Alumni gather at St. Joseph School to commemorate 225 years of its existence. (Express Photo)
For 68-year-old Raveendranath, who has lived most of his life in Bengaluru, a trip to Kozhikode this weekend was necessary. After all, five-and-a-half decades later, he was coming back to his high school.
On Saturday, under a giant banyan tree near the basketball court of the St Joseph’s Boys Higher Secondary School, Raveendranath was deep in conversation with his good friend Balabhaskar, with whom he shared a school bench in the 60s. Their heads may be full of white hair, but the memories of their teachers and their school were as sharp as a knife. “Imagine, I am meeting him for the first time after 1964. We were never able to keep in touch back then. In those days, it would take weeks to even get a telephone connection,” says Balabhaskar, who retired from the Reserve Bank a few years ago.
Balabhaskar, Raveendranath and hundreds of men in their 30s, 40s, 50, 60s and 70s who trooped into the school on Saturday have one thing in common: they are all part of a vibrant alumni network of the oldest school in Kerala and believed to be the third oldest in the country. This year, St Joseph is commemorating 225 years of its existence — a feat that deserved a global alumni meeting.
“We feel so light…as if we are floating,” says Balabhaskar laughing.
Beginning under the British
In 1792, the British acquired territories under the Malabar region including Kozhikode, then a bustling port town, from Tipu Sultan’s forces after the culmination of the Third Anglo-Mysore war. A year later, in 1793, St Joseph’s European School took birth, primarily for teaching the children of employees of the East India Company. It was one of the few English-medium schools in the region at the time. Owing to lack of written records, very limited information about the school is available of the early years. Run by the Carmelites from 1861 to 1878, the school finally passed over to the Society of Jesus in 1878 who have been running the school since then.
Run by the Carmelites from 1861 to 1878, the school finally passed over to the Society of Jesus in 1878. (Express Photo)
Gradually over the years, the school expanded in size, with classes up to 10th grade initiated in 1904. In 1914, as the First World War raged in Europe, St Joseph’s got a two-storied building for boarding students. It was post-Independence, that the school got its first Malayali Jesuit priest as its headmaster. However, many collectively agree, that the school reached its illustrious best under Fr. Thomas Anthraper who sat on the headmaster’s chair between 1974 and 1986. During the days of the Emergency, when Malabar’s Communists would seethe with rage against the draconian actions of the Indira Gandhi government, trouble would often, even seep into the walls of the school.
“Annathe samayam kashtam aayirunnu (Those were really trying times),” Fr. Anthraper, now 88, told the Indian Express, sitting in a chair in the headmaster’s office he once occupied. “There was a lot of politics. Young people were not disciplined back then. We had to handle them with care,” he says, reminiscing those years. “I would call the boys by name and when we call by name, a relationship develops.” He says he always had a ‘chooral’ (cane stick) hidden under the sleeve of his cassock, never to actually use, but enough to scare the boys. “Those who actually got beaten love me more now,” he jokes.
Conversations over parippu vada
On Saturday, men in twos, threes and larger groups, exchanged stories about their school days over cups of hot tea and ‘parippu vada’ (lentil fritters). They would point to their classrooms in which they once sat and joke about the times they did mischievous stuff to annoy their teachers. They may be friends in reality, but they become ‘friends’ on Facebook again.
Ex-students of the 1964 batch, Balabhaskar(L), DV Narayanan (M) and Raveendranath (R). (Express Photo)
One of the oldest members of the alumni is Abid D Kapasi, a Gujarati Muslim, who was born and brought up in Kozhikode. He passed out of the school’s 10th grade in the year 1955. On Saturday, he was at the school, trying to find his batchmates. “You know, I looked up the alumni website and I couldn’t find my batchmates,” he said. “My brothers and my sons have all studied at this school.”
Kapasi, who ran a timber business in the city and has now retired, says those were the days when students were afraid of teachers. “It’s the reverse now,” he said with a smile. Kapasi and hundreds of others were able to converge on the school, largely due to the efforts of the alumni committee which went back in time, leafing through the school records to get contact details of the students. WhatsApp groups were generated for each batch and a website, developed by Anoop G, a student of the 1996 batch, was used to track each batch. On the site, students of each batch can upload their photos and their details such as contact numbers and URLs to Facebook profiles.
The old church in the school compound. (Express Photo)
“We started working about a year ago and committees were formed for each task. The two-day programme this weekend will see some ex-students of the school who have achieved great heights globally being honoured. We will also be honouring some ex-headmasters and teachers,” said Prof Nandagopal EK, a student of the 1971 batch and a key organiser of the alumni meeting. Padmashri Azad Moopen, a leading physician and philanthropist, said at the function, “This institution was the foundation of all that I have achieved in life.”
‘Teachers like them are not made anymore’
Both Raveendranath and Balabhaskar agree that the school was always strict under the administration of Jesuit priests. But they say they continue to have respect for their teachers because they were ‘inherently good.’ Manjilas J, a headmaster at the time who taught moral science classes, in particular, was a ‘gem of a person’, they say. “You don’t make teachers like them anymore,” one of them says.
Headmaster Thomas Mathew with an alumni of the school from the 1955 batch. (Express Photo)
Just then, the conversation breaks when the duo spot their friend, D V Narayanan. Smiling, he shakes each others’ hands and settles down to describe how his fondest memory of the school is linked to its kind teachers. “I joined here in the 6th grade from another school in Shoranur. My father was critically ill at that time and was admitted to a hospital. The headmaster here happened to be my father’s batchmate. He was pained to know about my father’s condition. At the school assembly that morning, he announced that everyone should pray for a minute for my father’s quick recovery. I stood that morning crying as children around me prayed for my father. I can never forget that day,” says Narayanan, now an advocate.
“You see, My father, then in his 40s, recovered and lived on until the age of 88. He passed away recently,” said Narayan. “We may have good memories, but his are the best,” said Balabhaskar, smiling.