P.C. Zachariah invited me to church on the very first Sunday itself and I was to reach his room which was on the way to church. He was in Trivandrum for a long time and was an active member of the church. Zachariah was jobless and in financial straits. His religious fervour was recognized by Rt. Rev. Dr. Abraham Mar Thoma Suffragon Metropolitan, who later recommended him for training in Theology at Serampore after I left college. Then he was ordained and worked as South Travancore Missionary with headquarters at Trivandrum. Later, when a fissure broke out in the church he took an active part in the formation of the Evangelical church. There were splits and schisms in that church also and Rev. Zachariah was the leader of one group. After establishing a Bible Training Centre at Kadapra (Kumbanad) in memory of his deceased wife, who was from Puthenveetil family of the greater Kumbanattu Kudumbam, he expired about two years ago (1994) at his permanent residence at Trivandrum.

The only Mar Thoma church in those days at Trivandrum was at Pattoor. The church building was just a shed like structure, situated on a small hillock. We crossed the cemetery to climb to the church. There was an organization for the youths of the Parish called "Youths Union" but it had not much of any activity. It was in a dormant state. All the youths of the parish were members of the union. There was no membership fee or register. The new college year brought some interested students - more in number too, I was told - who regularly took an active part in the Youth’s Union. A prayer group soon started functioning regularly on Saturday evenings. I joined it. Attendance was purely voluntary and the venue of assembly was the Observatory hill, which was then a deserted place in the evenings. A tank for storage of water for city water supply was then under construction on top of the hill but the workers left well before we gathered for prayer. There were some bushes on the hill with clear areas amidst them. We used to sit in a circle on the ground in one of those clearances.

Along with the students we had in the prayer group three or four elders of the Parish, including P.C. Zachariah and one K.V. Abraham. Abraham from Edathua, a Govt. employee is now settled in Trivandrum after retirement. He is more than 90 years of age. In the prayer group we developed a liking for each other in spite of the gap in our ages. He told me my prayer appealed to him. So when I met him in Sept. 1995 in his home at Trivandrum, after a gap of 61 years since I left college, he readily recognized me and had a lot to reminisce.

Among the elders we had an advocate, a bank officer, and two or three government employees. It was essentially a prayer group. 10-20 of us used to assemble. There were no hymns or sermons. All those who were desirous prayed for various subjects, all essentially intercessory prayers. It was entirely voluntary and informal, which went a long way to make it appealing as well as to establish friendly relations between those who assembled. (Also, one of the friends in the prayer group taught me cycling on his bicycle in the nights). Perhaps the informality and the warm cordiality that soon grew up kept the attendance high and regular. Those who could, used to meet on week days too but for students it was near impossible. After initial pleasantries, as many as so wished prayed for various topics. I attended regularly and used to pray on all days. This was my training to pray in public in groups or meetings. I loved it.

This prayer group was instrumental in resurrecting the Youth’s Union in the parish and I was unanimously elected its Secretary. There was a joint lady Secretary and one or two lady members too, all college students and staying in the Y.W.C.A. They only served to adorn committee meetings because girls did not come forward to take any leading part in any activity as they do now. The Union organised annual retreats and the youth of the parish attended in large numbers. The late Yuhanon Mar Thoma (then Deacon C.M. John and a teacher in the M.T. High School, Kottayam) was the leader one year.

It became difficult for me to return to the hostel before its only door outwards closed at 10 p.m. Meanwhile I had begun leading the evening prayers in the L.M.S. Hostel where I stayed and the warden had some knowledge of my activities. When I explained to him how my activities in the prayer group and the Youth's Union kept me out late into the night, he readily gave me permission to be absent from the hostel in the nights I wanted to be out. It was an extremely rare privilege. I and a close friend of mine living in a lodge were closely associated in all the above activities and we both used to spend such late nights in the Parish Priest's house. Together with Atchen we did a lot of work, during such nights, to strengthen the Union's activities.

The prayer group grew in popularity, attendance increased and was regular, and those who assembled, almost all prayed. Time was taken for intercessory prayers also. Rev. K.A. Varughese, the parish vicar, gave every encouragement to the youth. He was President of Youth’s Union too. The unity, understanding and comradeship that was established and nurtured in and through the prayer group found its outward expression in the activities of the Youth’s Union. The Union soon earned respect and appreciation of the Parish members. They lent their support to the activities of the Union.

