By Mohsin Maqbool Elahi
IT was 1967 when I got readmitted to St. Joseph’s College in Class VI. Our class teacher introduced himself as Joseph Kochupara and told us he was from Kerala, South India. Mr Kochupara taught us English Literature, English Composition and Grammar, Arithmetic, Geometry, History, Geography and Moral Science. He used to explain things so well with diagrams and pie-charts on the blackboard that we understood everything the very first time, be it English Literature or geometry.
He never used to beat us. However, he would admonish us when we were late or something. Once he saw our Hindi teacher, Mr Janardhan, ferociously beating most of the class. Mr Kochupara just could not take it. He firmly told Mr Janardhan, “You are NOT going to beat any of my students!” And that was that. We were so relieved about it that it brought smiles to our faces. The next day during our first class in the morning, he inquired from us as to who was beaten the other day, and he sympathised with all those who were.
One day he brought a pair of roller skates which he said used to be his during his teens and lent them to us one by one. Some students skated in the huge passage right next to our class. The skates were so much in demand that somehow my turn never came!
Mr Kochupara came to class one day and said he would be taking us to the Botanical Gardens on Saturday. We were absolutely delighted about it. On Saturday morning, when we reached school dressed in our best clothes, we saw a bus waiting for us. We quickly took our seats in the bus along with Mr Kochupara and soon were on our way.
We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves at the Botanical Gardens. We got to see the centuries old banyan tree and started playing hide-and-seek there. Then Mr Kochupara took us on boat rides where we rowed our own boats and shrieked with joy and excitement while doing so.
Once, while standing on a wooden bridge over a large pond, we saw a green-coloured water-snake and several of us were mighty scared. Mr Kochupara quickly arrived there and assured us saying that water-snakes were non-venomous, so we need not worry about it biting us or anything.
After a while he took us to the back gate where a daab-wala was standing with his cart. He treated each and every one of us to daab (coconut water). We were thrilled to bits about it and happily sipped the daab with the help of straws.
Soon it was time to go home. We took our seats on the bus and headed back towards school. December came and we appeared for our examinations. When we took our last examination, we were feeling sad, knowing too well that some new teacher would be there for us instead of Mr Kochupara. When classes started during the first week of January 1968, we were surprised to find Mr Joseph Kochupara waiting to greet us in class. It did not take us long to realise that he was going to be our class teacher for Class VII too. We could have received no better gift from Providence.
The last time I met him was towards the fag-end of 1969 at a fete in school. I was wearing a grey turtle-neck sweater with beige trousers and camel-coloured shoes by Bata called Goofers. I still remember his last words to me: “Mohsin has grown into a handsome young man.” PS: Mr Joseph Kochupara passed away on August 25, 2012. He was the best school teacher I ever had. Besides, he was an extraordinary human being with a heart of gold. May his soul rest in peace, Amen.
(The writer is senior journalist with Dawn newspaper, Karachi)