January 12, 1981 gave me my finest moment of fellowship. I was concluding my bicycle tour girding the globe, when in New York’s John F Kennedy Airport, I met a special boy. This “boy” was 60 years of age; at the Pan Am airline terminal, official Ashok Parekh and I exchanged notes and realized that we had our founding education at a common alma mater. While I went through the six years in Chetpet, Ashok had his “forms” in George Town, where our School was serving from, those days. The discovery that both of us were Madras Christian College School, made the day truly memorable for Ashok and I.
It would be another 28 years before I would make it again to John F Kennedy airport, flying across the Atlantic. The London- New York flight on Kuwait Air is truly a pleasant surprise; sometimes the cheapest fares come with the greatest service!
Before leaving Chennai, a call from America’s East Coast is another surprise; it’s from Sri Raghavan, younger brother of classmate Murali Dharan. Sri is also an MCC School alumnus, from the class of 1983 and this junior boy invites me to his home across the Hudson river in New Jersey state.
When we used to be kids and were growing up, our elders would say, “My! How you’ve changed!” New York’s change has been good and bad from this writer’s perspective. The highway linking the airport and midtown New York pales in comparison with the baddest ones in the north of my home town, Madras; in the 28 years I have been away, the connecting road in New York does not seem to have been topped or tended to; the rocky ride makes me toss on the bus seat. After an hour it seems better, when I realize that I have only become used to the bumps and pits enroute!
The spirit of MCC School’s fellowship has not changed, though; Sri and I are meeting after 30 years and we get going down memory lane. This “boy” is today a leading vacation and holiday consultant, placing clients at the best accommodations at the best holiday centres around the world. Sri also knows every square inch of New York City and he guides me to all the lesser-known sights that are as lovely as the famous ones. In addition, at their 17th floor apartment, Sri’s spouse, Mt. Sinai hospital’s radiologist, Dr. Arati plays a great host(ess), and the two days speed away just like that!
India’s largest Bank is also among the world’s biggest. State Bank’s prudent lending has made it the market leader, steady in a world of topsy-turvy financial markets, especially America, where the hitherto “largest” banks started seeking State largesse and the “best” banks simply went bust!. In this scenario, if an Indian bank does creditably well in the U.S., it is due to top class leadership. My visit to State Bank’s American headquarters is all the more memorable; heading the institution is 1971 MCCSian, Pradeep Kumar. Pradeep hides his banking acumen with his disarming smile and talks about his days at School, the cricket matches where umpiring was a permanent fixture for this pint-sized achiever, nicknamed, “thatha” (old man) by class mates!
America has changed; it has changed the names of our boys living there. Sriram Bhuvaraghavan has shortened to Sri Raghavan. His brother, Muralidharan Bhuvaraghavan has simply become Murali Dharan. At Nashville, Tennessee, classmate Sundaram tells me about his friend, R.Kuppuswamy who used to be called “Kuppu” by friends. Kuppu R, has become Westernised; his official name is now Dr. Cooper! However, one name change tops it all. A 1967 alumnus, based in Texas, tells me about his years under Head Master Mathias and about his illustrious batch mates. He finally adds that his name in School was Gnanadorai David Sathiaraj, and that he changed it to David Raj. I wonder why he dropped the wisdom (gnanam) and the very truth (sathia) from his original name?
If America has given delicious cupsful of MCCS fellowship, Australia, Down Under, seems to vie with it with an equally tasty treat. There is a small joke we boys used to hear at School. Our teacher, Albert, used to tell us that in Australia, people celebrate Christmas only in summer. Perplexed as we were, relief came in the teacher’s answer; December is summertime Down Under!
Thinking of Mr. Albert’s question, I laugh in my seat on Emirates Air flight from Auckland, New Zealand, as the bird prepares to touch down in Sydney Australia. Spouse Ann and I in the past weeks, have been criss-crossing the two countries by plane. All along, it has been no-frills budget flights where we have to pay a tidy sum even for drinking water on the plane. However, Emirates’ food and refreshments are “on the house” and we experience true heaven in the heavens.
