The Educator Online

Monday Morning
It was Monday morning. Swaminathan was reluctant to open his eyes. He
considered Monday specially unpleasant in the calendar. After the delicious
freedom of Saturday and Sunday, it was difficult to get into the Monday mood of
work and discipline. He shuddered at the very thought of school: that dismal yellow building; the fire-eyed Vedanayagam, his class-teacher; and the Head Master with his thin long cane….
By eight he was at his desk in his ‘room’, which was only a corner in his
father’s dressing-room. He had a table on which all his things, his coat, cap, slate, ink-bottle, and books, were thrown in a confused heap. He sat on his stool and shut his eyes to recollect what work he had for the day: first of course there was Arithmetic–those five puzzles in Profit and Loss; then there was English–he had to copy down a page from his Eighth Lesson, and write dictionary meanings of difficult words; and then there was Geography.
And only two hours before him to do all this heap of work and get ready for
the school! Fire-eyed Vedanayagam was presiding over the class with his back to the long window. Through its bars one saw a bit of the drill ground and a corner of the veranda of the Infant Standards. There were huge windows on the left showing vast open grounds bound at the other extreme by the railway embankment. To Swaminathan existence in the classroom was possible only because he could watch the toddlers of the Infant Standards falling over one another, and through the windows on the left see the 12.30 mail gliding over the embankment, booming and rattling while passing over the Sarayu Bridge. The first hour passed

of quietly. The second they had Arithmetic. Vedanayagam went out and returned in a few minutes in the role of an Arithmetic teacher. He droned on monotonously. Swaminathan was terribly bored. His teacher’s voice was beginning to get on his nerves. He felt sleepy.
The teacher called for home exercises. Swaminathan left his seat, jumped
on the platform, and placed his note-book on the table. While the teacher was
scrutinizing the sums, Swaminathan was gazing on his face, which seemed so
tame at close quarters. His criticism of the teacher’s face was that his eyes were
too near each other, that there was more hair on his chin than one saw from the
bench, and that he was very very bad-looking. His reverie was disturbed. He felt a terrible pain in the soft flesh above his left elbow. The teacher was pinching him with one hand, and with the other, crossing out all the sums. He wrote ‘Very Bad’ at the bottom of the page, flung the note-book in Swaminathan’s face, and drove him back to his seat.
Next period they had History. The boys looked forward to it eagerly. It was
taken by D. Pillai, who had earned a name in the school for kindness and good
humour. He was reputed to have never frowned or sworn at the boys at any time.
His method of teaching History conformed to no canon of education. He told the
boys with a wealth of detail the private histories of Vasco da Gama, Clive,
Hastings, and others. When he described the various fights in History, one heard
the clash of arms and the groans of the slain. He was the despair of the Head
Master whenever the latter stole along the corridor with noiseless steps on his
rounds of inspection.
The Scripture period was the last in the morning. It was not such a dull
hour after all. There were moments in it that brought stirring pictures before one:
the Red Sea cleaving and making way for the Israelites; the physical feats of
Samson; Jesus rising from the grave; and so on. The only trouble was that the
Scripture master, Mr Ebenezar, was a fanatic.

‘Oh, wretched idiots!’ the teacher said, clenching his fists, Why do you
worship dirty, lifeless, wooden idols and stone images? Can they talk? No. Can
they see? No. Can they bless you? No. Can they take you to Heaven? No. Why?
Because they have no life. What did your Gods do when Mohammed of Gazni
smashed them to pieces, trod upon them, and constructed out of them steps for his lavatory? If those idols and images had life, why did they not parry Mohammed’s onslaughts?’
He then turned to Christianity. ‘Now see our Lord Jesus. He could cure the
sick, relieve the poor, and take us to Heaven. He was a real God. Trust him and he
will take you to Heaven; the kingdom of Heaven is within us.’ Tears rolled down
Ebenezar’s cheeks when he pictured Jesus before him. Next moment his face
became purple with rage as he thought of Sri Krishna: “Did our Jesus go gadding
about with dancing girls like your Krishna? Did our Jesus go about stealing butter
like that archscoundrel Krishna’? Did our Jesus practice dark tricks on those
around him?’
He paused for breath. The teacher was intolerable to-day. Swaminathan’s
blood boiled. He got up and asked, ‘If he did not, why was he crucified?’ The
teacher told him that he might come to him at the end of the period and learn it in private. Emboldened by this mild reply, Swaminathan put to him another question, ‘If he was a God, why did he eat flesh and fish and drink wine?’ As a brahmin boy it was inconceivable to him that a God should be a non-vegetarian. In answer to this, Ebenezar left his seat, advanced slowly towards Swaminathan, and tried to wrench his left ear off.
Next day Swaminathan was at school early. There was still half an hour
before the bell. He usually spent such an interval in running round the school or in playing the Digging Game under the huge Tamarind tree. But to-day he sat apart, sunk in thought. He had a thick letter in his pocket. He felt guilty when he touched

