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SEVENTH HEAVEN

Mumbai Cathedralite Class of 59 Magazine

Archive of Issue 1 to Issue 6

 


Contents

  1. SH-Issue 1:960421
  2. SH-Issue 2:960505
  3. SH-Issue 3:960519
  4. SH-Issue 4:960602
  5. SH-Issue 5:960616
  6. SH-Issue 6:960630



  7. Seventh Heaven Volume 1 Issue 7 to Issue 12
  8. Seventh Heaven Volume 2 Issue 1 to Issue 6
  9. Seventh Heaven Volume 2 Issue 7 to Issue 12
  10. Seventh Heaven Archived Issue 010101
  11. Seventh Heaven Archived Issue 010202
  12. Seventh Heaven Archived Issue 010303
  13. World Alumni Registry of Cathedral School
  14. E-mail Directory of Cathedralites maintained by Vikram Somaya
  15. The Site of a Cathedralite maintained by Vivek Sikri
  16. CATCALL; Cathedral & John Connon Alumni Association, Mumbai, India

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  1. SH-Issue 1:960421

    Hi Web-surfing Cathedralites,

    I am glad that I found the list of all you youngsters being maintained by Vikram Somaya http://pantheon.cis.yale.edu/~somaya/hel.html). I received and read with interest the newsletter being sent out by Vivek Sikri. I hope those of you Cathedralites who have not registered will do so by visiting the site mentioned above.

    What is Seventh Heaven?

    When I was in the Seventh Standard in Cathedral School in 1955, Mr. Thompson was our classmaster. He suggested we start a class magazine. It was great fun as we put together stuff, typed and wrote it onto stencils with some nice drawings for the cover, and sure enough we had a nice magazine which we brought out every couple of weeks. Of course, when we left the Seventh Standard it died a natural death, but the title of the magazine remained in my mind.

    Our class which passed out in 1959 was a great one and I hope over the next few issues to tell you some of our escapades and successes on this page. Many of you may know the sons and relatives of those who were with me during that time.

    I hope you will enjoy this page as much as I shall enjoy putting it together. I hope to share with you some stories about our the Headmaster, Mr Gunnery, Vice Head and character extraordinaire - Mr. Pharoah, and of course details of several of our seniors and juniors, many of whom have done as well as most of us in our class.

    I hope to update this page every two weeks and also to maintain an archive of the stories that I put up. Presently the archive address is the same as this one, and only after I see what sort of response we are getting will I decided on whether to split it or leave it as a big master file..

    I would be grateful if some of you would send stories about your time in Cathedral so that those of us from the distant past can get a flavour of what happened after our time.

    Best regards

    Jacob Matthan
    1959 Batch
    Savage House Captain 1959


    Cathedral and John Connon School
    Fort
    Bombay, INDIA

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  2. SH-Issue 2:960505

    Hi Web-surfing Cathedralites,

    First and foremost let me inform you that the World Alumni Register has been prepared and part of it includes the Alumni Register for Cathedral and John Connen School in the Indian Alumni Register Section. I would suggest that you return the Letters to the Editor Section on our main page "Findians Briefings" and read the letter from Renu Mehta who is maintaining the India Alumni Register. This may, therefore, remove the need for Vivek Sikri to struggle to maintain a duplicate Alumni Register He could come to an agreement with Renu to use that list for all our needs. About 20 Cathedralites had registered as of Friday 3rd May, so the rest of you just rush off and register now.

    Many of you have written to me. I was especially happy to hear from Akiva Elias, son of my very good friend and classmate Elijah Elias, also popularly known as Ooky. How did Elijah get his nickname Ooky?

    The grandfather of Akiva was a senior officer in the State Bank of India and was constantly being shifted from city to city. So when Elijah arrived at Cathedral, I seem to remember it was either late in our Ninth or early Tenth standard. In the Tenth we used to have an English Essay writing competition which was called the Ookerjee Memorial Prize.

    Elijah wrote a hilarious piece. Mr. Salmon, a tall Englishman who was our English teacher did an especially good job of reading out the essay to us after he announced the winner. It had us in splits of laughter for many a week. Elijah had all the wit of Wodehouse. Without any doubt he was the clean winner of the prize and earned himself the nickname Ooky - which has stuck through all these years. It also made Ooky one of us although he joined our class at such a late stage of our school lives. Plus the fact that Ooky was a good seam bowler, dedicated to the game of cricket, made him a popular addition to our class.

    If I am not wrong, even his wife calls him Ooky when she is in the company of his classmates!

