Very quick water-color work of the Melkote Narasimha Temple. Tried to capture the ominous sky....and the temple façade.
Sunday 16 November 2014
Melkote Narasimha Temple...Painting in watercolor
Very quick water-color work of the Melkote Narasimha Temple. Tried to capture the ominous sky....and the temple façade.
Sunday 9 November 2014
The compass box
We called it a "compass box". No- it did not carry a compass to show the cardinal directions. It was essentially a "geometry box" with a set of set-squares, a protractor, a divider, a ruler, an eraser and of course a compass. The only notable item was the compass, which made it a compass box.
The compass box was every school boy's prized possession. It was a sign of growing up, when you moved from the traditional "pencil box" to a box with a set of sophisticated tools. It was a sort of coming of age symbol, when you left the confines of Arithmetic to enter the new and hallowed portals of Geometry. Of course, everything was just as undecipherable, but that realization was much later!
The compass box came in two flavors- "Camlin" for the cattle class and "Omega" which students from the business class usually carried. For all its worth, no one knew why so many items crowded the compass box. Many seemed purely ornamental.
The set-squares could rarely be fitted back in place once you removed them. Regardless of how you positioned them, some part always protruded out of the box. A fifth grader's patience is limited. After a few tries, he gave up and simply slammed the lid.... Yes, the tips of the set-squares chipped off and stayed that way! No one seemed to mind the deformity. Like the appendix, the set-square seemed the most redundant body-part destined for appendectomy! We occasionally heard from David Pezarkar (who's body was all brain, we thought) that parallel lines could be drawn with them, but we wondered why a ruler wouldn't be adequate.
Such doubts were relegated to the background and rarely surfaced thereafter.
If at all the set-square was used, it was to enact scenes from the latest Bollywood blockbuster. Two fingers into the cavity of the set-square...and you had your private pistol. And with one pistol on either hand...the sense of empowerment was supreme! Set-squares were your favorite tool, even if the tips were blunt! You jumped from desk to desk...as if jumping over bogies of a running train...and covered the entire length and breadth of the class...with your set-squares all drawn out...shooting smugglers and dacoits and other dregs of human society. Just before Pandey Sir came for the next class, you took care to wipe off the trail of footprints on the desks...yes, with your bare hands...and a dash of saliva...so that the desks looked bright and clean once again!
For variety, the set-squares doubled up as a saw. If you didn't get along with the buddy who shared the same desk as you, at the opportune moment, you tried your best to saw his fingers off with the set-square!!
The divider was the most lethal equipment in the box. The school could very well have banned the divider. It served no academic purpose whatsoever. It was much later in life that Google told us that it is used for "transferring measurements". Till then, the divider served exactly two purposes- etching your name on the desk for posterity and as a weapon which you brandished when the gang wars in class got ugly!
And yes, during the short recess, the less squeamish took turns to hurl the divider from the teacher's platform to a particular desk which served as the target. If the divider hit the target and stayed sunk into the desk without ricocheting, you won a round of applause!
The compass box doubled up as your compact dust-bin. You sharpened your pencils and let the shavings and the fine lead particles litter the insides of the box. It was convenient. It's only when you pulled out the protractor and placed it on the white answer paper, that you realized your semester-long folly. The paper lay smeared with an ugly lead stain transferred from the face of the protractor. The frantic working of the eraser made matters worse, for the eraser was equally smudged with the same lead filings!
The solution was of course simple- a vigorous rub on the navy blue trousers should clean up the protractor. It did- the protractor was now squeaking clean- the lead powder was cleaned up and so were all the markings on the protractor!! The next 45 degree angle was marked with a generous dose of imagination!
The compass was the most complicated of the lot. A brand new box brought its own challenges. The compass leg just wouldn't budge. If at all it did, it was with a sudden convulsive spurt so that you overshot your reading. Otherwise, it fell well short of it...and the very next twitch took it beyond.. once again! It was exasperating. If you got the legs spread apart to the correct measurement, the legs didn't match up in length. The pencil was either too short or long or broken. The long and short of it is that...it just wouldn't swivel around. It was like trying to pirouette on the ballet stage on a broken foot!
"A hand-me down compass box" from an older sibling put you on a different sticky wicket. The compass legs seem to have an animated life of their own...and suddenly walked way when you were three-quarters into your circle! It didn't look like a circle anymore! "Gadha! If you draw circles like that, you will get a big anda ("egg") on your paper!" Ms Clare hollered.
Many a mighty had egg on their faces getting the compass to work. It was frustrating...and seemed an endless exercise in futility. Reduced to tears in the examination hall, Mehernosh grabbed the unyielding compass maniacally and with the ferocity of an assassin armed with a dagger, he punched holes one after the other...in successive thrusts... into the answer sheet. Clearly, he had lost the plot. We didn't know what he would do next.
Harpreet Singh sat on the adjoining desk...his hair tied in a braid, with a little bob at the top. He quietly removed the shining "kadaa" (bangle) from his wrist...and with a little nudge, slipped it into Mehernosh's palm. Mehernosh drew the best circles from then on....with effortless ease. He "estimated" the position of the center and used the compass to punch a little hole so that Ms Clare wouldn't get suspicious.
If circles of different dimensions were needed, he only had to whistle softly to Amarpal who wore a bigger kadaa!
On those dull and dreary days, when time hung still and the monotony of the History class...brought students to the brink of extinction... due to sheer boredom, the compass box was your best friend.
