Back to the Egg

The records state very clearly that Vestry School was founded in the year 1763. It was established by a European clergyman named Christian Frederick Schwartz. His base was Tranquebar (now Tharagambadi) in the State of Tamil Nadu, but he was roped in by John Company to cater to the needs of the British troops stationed in Trichy. This included overseeing the educational needs of children born to foreign fathers and Indian mothers, orphaned by circumstance or even irresponsibly abandoned. These children must have made up a sizable clutch—enough to set the alarm bells off in the corridors of power; to cover up this fairly widespread miscegenation, the East India Company actually paid bonuses to the couples who held on to their offspring. I am sure children are not responsible for the mistakes of their existence, but these are the truthfully hoary and scandalous facts. Vestry was originally a School and Orphanage, just like another School in Chennai, but the sensibility and naivete of present-day society prefers to sweep such things into the general dust and heat that pervades everything. As the oft-quoted mantra goes: It happens only in India.

Vestry today is blessed with prime property that was handed over to the school in the 19th century. In 1988, to celebrate the 250th Anniversary of the school’s existence, a huge pandal was put up on the extensive playgrounds overlooking what was called Royal Road. That year I planted a neem tree next to the main gate of the school, but my tree is now either dead or orphaned and the main gate now has another function. After that glorious year, the pandal took root—miraculously—and what we now have is a permanent exhibition centre. I hope you get the meaning of the title given to this piece of writing now, because, come what may, we are destined to return to our roots.

St Johns Church (now Cathedral) and St Johns Vestry Anglo-Indian High School and Orphanage are intertwined inseparably, but up to the mid-1970s, they were two separate entities. Then, when the school was enveloped in scandal, the Church asserted its authority and “missioned” it thereafter. What this meant, in actual terms, was that qualified Anglo-Indians were no longer considered for the post of Headmaster. It may well be that there were no suitable candidates to be found, but the truth was that the last nail was then hammered into the coffin of Anglo-Indian education. The school suffered the most, because swathes of prime property were acquired to build a hostel for college students, and the huge playground was overrun by commercial greed. I grieved, because what was once a proud institution was being dragged through the dust. What remained was neatly partitioned, to entertain a CBSE establishment, perhaps to bolster the finances of the beleaguered Anglo-Indian school, but such trivial things cannot be allowed to come in the way of the march towards progress.

When the word “Vestry” is spoken, it used to conjure up a host of memories very dear to all the Anglo-Indian students who passed through its portals. I am sure that all the students of those wonderful years have vivid memories of their school days too, but it isn’t quite the same. There were so many facets that were uniquely Anglo-Indian that they have to be recounted to know what they were.

In such a scenario, romance was always in the air and the number of childhood sweethearts who went on to tie the knot is staggering. It was never a pandemic, because young people always find many things to occupy themselves. For the boys there were umpteen games to dominate and even get compensated: marble games like Baindha and Dom for Dom, paper Birds and Rockets, the very enjoyable Gilly-Dandoo, Tops and trading Matchbox labels. I don’t know too much about the girls, but I too had my share of cryptograms: FLASK for Fond Love And Sweet Kisses, SWALK for Sealed With A Loving Kiss and so many more that have been erased from memory.

As I said earlier, I spent the first 22 years of my life on campus. I used to know every square foot of these hallowed grounds, and have seen the passing of many buildings: the Chapel and the adjoining staff quarters, the rooms kept for the sick, the old pavilion in the middle of the playground, and the tree-lined road from the dirty pond to the main gate. The pond remains, as does the abandoned Penny Hall, both reminders of the many joys of school life. The red, yellow and blue of Penny, Waller and Schwartz remain too, but additional Houses only dilute the past.

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