    Speaking of nicknames, in this issue I want to give you the origin of mine.

    We were in the Seventh Standard when our class teacher, Mr. Thompson suggested we go for a Saturday picnic to a small stream about an hour and a half from Bombay (Mumbai) by suburban train at a place called Vasind. The idea appealed to many of us. It was duly arranged, the two teachers in charge of the party being PT Master Mr. Morecroft and Mr. Thompson.

    I was up early and had a good breakfast. I was about to drink the glass of milk which my mother had heated for me when the glass slipped from our hands and crashed to the floor. My mother was distressed, being slightly supersititious. She told me to be especially careful on this trip.

    I arrived at the railway station to find all the others already there. We got on the train and had a very lively interesting journey, with Vikram Singh, one of our classmates, joining us at some station along the line.

    We reached Vasind by about 8 in the morning. A trek through some fields brought us to a lovely stream with a sandy bank. As I had insisted on wearing my swimming trunks already from home, I was probably the first into the water and was splashing away having a wonderful time before any of the others even made it into the water. The river was quite shallow, about waist height, even for us small kids. I was used to river swimming as I used to swim in the backwaters of Kerala when I was just a few years old.

    I had not been in the water more than a few tens of minutes when suddenly my feet gave way under me. I do not know what happened, but I think it was cramp which made me curl up as I lost all control of my body. I was drowning. I went down for the first time. When I came up I was trying to shout for help, but only taking in more water. I saw Vikram swim near me. I made a grab for him. He thought I was fooling around and let out a viscious kick. I went down for the second time. At that point I knew then I was a goner. As I came up for the third time, my thoughts were not on survival, although the body was struggling to stay alive, my mind was already tuned to death and my life of the previous 12 years rolled by me in an instant in slow motion. I saw all the highlights of my life and in my mind I thanked my parents for all that they had done for me. I went down for the last time looking at the shore which seemed miles away, and I knew my life was over as I blacked out. I was not in pain or mentally distressed at that point of time.

    I awoke some time later. Sand was sticking all over me. Someone was pounding my chest. Water was gushing out of the side of my mouth.
    It appeared that Mr. Morecroft had seen me going down for the second time. He had been able to get me out just after my third submersion. Artificial respiration of about 20 minutes had got me going again. When I looked up I could see the worried faces of all my friends looking down at me, but beyond them I saw the bright blue sky. As they saw my open eyes a sigh of relief passed through all of them.

    It was a painful time while they pumped out all the water from inside me. But both Mr. Thompson and Mr. Morecroft were well versed in life-saving techniques, and I think both of them thanked the day when they had taken the trouble to learn these life-saving techniques. In about half -an-hour, they had me going and they asked whether I wanted to be rushed to the hospital.
    Seeing all my friends were still standing around looking worried, I knew I would ruin their day if I opted for this. Despite my insides being raw, I declined. I asked them to prop me up in the shade of some trees while they went about swimming and enjoying themselves.

    I can remember that day as clear as crystal, as although I was not running around and jumping and playing with them, I was thanking God for saving me from the jaws of death.

    Seeing how I had been dragged out of the water, held upside down by my legs before they started artificial respiration and my very drawn and pale face as I lay there while having our midday sandwiches, I was not able to eat as my throat was raw, Viney Sethi (Palmer House Captain 1959) commented that Jakes looked like a "Dead Chicken" - and that nickname remained mine for many a year!
    I was a resurrected Dead Chicken - and that was fine. I rememeber my friends and especially these two fine schoolmasters, Mr. Thompson and Mr. Morecroft all the time as I have got this far in life only because they were prepared in an emergency.

    More true life stories from Cathedral School in a fortnight, so till then

    Yours sincerely,
    Jacob Matthan
    Oulu, Finland

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  3. SH-Issue 3:960519

    Hi Web-surfing Cathedralites,

    What was the most embarrassing moment of your life? This week I share mine with you. For that I must go back to school in 1955 or 1956 - I am not sure exactly which year. However, it was the year when the school play was an Opera entitled "Aladdin and his Magic Lamp".

    I was a member of the Cathedral church choir. As Charles Velu, who now lives in Birmnigham, England, the organist of the church choir and choir master was in charge of putting the opera together, there was no way I could escape my role as a washerwoman in the laundry maintained by the mother of Aladdin.

    The opera was excellent. It was directed by Mr. Oliver who was also responsible for all the stage sets and organisation.

