Among the Not So Great

The Sundial

(This is again an aside story.) Before constructing the sundial, there was the question of design. It was not meant to be a ‘carry-around’ clock. It stood about 2.50m or more high. A cube of 1m (of concrete slabs) set on a square pillar of about 0.60m/side (of brick work) with a pair of circular steps for base. On the top was the gnomon as also on all the four vertical sides (a gnomon is the pointer on a sundial, the length and position of its shadow indicates the time of the day at that place). I made a simple drawing of it, while some one of us approached Sanjibanda for a design. He made a drawing of an elaborate, intricately designed one. Both were shown to the Mother. She chose mine — the simpler one. I, for one, was naturally glad.

Sunil-da took our higher Maths class and may be the higher next to ours. These were some of the last classes he took. It was about the time the great mathematician, Dr. Venkataraman, delivered a few lectures on higher or pure Mathematics (higher than what we were grappling with). (Dr. Venkataraman was a very fine human being, He later settled in the Ashram. He dressed, looked and was a simple south Indian Brahmin, complete with a small knotted tuft of hair hanging on to a shaven head. Ever smiling and absent minded, well-versed in Sanskrit and Tamil he lived his last days here in the Mother’s service. His wife continues to live here as simple and inconspicuous as he. Dr. Venkataraman and Sunil-da were great friends, of a kind, they developed a great kinship). Now Sunil-da wanted us (the class) to attend these lectures. He said it would do our brains some good. He sent me to seek Pavitrada’s permission for our class to attend. Pavitrada said “No, no, it will be too difficult for you.” But Sunil-da was insistent, he said, “No, no, go ask him again, insist.” So back I went, and badgered Pavitrada who finally gave in. We attended. I hope it did some good to some. To me it was soporific.

Sunil-da stopped teaching some time in the late 60s. Perhaps by now music was pouring down in a torrent from above or gushing up from within, deafening or swamping his old ardour for teaching Mathematics, Zoology, etc. When he came to the class he hardly sat on his chair. He paced about with his hands held behind, palm in palm. Then we saw his thumb incessantly moving from one fingertip to the next as if counting or giving rhythm in accompaniment to some music, unheard by us, but churning his mind and heart. I will come back to his music — now back to school.

Once long back, there was a teacher’s meeting, held on the landing of the East block of our School. Not that such meetings were not held at other times than this once. But it was one that Sunil-da happened to attend and I too was there. Many aired many ideas and opinions, some longish rallies of points and counter points enlivened the proceedings. Suddenly after some discussions, Pavitrada looked at Sunil-da and asked, “Et, Sunil, que dites-vous?” (And Sunil what have you to say?) Sunil-da smiled and: “Oh! moi?...moi?” (Oh! Me? Me?)... smiled some more, got up and just walked down the stairs and away! I was quite amused — of the other’s reactions, your guess is as good as mine.

This was the ‘mental’ Sunil-da. There was a metal one, i.e. hard and strong — the football player. (He also played some volley-ball.) He captained the Ashram football team for a few years. His speed and solid build were both used with telling effect, earning him the nickname of “Le Tigre”. His play was more of the dashing, direct kind. No fancy foot-work, but good positioning, a break-through run with the ball and a powerful shot made up his game. He broke his wrist in one of the games towards the end of his playing days. He stopped playing but coached and managed the team for some more time. It was the hey-day of Ashram football. Then there was no “Ashram Team” to be managed, as all matches with other teams was stopped. Sunil-da moved on to other fields.