You simply tipped it off from the edge of the desk. It crashed to the floor with the most deafening noise... the metal case flying to one side...and the contents...scattering across the terrain of the class!
It was such a relief! The students now breathed more easily.... suddenly freed from the fetters of the suffocating environs.
And yes, you took your own sweet time..to get below the desks...and pick up one item at a time...a set-square here....and a compass there!
The compass box was every school boy's prized possession. It was a sign of growing up, when you moved from the traditional "pencil box" to a box with a set of sophisticated tools. It was a sort of coming of age symbol, when you left the confines of Arithmetic to enter the new and hallowed portals of Geometry. Of course, everything was just as undecipherable, but that realization was much later!
The compass box came in two flavors- "Camlin" for the cattle class and "Omega" which students from the business class usually carried. For all its worth, no one knew why so many items crowded the compass box. Many seemed purely ornamental.
The set-squares could rarely be fitted back in place once you removed them. Regardless of how you positioned them, some part always protruded out of the box. A fifth grader's patience is limited. After a few tries, he gave up and simply slammed the lid.... Yes, the tips of the set-squares chipped off and stayed that way! No one seemed to mind the deformity. Like the appendix, the set-square seemed the most redundant body-part destined for appendectomy! We occasionally heard from David Pezarkar (who's body was all brain, we thought) that parallel lines could be drawn with them, but we wondered why a ruler wouldn't be adequate.
Such doubts were relegated to the background and rarely surfaced thereafter.
If at all the set-square was used, it was to enact scenes from the latest Bollywood blockbuster. Two fingers into the cavity of the set-square...and you had your private pistol. And with one pistol on either hand...the sense of empowerment was supreme! Set-squares were your favorite tool, even if the tips were blunt! You jumped from desk to desk...as if jumping over bogies of a running train...and covered the entire length and breadth of the class...with your set-squares all drawn out...shooting smugglers and dacoits and other dregs of human society. Just before Pandey Sir came for the next class, you took care to wipe off the trail of footprints on the desks...yes, with your bare hands...and a dash of saliva...so that the desks looked bright and clean once again!
For variety, the set-squares doubled up as a saw. If you didn't get along with the buddy who shared the same desk as you, at the opportune moment, you tried your best to saw his fingers off with the set-square!!
The divider was the most lethal equipment in the box. The school could very well have banned the divider. It served no academic purpose whatsoever. It was much later in life that Google told us that it is used for "transferring measurements". Till then, the divider served exactly two purposes- etching your name on the desk for posterity and as a weapon which you brandished when the gang wars in class got ugly!
And yes, during the short recess, the less squeamish took turns to hurl the divider from the teacher's platform to a particular desk which served as the target. If the divider hit the target and stayed sunk into the desk without ricocheting, you won a round of applause!
The compass box doubled up as your compact dust-bin. You sharpened your pencils and let the shavings and the fine lead particles litter the insides of the box. It was convenient. It's only when you pulled out the protractor and placed it on the white answer paper, that you realized your semester-long folly. The paper lay smeared with an ugly lead stain transferred from the face of the protractor. The frantic working of the eraser made matters worse, for the eraser was equally smudged with the same lead filings!
The solution was of course simple- a vigorous rub on the navy blue trousers should clean up the protractor. It did- the protractor was now squeaking clean- the lead powder was cleaned up and so were all the markings on the protractor!! The next 45 degree angle was marked with a generous dose of imagination!
The compass was the most complicated of the lot. A brand new box brought its own challenges. The compass leg just wouldn't budge. If at all it did, it was with a sudden convulsive spurt so that you overshot your reading. Otherwise, it fell well short of it...and the very next twitch took it beyond.. once again! It was exasperating. If you got the legs spread apart to the correct measurement, the legs didn't match up in length. The pencil was either too short or long or broken. The long and short of it is that...it just wouldn't swivel around. It was like trying to pirouette on the ballet stage on a broken foot!
"A hand-me down compass box" from an older sibling put you on a different sticky wicket. The compass legs seem to have an animated life of their own...and suddenly walked way when you were three-quarters into your circle! It didn't look like a circle anymore! "Gadha! If you draw circles like that, you will get a big anda ("egg") on your paper!" Ms Clare hollered.
Many a mighty had egg on their faces getting the compass to work. It was frustrating...and seemed an endless exercise in futility. Reduced to tears in the examination hall, Mehernosh grabbed the unyielding compass maniacally and with the ferocity of an assassin armed with a dagger, he punched holes one after the other...in successive thrusts... into the answer sheet. Clearly, he had lost the plot. We didn't know what he would do next.
Harpreet Singh sat on the adjoining desk...his hair tied in a braid, with a little bob at the top. He quietly removed the shining "kadaa" (bangle) from his wrist...and with a little nudge, slipped it into Mehernosh's palm. Mehernosh drew the best circles from then on....with effortless ease. He "estimated" the position of the center and used the compass to punch a little hole so that Ms Clare wouldn't get suspicious.
If circles of different dimensions were needed, he only had to whistle softly to Amarpal who wore a bigger kadaa!
On those dull and dreary days, when time hung still and the monotony of the History class...brought students to the brink of extinction... due to sheer boredom, the compass box was your best friend.
You simply tipped it off from the edge of the desk. It crashed to the floor with the most deafening noise... the metal case flying to one side...and the contents...scattering across the terrain of the class!
It was such a relief! The students now breathed more easily.... suddenly freed from the fetters of the suffocating environs.
And yes, you took your own sweet time..to get below the desks...and pick up one item at a time...a set-square here....and a compass there!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)