Saturday, May 10, 2014

sydney carton

I clearly remember those days. Close to the end of the winter season, may be….the middle or the end of that December 1996, morning 10am felt a lot fresh after frequent but irregular drizzles. Rain drops were still rolling and falling down the tips of leaves of neem trees that stood in a single line, parallel to our classrooms-complex building. Few sunrays were still able to reach the tree tops, piercing through the dispersed masses of seasonal greyish clouds. Rain drops dripping from leaf tips scattered those golden sunrays, glistening like shiny stars.
Cool, mild, balmy fresh breeze was passing through the window grills and was giving us the best season of the year for a locale situated in the tropical. From my seat, close to the window on the left side, I turned my head left and glanced through the window gratings silently but aimlessly. I could see the tree trunks and twigs drooping down from the lowest branches. Some mynahs were mimicking something among themselves senselessly from those branches.
Farther the basket ball courts were so silent without any one in the morning hours. Still farther the kho-kho courts and the football filed looked deserted; the red-dusty clay was wet with rainwaters. Arrays of trees demarcated the field boundaries. On the extreme north-eastern edge of the football field, those isolated old cemeteries looked non-existent. All was quiet on the empty fields and my heart felt a bit heavy for the first time in my life. A never-felt-before-feeling.
We were sitting in the classroom of 9th G-section, in nadar saraswathi higher secondary boys’ school, theni that I attended from aranmanaip pudhur, daily cycling up and down a distance of almost 5 kms oneway. It was the first period of the day, like any day it starts with our class teacher teaching English lessons in Tamil to us-Tamil medium guys. Mr.LND (L.narendra deva) had just completed the lesson-9 he was taking in bits for an entire week.
It drew to a close….but….the class was unusually silent and I could hear some heavy sighs too.  Not because the class was sooooo boring, rather…., the lesson mr.LND completed was so overwhelming and left almost all of us silent and emotionally stunned.
Mr. LND sat on his chair turning the pages of our attendance register, asking whether anyone was absent. No reply. After a few seconds pause, our class leader, natarajan stood up, looked around and replied briefly, “Sir, all present sir”. Mr. LND said, “sari, ukkaaru (ok, sit down)”.
The class room was silent and the air was solemn.
Mr. LND looked at his watch, preparing to leave. Breaking the silence, he announced, “tomorrow, we will take a look at the essay of this lesson, ok?!”
The class was still silent. Understanding the situation, mr.LND left the classroom, suppressing and hiding a doleful smile.
That was the first time ever an English lesson had any real impact on any of us guys.
Like many emotional idiots of tamilnadu I too underwent those feelings of bereavement and helplessness at the end of the lesson.
“Sydney carton’s sacrifice”
That became the first of only a few English stories I came across and liked. Though there are many characters in this piece of that bulky tale of 2 cities, I don’t remember any other name sooooo well. This is the act that makes Sydney carton a significant and more colourful figure in the story than others.
Am I feeling nostalgic?! as my wife and my kid are in chennai, alone at home, lying on my bed, peering through the window gratings, this vizag weather, after last night’s heavy rainfall and the whole day covered in dark clouds and sea breezes, without much sun light, exactly THAT SAME PATTERN….combined with the thought of my college days…..inadvertently brings about those good old memories.
Further….that very story, now in retrospection adds more meaning to what a sacrifice is all about.
Though Sydney carton sincerely loves lucie manette, his wasted life style makes him think he does not deserve her love and makes him declare he cannot demand the same love in return.
So he chooses to sacrifice, with a lot of courage and attitude.

And he readies his neck for the guillotine as he spends the last moments of his life..... contemplating, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."

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