 Sydney Opera House Sydney Airport is connected directly by rail to the city and its suburbs. However, the Sydney CityRail extracts its pound of flesh for this facility. Boarding the train, we go to visit the famed Opera House, and the cost is 15 dollars for a ride of 11 kms. However, from the Opera House, our train journey to suburban Macarthur station is almost 50 kms, long, and the fare is just about 5 dollars. It is funny when you pay three times the cost for a journey that is only a fifth of the distance of another! In fact, our train stopped at the Airport station during our long journey to Macarthur. I point this anomaly to MCC School classmate Vinod Daniel. This Divisional Director of the Sydney Museum jumps to defend Sydney CityRail as tolls and charges being necessary for availing of development facilities. At the Daniel residence in Sydney, Vinod and I have a big laugh about it, though regretfully at my own cost!
It has been Vinod who has been inviting me to Oz (as Australia is also known) all these years. It is only now that I have really made it. If Vinod is delighted with his visitor from Madras, spouse Shanti enlivens the evening with her grand dinner, where Alan Isaac & Leonard Ponraj (1978) and Vinod Kumar (1981) make it a great MCCS reunion; the first meeting of a soon-to-evolve Sydney OBA chapter.
 With Suresh @ Adelaide Cricket Oval Adelaide, South Australia, is a city of splendid churches that compete with the famous cricket oval. Classmate Suresh Gupta, who moved from Madras’ Anna Nagar to Adelaide’s Burnside Town, is a structural engineer. Suresh is already very popular with the Adelaide Indian community, continuing on his trait at School. You could name an Indian and Suresh would almost definitely be his friend in the lovely city. Suresh drives us to the Oval, when he points out a fact about the road we are riding on. “It’s called the Million Dollar Way”, says Suresh, explaining that every year, all the money is earned by the City authorities as fines levied on speeding, law-breaking motorists! He also points out to passing “road trains”, huge, very long trucks.
Crossing the fountain pond, we enter the Oval. A thrill passes through our bodies as we pose in front of the Sir Don Bradman Stand. Later in the evening, we enjoy the lovely beach and then drive to suburban Burnside, Suresh’s home. We first stop at the Burnside Library, where novels by Indian writers line along with a surprising variety of Tamil language books. Tamil is the language we guys speak in Madras. Of course, English is still King!
The Gupta residence is all cheer. Here, at the doorway, a divine, elephant-like “Pillaiyar” image seems to bless all. Every day, the Gupta family has a few curious visitors asking about the significance of the “deity”, while Suresh’s folks tell them that it is this “Pillaiyar” that is the Lord protector in Hindu mythology. It is now late evening and Ramaa readies dinner and sets the alarm for her kids (and us) to wake up in time after midnight to view, live, the Indian Premier League cricket match being beamed from so far away. Morning is yet not born when Suresh drives us to the airport for us to get on the next plane to Melbourne. When I leave for the boarding gate, I thank this “boy”, nicknamed “bull dog” at School.
 With Jerry (2nd Right) at Bangkok We are now a group of five and on our way to Rangoon, Burma, and have just flown from Malaysia and touched down on Krung Thep’s Suvarnabhoomi (Indian name, meaning “golden earth”) International airport. This Krung Thep airport is an architectural marvel. By the way, Krung Thep is how the people of Thailand refer to their capital city, Bangkok. Now, Suvarnabhoomi airport is huge and confusing and my classmate Venkatachalam asks me how we are going to spend the night before boarding the flight to Burma. Well, I assure him that Bangkok, the magnificent city is brilliant at night and hence its nightlife is not to be missed. I also assure him that travel and sightseeing have been arranged, thanks to a mail I had earlier received from a School Junior, who promised to meet us when our flight would land in that unearthly hour. True to his promise, this “boy”, Jeremiah Moses Jefferson is there, waiting for us. He arranges for a taxi to the city, hosts us to a sumptuous midnight dinner, shows us shopping malls, the dancing halls and the karaoke spots, before reaching the airport “flyway”, an elevated highway that would soon connect the airport directly to the city; an ambitious, long flyover project designed by his Company, Siemens. As the night hours gradually change to early morning, our taxi zips back from the darkness into the shining lights of Suvarnabhoomi airport. As our plane takes off and flies north by northwest, we smile at the events of the night; the Bangkok experience may have been brief, but Jerry, with his infectious laughter was one “boy” whose fellowship and companionship made sure it was “super” for all of us.
Text & Pictures by M J Krishna. The author is an alumnus of the1978 batch of the 174-year-old Madras Christian College School.
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