Experiences gained from the regular prayer meetings and the Parish tour emboldened the Union to take up evangeilical work at Anayara, a village very near the sea coast and about 10 KM from the town. The church service was at 9 a.m. and on its conclusion by about 11 a.m. some of us left directly for the village walking all the distance from church. The way was sandy almost all along. Neither the hot sand nor the lack of any footwear (a leather sandal for Re 1/- or Rs 1/25 was a luxury then which few could afford) deterred us nor made us less enthusiastic at any time. At Anayara, we prayed, shared experiences and spoke about Jesus Christ and His life on earth to the assembled Hindu brethren. By the time we returned to the town and to our lodgings it would be about 4 p.m. I remember taking lunch and evening tea together. I had an understanding with the mess contractor - himself a devout Christian - to keep late lunch for me.

After about a year’s regular visit to Anayara and personal contact with many interested people, some of them accepted Jesus as their Saviour and were ready for baptism. Rt. Rev. Dr. Abraham Mar Thoma, Suffragon Metropolitan, baptised them on a Sunday at the Pattoor church, after church service, and the whole congregation that assembled had a common lunch along with the baptized. Tirumeni sat by the side of them and joined in the lunch. Among the Parish members were a High Court judge, a Secretary to Government, many high government officials and other local dignitaries.

The basic strength of the Youth's Union was the prayer group. Under the auspices of the Union a gospel team was organized to Kaithakuzhy (Chathannoor). We stayed there for three days, preached in meetings and more importantly met the youth in person to discuss their problems and pray with them.

There is nothing like success, and success leads to further ventures. The Youth’s Union next ventured to organise a Parish tour during the summer holidays in 1934. It was my final year in college and the approaching university exams would cover all what was taught in two years. There was plenty of correspondence and other works to do in connection with the forthcoming tour amidst the unavoidable burdens of preparing for my university examinations. I felt neither any burden nor any worries but did all the work under the guidance of the vicar. With the permission of the hostel warden I spent many nights in Atchen’s house in connection with the arrangements for the tour. It was a tour approved by the Sabha (Church) also and they selected the "Western Parishes" (Parishes west of Tiruvalla) for the tour.

For necessary preparation and briefing all those who joined the tour assembled and spent two days at S.C. Seminary, Tiruvalla. Rt. Rev. Dr. Abraham Mar Thoma and the Very Rev. V.P. Mammen, then Vicar General, were the leaders along with Rev. K.A. Varughese, vicar of the Trivandrum Parish. The Parishes, as arranged through correspondence, were very helpful and cooperative and undertook the boarding and lodging of the visitors. The tour was a great success and everything went off well as planned. The Parishes did not fail to express their appreciation of the work which was a novel venture among the youth.

This initiative, the faultless organisation and conduct of the Parish tour, planned and executed entirely by the youth and its creditable success left a deep impression upon Tirumeni and the Vicar General. Therein they saw the latent potential lying untapped in the youth of the church. It served as a driving impetus to organise the youth of the church and the result was the birth of "Youth League" in the church. The success of the tour encouraged the two great Servants of the Church to tap the potential which hitherto lay untapped. In 1994 the league celebrated its Diamond Jubilee. Quite fittingly, its valedictory meeting on the conclusion of a year long celebration was at Trivandrum with no less a person than the Vice-President of India as the chief guest. This brings out the tremendous influence the Trivandrum Youth's Union had in the formation of the Youth League in the church (which unfortunately, the present League leaders do not know, or are reluctant to recognize).

