March-past mayhem

Growing up with an elder sister is a challenging proposition, more so if she studies at Auxilium Convent. Don Bosco High School, Matunga and Auxilium Convent, Wadala were like Siamese twins- the brothers and fathers at our school and the sisters and mothers at Auxilium were all related under the bigger "Salesian" umbrella. But the students shared quite a volatile relationship.

A language barrier of sorts complicated the equation between Bosco and Auxilium. We spoke a smattering of English, barely enough to introduce ourselves and would switch immediately to the vernacular (Bambaiya Hindi). Girls in Auxilium spoke the Queen's English with fluency which left us completely tongue tied in their presence. Little wonder, that they thought Bosco boys as unrefined street kids belonging to the lowest rungs of human society, while we considered them haughty and simply unsociable!
Also, we did not exactly enhance our reputation by hiding behind pillars and making a sudden, ghostly entry and scaring the daylights out of the girls, when the Auxilium denizens visited our school church once a month!
The ill-feeling, to put it mildly, was mutual and was often extended to siblings at home.

Mr Patel, our PT sir, wanted us to perfect the Sports Day drill at home, in front of a mirror. The drill involved the usual ingredients- march on location, the left, right and about-turns and of course the forward march.
That's when I was cornered by my sister. "Are you going to march that way ? You look like a puppet! Why does your forward march look as if your knee is bandaged and you are part of a three-legged race?"
If I let my knee relax a bit, there was an opposite comment- "Only burglars walk that way to avoid being noticed! It looks so ungainly".
"Why are you not swinging your arms? You are so stiff, as if you are trying to punch the boy in front of you!" and very soon, "If you swing your hands so much, the fellow at the back will have his teeth knocked out!"
Worse reactions were reserved for the marching on location drill.
"You're not following the rhythm at all. It's as if you are trampling on cow-dung!" For the life of me, I've never figured this metaphor out- who tramples on cow dung for a living, and worse, who has the inclination to observe his footwork ? The only possible candidate appears to be Mr Boyle, who may want to use it for the sequel to the Slumdog Millionaire! Anyway, not much progress could be made in these impromptu lessons at home. Also, you don't want to let your confidence drop to its lowest ebb and change your basic technique, one day before the big event.

In retrospect, our House (Gandhi) did make some big mistakes at the Annual Sports Day. We started off on the wrong foot (no pun intended) when Valentino and two of his buddies decided to sprint across the Xavier's ground. It had rained the previous night and the ground was moist and slushy.
When the boys emerged from their workout, their dress had a nice design - tiny mud globules starting at the ankles and snaking their way right up to the small of the back! "The march-past parade has no place for mine workers!", Mr Patel yelled! Attempts were made to exchange their trousers with someone else's, but no self respecting student was willing to part with his clean trousers. Eventually, Valentino was made to wear his trousers inside-out with some contraption to hold it in place!
The downside of this incident was that Valentino could not hold the placard and lead the march-past for our House. He had to be hidden in one of the rows where his trousers with its stitching hanging out, would not be noticed by the Chief Guest!

His void had to be filled by an individual who was simply not up to the task. Mr Patel's stentorian call "Class!....left wheel" made him strangely indecisive and in the excitement, he veered to the right!  The rest of the pack had two options- follow their leader into the bushes or chart a new course.
In fact, we were split wide open. One flank went in the direction of Pakistan, another towards Bangladesh and a confused middle flank chose to travel straight to Delhi! By the time we managed to salvage the situation by heckling at each other, we were quite a distance from the script that we were supposed to follow!

I tried to be chummy at home but it was tough to avoid my sister. "How did your march past go?", she promptly asked.
"It went off fine! We stood fourth!", I answered as cheerily as possible.
"And pray tell me how many Houses participated ?" was the next obvious question.
"Well, actually four", I trailed off and ran out!

P.S: There is one detail that I could not fit in, but it needs to be captured somewhere. Auxilium has a peculiar technique when it comes to "marching on location". They extend their knees out a bit and bend their foot inwards at the ankle in a complicated manner, more like a ballerina! I will concede that it looks elegant when they march that way, but I do have a problem when other marching styles are dubbed as "trampling on cow-dung"!
In fact, I would argue that their style is closer to the way Russians march, but the Bosco way is the Indian way, the correct way! Also, we are used to the rhythm spelt out as "ek do ek, ek" as opposed to "left-right-left!"
No wonder Charu and I cannot see eye to eye or rather foot to foot on this topic!  My foot! I've taken a lot of risk in writing this article as it opens a can of worms (or is it... to stir up the hornet's nest) going back a few decades! But what for are these blogs if we cannot vent our pent up feelings!? All flames are hereby cordially invited!!