    One of the dramatic moments was when Aladdin rubbed the magic lamp and the genie appeared. Aladdin requested the genie to transport him somewhere (I think to the palace of the king). As the genie was granting the wish, the stage lights were switched off for less than a minute. When they switched back on, the entire cast of about 20 of us were taken off the set and the whole complex scenery was changed from a laundry to a blank stage. A masterpiece of stage direction which took place in just 30 seconds.

    In all the rehersals everything went like a dream. We were all herded off the stage in those seconds in a very orderly fashion.

    The day of the final performance arrived. My parents were seated in the front row watching their son in his multiple roles as waherwomen, etc. etc. At the crucial point, after a very beautiful solo by Michael Colaco, who played the lead with his great soprano voice, the genie appeared and Aladdin made his wish. The lights were then switched off.

    In all the rehearsals there had been a certain amount of daylight which had helped us get off the stage by watching this through the wings. On this evening, being dark outside there was no such guide. When the lights were switched on after those crucial few seconds, yours truly was still in the corner of the stage at the footlights, totally blinnded by their sudden brightness. As I was rubbing my eyes as the gust of light hit my face, in a flash I was rudely dragged of the stage by some desperate unseen hand. My chance for a soliliquy had been dashed just when I was in the spotlight!

    I do not know whether anyone in the audience noticed I had been left behind. No-one dared mention it, probably out of kindness, but I was a quivering wreck, knowing that all the washerwomen and Aladdin and his mother had been transported off to wonderland, but I had been left behind!

    I have never wanted to act in a play again after that mortifying experience. Last week, those who took the trouble to read my other alma mater page Kooler Talk (Web Version) would have noted how small this world is. This week I can show you how the world is very small for us Cathedralites as well.

    I use Alta Vista to search the web. I decided to run through a couple of names of my Cathedralite classmates. The first one I chose was a good friend that I had lost complete touch with after I left school. His name is Parasuraman, and I seemed to vaguely remember his pet name was Bala.

    The search yielded about two dozen references, most of them relating to a Prof. A. Parasuraman, a marketing wizard of some sort in an American University. I knew he was certainly not my classmate. Sure enough, amongst the list there was a Bala Parasuraman somewhere in the US. So I sent an email message asking this gentleman whether he was from Cathedral school. Bingo - I hit jackpot as Bala replied recalling many of our classmates and asking after them. I was able to fill him with news of several with whom I have kept in touch.

    If any of you want to use an economic fax or gift service between India and the US, or for that matter between any two countries, do contact Bala and I am sure he will give you the very best service. I recall him being such a nice guy in school with a very sharp wit.

    A few days later I got a message from the email address of Ari Singh Anand, a Cathedralite of the eighties, with a cryptic talk of what the hell was this dinosaur doing on the list being maintained Vivek Sikri. The email was signed by none other than the father of Ari, Bhupinder Singh Anand. Bhupi, also Savage House, had been School Captain the year I was Savage House Captain. He was two years my senior and in the X11th at that time.

    Ari has not been well. Bhupi is in US to look after him and using his email address to keep contact with his business in India. I hope all of you will pray for a speedy recovery for Ari. Anyone in the vicinity could offer to lend Bhupi a hand, if he needs it. I know how difficult it is for a father to manage a sick son, especially away from home.

    Ari is the clasmate of Akiva Elias, son of Ooky Elijah Elias, one of my dearest friends in Bombay. Akiva had sent me a message a few weeks ago asking whether I knew his dad. Ooky is the only classmate who has come and stayed with us in this remote corner of the world, where, believe it or not, it snowed last week. I think we saw spring and summer come and go last weekend!

    It is a very small world - and the internet has made it even smaller. God bless the internet. Do not forget, if you have something to share with other Cathedralites of any generation, mail it to me, and I shall put it up on this page as a record for posterity. Take care. See you in a fortnight.

    Regards

    Jacob Matthan
    Oulu, Finland

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  4. SH-Issue 4:960602

    Hi Web-surfing Cathedralites,


    Thank you all for taking the mickey out of me. I am six feet and two inches tall, weigh a hundred kilos and have very broad shoulders - and can take quite a lot of flak. Yes (true confessions), I had to dress up as a washerwoman and also as one of the ladies-in-waiting of the princess, and sing in my soprano voice. (We were not co-educational in those days!) That, however, was not the embarrasing part of the story as many of you seemed to infer!

    Well the laugh is on you. Because I was in the Cathedral Church Choir, which meant twice a week singing practice - late on Wednesday and Friday evenings and two church services to attend on Sunday - morning and evening, and a whole lot of christenings (baptisms), weddings and funerals to sing at), I did not have to pay the school fees. I think it was the grand sum of Rs.15 per month.