its edge with his fingers. He called himself an utter idiot for having told his father
about Ebenezar the night before during the meal.
As soon as the bell rang, he walked into the Head Master’s room and
handed him a letter. The Head Master’s face became serious when he read:
Sir,
‘I beg to inform you that my son Swaminathan of the First Form, A section,
was assaulted by his Scripture Master yesterday in a fanatical rage. I hear that he
is always most insulting and provoking in his references to the Hindu religion. It is bound to have a bad effect upon the boys. This is not the place for me to dwell
upon the necessity for toleration in these matters.
I am also informed that when my son got up to have a few doubts cleared,
he was roughly handled by the same teacher. His ears were still red when he came home last evening.
The one conclusion that I can come to is that you do not want nonChristian boys in your school. If it is so, you may kindly inform us as we are quite
willing to withdraw our boys and send them elsewhere. I may remind you that
Albert Mission School is not the only school that this town, Malgudi, possesses. I
hope you will be kind enough to inquire into the matter and favour me with a reply.
If not, I regret to inform you, I shall be constrained to draw the attention of higher
authorities to these Unchristian practices.
I have the honour to be,
Sir,
Your most obedient servant,
W. T. Sreenivasan.’

When Swaminathan came out of the room, the whole school crowded
round him and hung on his lips. But he treated inquisitive questions with haughty
indifference. He honoured only four persons with his confidence. Those were the
four that he liked and admired most in his class. The first was Somu, the Monitor,
who carried himself with such an easy air. He set about his business, whatever it
was, with absolute confidence and calmness. He was known to be chummy even
with the teachers. No teacher ever put to him a question in the class. It could not
be said that he shone brilliantly as a student. It was believed that only the Head
Master could reprimand him. He was more or less the uncle of the class.
Then there was Mani, the mighty Good-For-Nothing. He towered above all
the other boys of the class. He seldom brought any books to the class, and never
bothered about home-work. He came to the class, monopolised the last bench, and
slept bravely. No teacher ever tried to prod him.
It was said that a new teacher who once tried it very nearly lost his life.
Mani bullied all strangers that came his way, be they big or small. People usually
slunk aside when he passed. Wearing his cap at an angle, with a Tamil novel
under his arm, he had been coming to the school ever since the old school peon
could remember. In most of the classes he stayed longer than his friends did.
Swaminathan was proud of his friendship. While others crouched in awe, he -could
address him as ‘Mani’ with gusto and pat him on the back familiarly. Swaminathan
admiringly asked whence Mani derived his power. Mani replied that he had a pair
of wooden clubs at home with which he would break the backs of those that dared
to tamper with him.
Then there was Sankar, the most brilliant boy of the class. He solved any
problem that was given to him in five minutes, and always managed to border on
90 %. There was a belief among a section of the boys that if only he started crossexamining the teachers the teachers would be nowhere. Another section asserted
that Sankar was a dud and that he learnt all the problems and their solution in

advance by his sycophancy. He was said to receive his 90% as a result of washing
clothes for his masters. He could speak to the teachers in English in the open
class. He knew all the rivers, mountains, and countries in the world. He could
repeat History in his sleep. Grammar was child’s play to him. His face was radiant
with intelligence, though his nose was almost always damp, and though he came to
the class with his hair braided and with flowers in it. Swaminathan looked on him as
a marvel. He was very happy when he made Mani see eye to eye with him and
admit Sankar to their company. Mani liked him in his own way and brought down
his heavy fist on Sankar’s back whenever he felt inclined to demonstrate his
affection. He would scratch his head and ask where the blithering fool of a scraggy
youngster got all that brain from and why he should not part with a little of it.
The fourth friend was Samuel known as the ‘Pea’ on account of his size.
There was nothing outstanding about him. He was just ordinary, no outstanding
virtue of muscle or intellect. He was as bad in Arithmetic as Swaminathan was. He
was as apprehensive, weak, and nervous, about things as Swaminathan was. The
bond between them was laughter. They were able to see together the same
absurdities and incongruities in things. The most trivial and unnoticeable thing to
others would tickle them to death.
When Swaminathan told them what action his father had taken in the
Scripture Master affair, there was a murmur of approval. Somu was the first to
express it, by bestowing on his admirer a broad grin. Sankar looked serious and
said, ‘Whatever others might say, you did right in setting your father to the job.’ The
mighty Mani half closed his eyes and grunted an approval of sorts. He was only
sorry that the matter should have been handled by elders. He saw no sense in it.
Things of this kind should not be allowed to go beyond the four walls of the
classroom. If he were Swaminathan, he would have closed the whole incident at
the beginning by hurling an ink bottle, if nothing bigger was available, at the