In 1934 for the first time Practical Exam in Organic Chemistry was introduced for the Degree exam. My exam fell on Good Friday according to the Malayalam Era which the State and the Church were following while the University observed the Gregorian calendar. I was very keen to go to church but I had no way of avoiding University exam. I progressed well in the Practicals. Midway through, the Professor on supervision came, saw the good progress I had made and congratulated me too. I completed the Practicals well before time but to my horror, while dismantling the apparatus, I accidentally spilled a portion of the liquid I had collected in the experiment. This meant a poor result and I could do nothing about it. There was no time to start again to repeat the experiment. So, leaving the test tube with what liquid was left in it, I left the hall and went straight to church. I was neither afraid nor worried about my result. That was the last exam and I was a free man. I entertained no fears. I returned to my hostel (then the Y.M.C.A.) only in the night. My friends rushed to me with news that my Professor sent word for me to see him. It was too late in the night and so early the next morning I met him in his house. With a smile he asked me, "Thomas, what happened? Was that test tube with very little solution in it yours?". He knew it was mine because my name was on it. He had seen more liquid in it even before I completed my test. So he was puzzled how it became so little. In brief I explained to him what happened and where I was when he sent for me. I think he enjoyed his student's predicament, and with that benign smile still on his face he told me not to worry and bid me adieu. Many a time have I remembered him and his excellent teaching. I could not meet him after that. Surely he is no more now.

This I mention as a second incident in my own life, where teachers or professors were considerate, had the well-being of their students at heart and dealt with them with love and care. Teaching to them was not a mere job but a mission to fulfill. I am happy to say that I had the privilege of being taught at school and at college by eminent and dedicated teachers who were men of high calibre and character holding high the virtues and values of life. I cannot forget my Headmaster of the High School who took a special class on a Saturday to complete the portions and went on explaining the use of the word 'the' and had not completed it even after two hours! There is a hue and cry in these days about fall in standards of learning and behaviour. But what about the standards of many of the teachers on whose shoulders squarely rest this fall?

The activities of the Youth’s Union had a profound influence upon me during my teenage period. It deepened my faith and trust in God. The prayer group served among other things as a training ground for me to pray loudly in public or in a group. The Youth's Union conducted yearly retreats also for students. In one year the late Yuhanon Tirumeni (then deacon C.M. John and a teacher at M.T. Seminary High School, Kottayam) was the leader. (I cannot forget it because it was during that retreat that along with a friend of mine we had to clean a lavatory).

I always took care that these activities even when the university exams were so near did not adversely affect my studies. At no time had I any fear of the coming exams. I fared well in the University examinations scoring a second class which was a high pass in those days. I could count a second class pass as a suitable reward too for my labours in the Youth’s Union. But a rude shock was awaiting me.

One day, soon after the results were out, two young men, both strangers to me, came home and introduced themselves as Theology students at Serampore Theological College and announced that they had come to take my signature on a railway form allowing concession to group of students travelling together - and this one for travel to Serampore, and that my name was one among them. Shocked to the hilt, I asked them what it all meant. They explained that a seat was procured for me (and a friend) by the Suffragon Metropolitan to study theology at Serampore (with the ultimate aim of ordination); and the railway form was a group concession form on which the signatures of all the persons mentioned therein were necessary. It was news to me, every bit of it. No one, at any time, anywhere, asked me if I was interested in pursuing theological studies, nor did any one directly or indirectly even give me a hint of what was being brewed up stealthily; yes, I was absolutely in the dark in this matter till the two men faced me with the railway form. Perhaps someone took it for granted that a young man who laboured so much for the Youth’s Union and that too, right in the midst of his university degree examination, could not but be an Atchen after graduation. To me it was not difficult to imagine who was the root cause of this muddle.

I believe the Parish Priest at Trivandrum was carried away by what I, and to a lesser extent my friend, did in the Youth’s Union and the prayer group; and took it for granted that after all what we did, we could not but be Atchens. Blindly he recommended us to the Suffragon Tirumeni keeping both of us entirely in the dark about it. Tirumeni, who was personally interested in getting more and more graduates ordained for the ministry, took it as a godsend and without a second thought, obtained admission for us from the principal of Serampore College who was a personal friend of Tirumeni. Both the Atchen and Tirumeni by this action did a grave injustice to me and to my friend, for, at no time did either of them even care to mention this matter to us.