    Some of the people even paid us money to sing at those events - usually half an rupee - great amount of money in those days. It was enough to have a hearty meal of chicken curry and rice at the Pyrkes Restaurant at Flora Fountain, at Olympic Restaurant in Colaba Causeway or a scruptious meal at the railway restaurant in Bombay Central, though not enough to have a chicken burger in a small restaurant almost at the end of Veer Nariman Road where it meets Marine Drive (think it was called Skyways) which used to be our regular hangout - that used it cost 12 annas. The was usually some pies left over for the Charminars - I picked up all my bad habits while singing in the church choir, or maybe it was an attempt to destroy my voice to get out of the drudgery.

    As far as I can remember there were no school fees even for my elder brother and my younger sister, a family savng of about Rs. 50 at least - so I always tell them that I got them educated through our alma mater by my endeavours! I wonder whether this traditional link between the church and the school continues even now?

    I must tell you about our French teacher, Mr. Ribi. He was a true-life frenchman who had an MG sports car. He lived on the top floor above the flat of the Principal. I think you got to it by going up the stairs at the back of the then Standard X on the second floor (where they used to do the annual medical examination where we all had to strip and be examined by a lady doctor who always insisted that we all had to be circumsised!)

    Mr. Ribi was a real monster. If we did not pronounce a French word correctly he would blow his head off in a rage and if at the second attempt we failed to satisfy his morbidity, he would screw our ears. Painful experience which in todayÍs world would probably be called child molestation. Now you can understand all my psychological traumas which come through this page! Luckily he left after a couple of years so I did not have to suffer him till the XIth.

    Wonder often where he got too? Any clues anyone?

    Well we did have several foreign teachers in our day and I will tell you about some of them in the coming issues and also some of the real local character teachers which we had.

    By the way, I know you are all enjoying these reminescences but I think some of you should start to take control and manage this page. I am a little old and weary and would like to give the reins to a younger and more dynamic editor so that Ican concentrate on the main page - Findians Briefings -which is shocking and rocking the world with its hard hitting style. So if someone would like to slowly take over Seventh Heaven, you are welcome, and you will always have one devoted reader - me!! May I, however, echo Kashinath Dandekar, my senior by 2 years who wrote in the latest issue of the Cathedral Newslatter:

    "Let us keep the language parliamentary, it may be a little sterile but it might be more acceptable. Perhaps I am beginning to feel OLD."

    Well, next week I am going to tell you about the "Pharoah" of Cathedral School and I am sure Kashinath and Bhupi, and Bala, will not feel quite sooooo old!

    Regards

    Jacob Matthan
    Oulu, Finland

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  5. SH-Issue 5:960613

    Hi Cathedralites,

    As promised I aim tell you what I know about the Pharoah of Cathedral.

    Stan Pharoah was Vice Principal during the time I was in school. He was a great man in more than one sense. Stan (he would say "Mr. Pharoah to you, young man!") was my class teacher in the 10th Standard. He taught Mathematics. His teaching skill was excellent. He made Mathematics interesting. He had a beautiful writing hand on the blackboard.

    The feature about Stan was that he told us kids that if he had not been lifted you up by the seat of their pants and walloped you across the bottom -you could not claim to be Cathedralite! He told us of how even Zulfiqar Bhutto, who was then Prime Minister of Pakistan, had been so complimented by the Sphinx. As an aside he did mention that Bhutto was not very good at mathematics.

    Stan had a heart of gold. He, his wife (her name skips me just now) and two children, Margret and Claire lived in the GirlÍs School. All were devout Christians. I used to encounter them in the Cathedral every Sunday morning.

    Stan knew and loved every student. He was always prepared to help anyone that came to him. He made Ashok Kapur (now Chief Executive of the Dutch ABN Bank in Bombay) and me Prefects already in the last term of the 10th Standard. A great honour for us.
    Stan retired from the school sometime in the early sixties and migrated to England as his daughters wanted him to settle there for their future. I visited him in his nice suburban home in Surbiton in Surrey in the mid-sixties. Although he was relaxed and happy and enjoyed his English country garden, he seemed to miss our Cathedral School every single minute.
    Both his daughters finished their studies and were married in England. As I moved away from London, I lost touch with Stan.

    Maybe I was too good - I was not lifted by the seat of my pants by Stan, so I have little claim to be a Cathedralite - it would have been an honour to have been reprimanded by him!

    Regards

    Jacob Matthan

    PS: Maybe one of you out there can fill us in with more details you may have about this wonderful character which made Cathedral the institution it has become.