teacher. Well, there was no harm in what Swaminathan had done; he would have
done infinitely worse by keeping quiet.
However, let the Scripture Master look out: Mani had decided to wring his
neck and break his back. Samuel the Pea, found himself in an acutely
embarrassing position. On the one hand, he felt constrained to utter some remark.
On the other, he was a Christian and saw nothing wrong in Ebenezar’s
observations, which seemed to be only an amplification of one of the
Commandments. He felt that his right place was on Ebenezar’s side. He managed
to escape by making scathing comments on Ebenezar’s dress and appearance and
leaving it at that.
The class had got wind of the affair. When the Scripture period arrived
there was a general expectation of some dramatic denouement. But nothing
happened. Ebenezar went on as merrily as ever. He had taken the trouble that day
to plod through Baghavad Gita, and this generous piece of writing lends itself to
any interpretation. In Ebenezar’s hand it served as a weapon against Hinduism.
His tone was as vigorous as ever, but in his denunciation there was more
scholarship. He pulled Baghavad Gita to pieces, after raising Hinduism on its base.
Step by step he was reaching the sublime heights of rhetoric. The class Bible lay
uncared for on the table.
The Head Master glided in. Ebenezar halted, pushing back his chair, and
rose, greatly Hurried. He looked questioningly at the Head Master. The Head
Master grimly asked him to go on. Ebenezar had meanwhile stealthily inserted a
finger into the pages of the closed Bible. On the word of command from the Head
Master, he tried to look sweet and relaxed his brow, which was knit in fury. He then
opened his book where the finger marked and began to read at random. It
happened to be the Nativity of Christ. The great event had occurred. There the
divine occupant was in the manger. The Wise Men of the East were faithfully
following the Star.

The boys attended in their usual abstracted way. It made little difference to
them whether Ebenezar was making a study of Hinduism in the light of Baghavad
Gita or was merely describing the Nativity of Christ.
The Head Master listened for a while and, in an undertone, demanded an
explanation. They were nearing the terminal examination and Ebenezar had still
not gone beyond the Nativity. When would he reach the Crucifixion and
Resurrection, and begin to revise? Ebenezar was flabbergasted. He could not think
of anything to say. He made a bare escape by hinting that that particular day of the
week, he usually devoted to a rambling revision. Oh, no! He was not as far behind
as that. He was in the proximity of the Last Supper. At the end of the day
Swaminathan was summoned to the Head Master’s room. As soon as he received
the note, he had an impulse to run home. And when he expressed it, Mani took him
in his hands, propelled him through to the Head Master’s room, and gave him a
gentle push in. Swaminathan staggered before the Head Master.
Ebenezar was sitting on a stool, looking sheepish. The Head Master
asked: ‘What is the trouble, Swaminathan?’
Oh–nothing, sir,’ Swaminathan replied.
‘If it is nothing, why this letter?’
‘Oh!’ Swaminathan ejaculated uncertainly.
Ebenezar attempted to smile. Swaminathan wished to be well out of the
whole affair. He felt he would not mind if a hundred Ebenezars said a thousand
times worse things about the Gods.
You know why I am here?’ asked the Head Master.
Swaminathan searched for an answer: the Head Master might be there to
receive letters from boys’ parents; he might be there to flay Ebenezars alive; he
might be there to deliver six cuts with his cane every Monday at twelve o’clock. And
above all why this question?
‘I don’t know, sir,’ Swaminathan replied innocently.

‘I am here to look after you,’ said the Head Master.
Swaminathan was relieved to find that the question had such a simple
answer.
‘And so continued the Head Master, ‘you must come to me if you want any
help, before you go to your father.’
Swaminathan furtively glanced at Ebenezar, who writhed in his chair.
‘I am sorry,’ said the Head Master, ‘that you should have been so foolish as
to go to your father about this simple matter. I shall look into it. Take this letter to
your father.
Swaminathan took the letter and shot out of the room with great relief.

Education and Oppression: The chapter depicts the oppressive nature of the educational system under British colonial rule. Swami’s experiences at school, particularly with teachers like Vedanayagam and Mr. Ebenezar, highlight the restrictive and sometimes discriminatory practices within the institution.

Innocence, Family, and Growing Up: Swami’s initial reluctance to face the challenges of school reflects his youthful innocence and self-centeredness. However, his interactions with his father and friends, as well as his confrontation with authority figures, mark the beginning of his journey towards maturity and awareness of the world around him.

The Political and the Personal Under British Colonial Rule: The chapter subtly explores the broader implications of colonialism on Indian society, as seen through the lens of Swami’s school experiences. His father’s intervention against discrimination and the Headmaster’s response reflect the intersection of personal and political struggles within the colonial context.

The Fluidity of Identity: The introduction of Swami’s friends, each with their distinct personalities and backgrounds, hints at the complexity of identity formation. Swami’s evolving relationships with his friends and his father contribute to his understanding of self and society, challenging the notion of fixed identities.