I did not care to enquire or rake up things, although some people spread a canard that I backed out of my commitment becuase I got a second class. (A distinguished pass was so rare). But truth cannot be bent or hidden for the sake of the dead or the living. Some have tried to accuse me (us) of saying that I (we) reneged from my (our) commitment or consent. The question of reneging did or does not arise because no consent was ever asked for or given at any time. Also, in all honesty and frankness let me say that I never entertained any doubts at any time about getting that rank, and that confidence was amply corroborated by my progress record and vouched by term examination results etc. I was confident of it both before and after the examinations. By the time I learned of the canard, which was very late, I could not possibly rake up the matter because those who might have had a part in this unfortunate affair had all passed away. Having spent not even a moment’s thought about getting ordained I could not accept the fait accompli and needless to say, I did not sign the form.

Now, as I write this, after having lived through the vicissitudes of life for 62 long years after the event, I can vouch that I have thought about this affair many a time but have felt no regrets and no sense of guilt at any time. My conscience is crystal clear and I still believe that I was not meant for the ministry. I neither backed out from anything nor did I go back upon anything. I am only happy and contented that in my sojourn through life, within my humble limits, I have not failed to serve the Church.

A few weeks later, my friend came all the way from his home in Aiyroor to see me. I saw him coming from a distance, and from that distance, he shouted, "Hi, cheated, fully cheated." My experience still fresh in my mind, I could quickly grasp what he meant. He was undergoing the same experience. Sorrow and disappointment were writ largely upon his face which used to be always bright and cheerful. We were like twins in working for the Youth’s Union and our "rewards" were also identical. He passed off with the burden and I still bear it. I did not meet him again and any time, every time I remember him, those last words of sorrow ring in my ears and make me doubly sad. My friend is no more.

The funny part of all this was, I later learned, our names were telegraphically recommended and admission secured at Serampore. So intimate was the relationship between the principal of the Serampore college and Suffragon Tirumeni. I had knowledge of this close friendship even earlier. What surprises me even today is why did Tirumeni not care to call or see me or my friend, before, or even after, sending his telegram, regardless of how trustworthy the person who recommended us to him might have been. Didn’t we deserve that much courtesy, at least?

There was no chance for higher education. There were no post-graduate colleges anywhere near by. Finance imposed insurmountable problems. To get employed was the next thing to do. So many efforts were made in different directions. It was a period of the worst depression not only in Kerala but, as I learned later, all over the world. Jobs were few and securing one a near impossibility. I had one or two lady cousins employed as lady teachers in Ceylon (Sri Lanka). Getting a few addresses from their father (Pastor P.E. Mammen, Puthen Banglavil) I wrote to several schools seeking a teacher’s post. I was told a teacher’s post was easy to get in Ceylon and my cousins were only graduates. A graduate degree was enough then to teach in a High or Secondary school. However, not a single school even cared to acknowledge my application. I had to count the postage spent as a loss!

The period of heavy, economic depression was still lingering. The depression was so great and wide spread that jobs were few and salaries low. Agricultural products fetched only nominal values. When I was in college, a hundred coconuts fetched a mere rupee - one pice for a nut! Six pice would fetch 4 chicken eggs! Money was so scarce that eggs had to be sold at that incredibly low price. Almost all houses kept chicken and had eggs but rarely anyone, nay, not even small children ate them. Egg and milk which form a daily serving to children nowadays were only heard of in our growing ages. One bag of boiled rice was sold in a retail shop for just Rs 5/- and if the gunny bag was returned, its value of six pice would be refunded! Rs 20-25 per month was more than enough both at Alwaye and Trivandrum while I was in college.

When in need one knocks at various doors. So I travelled to Madras (my first long distance journey and visit to Madras) where my cousin John Easaw (Nadavallil) was then and stayed with him. He was a very elderly cousin, the same age as my father. The idea was to search for a job with his help. (His son Yousuf was then about four years, I think). But within three or four weeks he left Madras on securing a job at Quilon. So I shifted to live in a lodge with two of his step brothers (George and John - the former expired at Kumbanad and the latter at Singapore where he was employed) who were then in Madras but unemployed. After two or three months I got a small job with M/S Spencer and Co. at their head office on Mount Road as an Accounts clerk. I liked the job but it offered no prospects and so, after about a year of service I packed up and returned home in 1936 (April, I think).

The talk then naturally turned to my going to somewhere in the present state of Malaysia after contacting some cousins there. But all those who mattered in the counsels of the family were against sending me out of the country before marriage, though I was only running 22 and it was not late for marriage.

