Khushwant Singh, S.Nihal Singh. M.V.Kamath, Sham Lal, Nanpuria and of course Kuldip Nayar amongst the surviving , greatly enamoured me. In 1966, as a student of B.Sc Part I in Bhagalpur's TNB college, I also admired my Hindi teacher Prof. Damodar Hari, whose flair in the spoken Hindi language was so hypnotic, that the classes he engaged drew crowds of students from other sections and classes too, compelling the actual class inmates to endure standing positions in the over packed class room. My remaining glued to his lectures cast a direct impact on my my interest in writing, enabling me in the result to score 64% in Hindi literature paper which I answered in camouflaged language without even comprehending what was the exact content elicited. In those times, this was close to the highest percentage awarded.
My over interest in Hindi language did, therefore, let me achieve extra yards in the subject, but it impacted negatively on two counts.
First was Hindi grammar , in which paper I could laboriously fetch as low as just 50% whereas even an average student would score as high marks as if it were a Mathematics paper.
The other casualty was English literature paper in which in the terminal examination, my examiner who happened to be a family friend of my father, called me. Virtually throwing the answer book I wrote, on my face, he abusively asked me to goggle through the pages that were flooded with red inked lines. I found a number if big red circles drawn around the words and sentences , such as 'tample', 'hypocryet', and many more. I was asked to work out the sum total of the marks awarded against questions, which I could quickly calculate before spelling out the sum total. It was 24, just 9 marks below the pass marks 33.
So I didn't just earn the grace marks to fill up the deficit, I also got another thing awarded. An inspiration, to overcome that deficiency in me which had occasioned the above episode in my life, in stark contrast to the outstanding mark I had effortlessly made in its Hindi counterpart.
This explains how I got interested in the luminaries of English journalism I recounted at the outset.
So, it was around late sixties when this exercise begun , in which another close family friend of my father, a retired Head Master of a Railway School in Sahibgunj , now in Jharkhabd State, uncle Arthur Mundle became my guide.
The one simple lesson he prescribed for me seemed not so efficacious, but once I followed it, I realised I was in error , having undermined the instruction.
The simple instruction I got was to subscribe to just two journals, the Statesman and the TOI. I did. As instructed, I would go through the editorial pages, with a pen in hand to give a non-stop reading with such little pause only as to let me underline the words or sentences found unintelligible or difficult.
The next thing to do after a mindless reading without comprehension was to turn to the dictionary I was asked to keep by my side to find the word meaning of the underlined words that failed to register its meaning. Upon finds its meaning, I would ink up such dictionary meanings by the side of the words or in the margin. Then, as instructed, I would give a second reading . The difference it made was obvious. I would also make entries of those newly deciphered words and expressions in a duly indexed copy, which I kept revisiting during idle hours which I used to have in plenty in those days.
In course of this exercise the celebrities of Indian journalism not just endeared, but also enriched me.
How much or how soon I got enriched became obvious when uncle Mundle asked me to notice and to report to him whether the number of underlines I was marking was gradually reducing day after day and if so st what pace.
Let me state, this practice of holding a pen to underline an unintelligible word , expression or sentence , continues, though its numbers are not too many, but the same are nevertheless not wholly absent.
But the unfortunate thing is that I have lost touch with Hindi reading and writing and am placed in virtually the same position with respect to it, where I had once stood in terms of English language, when Surender Babu, my revered professor of English, now no more, had admonished me after throwing my answer book on my face.
As months rolled by, the read marking became fewer. Even this day , my habit is unaltered though the markings have become scanty. It's getting scantier is not a matter of concern, but what really leaves me wondering is my difficulty that has graduated into different area. Now I am unable to find much substance in the writings and rather fail to digest the tricks inherent therein which in early days our writers did not either practice or attempt at mastering.
My over interest in Hindi language did, therefore, let me achieve extra yards in the subject, but it impacted negatively on two counts.
First was Hindi grammar , in which paper I could laboriously fetch as low as just 50% whereas even an average student would score as high marks as if it were a Mathematics paper.
The other casualty was English literature paper in which in the terminal examination, my examiner who happened to be a family friend of my father, called me. Virtually throwing the answer book I wrote, on my face, he abusively asked me to goggle through the pages that were flooded with red inked lines. I found a number if big red circles drawn around the words and sentences , such as 'tample', 'hypocryet', and many more. I was asked to work out the sum total of the marks awarded against questions, which I could quickly calculate before spelling out the sum total. It was 24, just 9 marks below the pass marks 33.
So I didn't just earn the grace marks to fill up the deficit, I also got another thing awarded. An inspiration, to overcome that deficiency in me which had occasioned the above episode in my life, in stark contrast to the outstanding mark I had effortlessly made in its Hindi counterpart.
This explains how I got interested in the luminaries of English journalism I recounted at the outset.
So, it was around late sixties when this exercise begun , in which another close family friend of my father, a retired Head Master of a Railway School in Sahibgunj , now in Jharkhabd State, uncle Arthur Mundle became my guide.
The one simple lesson he prescribed for me seemed not so efficacious, but once I followed it, I realised I was in error , having undermined the instruction.
The simple instruction I got was to subscribe to just two journals, the Statesman and the TOI. I did. As instructed, I would go through the editorial pages, with a pen in hand to give a non-stop reading with such little pause only as to let me underline the words or sentences found unintelligible or difficult.
The next thing to do after a mindless reading without comprehension was to turn to the dictionary I was asked to keep by my side to find the word meaning of the underlined words that failed to register its meaning. Upon finds its meaning, I would ink up such dictionary meanings by the side of the words or in the margin. Then, as instructed, I would give a second reading . The difference it made was obvious. I would also make entries of those newly deciphered words and expressions in a duly indexed copy, which I kept revisiting during idle hours which I used to have in plenty in those days.
In course of this exercise the celebrities of Indian journalism not just endeared, but also enriched me.
How much or how soon I got enriched became obvious when uncle Mundle asked me to notice and to report to him whether the number of underlines I was marking was gradually reducing day after day and if so st what pace.
Let me state, this practice of holding a pen to underline an unintelligible word , expression or sentence , continues, though its numbers are not too many, but the same are nevertheless not wholly absent.
But the unfortunate thing is that I have lost touch with Hindi reading and writing and am placed in virtually the same position with respect to it, where I had once stood in terms of English language, when Surender Babu, my revered professor of English, now no more, had admonished me after throwing my answer book on my face.
As months rolled by, the read marking became fewer. Even this day , my habit is unaltered though the markings have become scanty. It's getting scantier is not a matter of concern, but what really leaves me wondering is my difficulty that has graduated into different area. Now I am unable to find much substance in the writings and rather fail to digest the tricks inherent therein which in early days our writers did not either practice or attempt at mastering.
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