    PPS: I am still waiting for authentic data about Connon, Savage, Palmer, Wilson, Barham - I have received considerable comments, but almost all are speculations. I am also looking for data about Gunnery, Kuruvilla Jacob, and earlier and subsequent Principals from any of you out there.

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  6. SH-Issue 6:960613

    Hi Cathedralites

    (sorry to Kooler Talk (Web Version) readers also visiting here for some duplication),

    Ad at the top

    You may have noticed an ad at the top if you are using Netscape. It is part of a contract with a Portugese group that all my web pages will carry a rotating ad at the top. If it offends anyone or affects your access time or download time, please do let me know. I shall reconsider whether I keep it at the top of the Seventh Heaven page. (Ed: I have to try to earn some money sometime - I am not very successful at that task!)

    Annoyance

    Last issue I asked whether my annoying reminders should stop - I have a posting of just over a hundred messages to Cathedralites. I received a total of 0 replies. Well this split the response 0/0/0 (undecided), so I am continuing my reminders. Any of you that wants out should let me know.

    GOPIO

    May I please direct you to the Global Organisation of People of Indian Origin (GOPIO). You can read the letter from Prof. Thomas Abraham from Columbia University in the Letters to the Editor on my main web page. Do take a break and visit it and the appropriate link.

    Glynn Howell

    Well a few words about Glynn Howell. I came upon this absolutely delightful gentleman when I was in the VIII Standard and decided to take up Latin as one of my alternate languages. Anything to get away from the throttling hold of Marathi and Hindi. Glynn was a great teacher. He started off the first lessons from a book called "Ora Maritama" or "The Sea Shore". That is probably the present limit of my knowledge of Latin, as although I was interested, with so many things to do in school, I had little time to mug up a dead language. (Anyone interested in sending me the words of the School song?)

    When I entered the IXth, Glynn was our Classmaster. His special subject was Geography. He was meticulous in his presentation of the subject, immaculately written on the blackboard. He fostered my interest in the subject so that I went on to get a distinction in it at the Senior Cambridge examination.

    Glynn was always dressed to perfection with a creaseless suit, starched white shirt with appropriate armbands to hold up his sleeves so that the chalk dust would not make them dirty, perfectly pressed trousers and tie and a neatly folded handkerchief in his top pocket. His attendance register was a work of art. He never permitted anyone to take attendance in his absence as he did not like his register messed up.

    He was quite unlike Stan Pharoah who was always dressed in a sloppy grey cotton coat and equally baggy white trousers. Also, unlike Stan, Glynn was an intensely personal individual. I never ever had the opportunity to meet or know his family.

    Secularity

    The IXth was a year in which we really had a lot of fun before we got the serious task of getting ready for the Senior Cambridge. We were a truly international and secular class. We had an American (Bobby Anderson), a Baharaini (Wabhir Zayani), Britishers (John Beddoes and Jimmy Jameson) and a Yugoslavian (Peter Miovitch). We had Hindus (Bhakley, Chadha, Dhabolkar, Ghatge, Kapur, Kurma, Nayar, Ruias (Anil and Ashok), Sethi), Parsees (Choksi, Cooper, Kanga, Mistry, Modi, Moos, Singara, Shroff), Christians (Colaco, Matthan, Rodrigues, Singh), Muslims (Ahmedbhoy, Chinwalla, Currimjee, Hoosein), Sindhis (Lakhani, Thadhani), and also three Indian Jews (Solomon, Hayem and Haskell - it was the year before Elias (alias Ooky) joined the school) and others - must ask Jangoo to rattle off the attendance register.

    We all lived in total harmony. (Forgive me if I forgot anyone - 40 years is a long time to remember all your classmates names. Some like Bala Parasuraman and Narayan Sesachar got added between the IXth and the XIth while a couple from this list moved to the B Section or left. The A Section was the Science stream and the B section the Arts stream.)

    Many a time I have been asked whether being a Christian in India had been a handicap. In truth, we were so secular in our approach that I never once thought about the religious background of any of my classmates, especially as a comparative factor. The only time I realised there was a difference was when we stripped our shirts for PT class and the Parsees would have their special type of cotton vests which no one else had.

    I do not know whether this secularistic attitude is the case in most schools, but my secular and international attitude for life was definetly sown during the time I was in Cathedral.

    More in a fortnight

    Jacob Matthan

    Oulu, Finland

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    For further information please contact:
    Jacob Matthan
    Kampitie 6 B
    FIN-90150 Oulu
    Finland
    Tel. :+358-8-33 69 39
    Send me your comments by email
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