Here I would like to add three unforgettable events or incidents of my early life. I do not have a vivid memory of all the details of the first incident. I was perhaps five or six years old then. Ammachi and I went to Edathua. I do not remember the details of the visit but I remember that from Edathua we went by steam boat to Alleppey to visit her younger sister whose husband was employed there in a company. There are many canals, broad and narrow, in Edathua and some narrow piece of wood or even an arreca trunk served as a bridge across them. One day my cousin sister took me to the neighbouring house. Water and bridges were all new to me and I was scared to get over the narrow bridge. She offered to help and stretched out her hand. Still scared, I resisted and pushed her hand off; and in a moment I fell into the water. The water was not deep but for a small boy it was deep enough to drown. Fortunately, the woman of the neighbouring house saw from a distance what happened. She came running and straight away jumping into the water lifted me up. Had she not seen it and rushed to save me.....?

The second incident occured two or three years later. I have in my previous treatise (Kumbanattu Kudumbam) discussed this and so I am omitting details. This is the collapse of the high front wall of the church when seconds before I was sitting immediately beneath it. Why did a piece of plaster fall down at first? Why did it attract my attention so much? Was it indeed a warning to me to run and save myself? Had I ignored it surely I would not have been alive beyond that moment. What prompted me to run?

The third incident happened during my stay in Madras. I was returning to our lodge after going somewhere on a borrowed bicycle. Tram cars used to run on Madras roads on tracks laid for them along the middle of the road. Trams are heavier and bigger than a 60 seater bus. I was turning a corner and a Tram came in the opposite direction to take the same turn. Either due to my misjudgment, or even my ignorance of the position the body of the Tram would take during a turn, instead of stopping till the Tram passed, I rode on to take the turn. It was dangerous. Onlookers stood aghast and held their breath to see the inevitable. Some even cried "Aiyoh". By a hair's breadth I crossed the Tram. A hit would have been fatal. I was then a little over twenty. Another eventful sixty years have rolled by.

Why, why was I saved from these near fatal situations on three different occasions in early life? Providence must have had a good reason and a purpose. Have I lived up to it or have I failed? I hope I have not failed.

A Malayalam High School started functioning in Kumbanad from the school year in June 1936. All subjects were taught in Malayalam. English was only an optional subject with History as an alternate subject. It was about three months since I returned from Madras; I was still unemployed and hoping to go out of the country, if necessary, in search of a job. The school at Kumbanad could not get a suitable teacher for Science and I was requested to fill the post. I had not applied for it. Majority of the portions in Physics and Chemistry taught in an English school was taught here in Malayalam. Wherever possible, Malayalam terms or words, were used; otherwise English words were used. I take it that I fared well as a science teacher because the first batch of students sent up for public examination brought second position for the school in the State and 98% pass in the subject I taught. It would be interesting to know that my salary was Circar Rs 16/- PM (Rs 15/70) and I got an increment of Rs 2/- next year making the pay Circar Rs 18/- PM (Rs 17/60).

While still in the school, drawing the above salary I got married on 12th January, 1939 to Aleyamma (Aleykutty), daughter of Benjamin and Mariamma of Thelappurath family, a branch of the larger Palakkunnath family of Maramon. Appachen’s youngest maternal uncle was an elderly Atchen and he assisted Rt. Rev. Mathews Mar Athanesius Episcopa who officiated. She was then almost twenty years old.

Our headmaster also got married on the same day. With two teachers out of five away, the school could not work and it was declared a holiday for the school. Both of us returned to work the next day.

Aleykutty's elder brother was then in Karachi with family as a civilian employee in the Defence Department of the Government of India. I left alone for Karachi in November 1939, first by train to Bombay and then by ship to Karachi. My friends received me at Bombay. After two days with them they saw me off on the ship. That was my first journey on a ship. At Karachi harbour my brother-in-law received me. About a month later, I was selected in the Indian Air Force to undergo training as a radio technician at Ambala and was taken there by train. There I reached in shivering cold on the midnight of 17 December.

On 18th December, 1939, I signed to serve in His Majesty's Armed Forces - a signature of far reaching consequences that kept me bound for another 30 years.