Dear OS, 

At the outset, I would like to thank you all for your support and good wishes to our school and me. The last few weeks were indeed very challenging for Sanawar and me, and we could not have survived without your support. I will always remain grateful.

We all have gone through a certain amount of ‘bullying’ in various degrees at school, and at times a bit of physical force too, but times have changed, and today not only is it illegal in the country but I dare say not done. It is a tall order to eradicate it from our school; but a beginning has to be made somewhere. ‘Somebody has got to stop the rot and why not you’. This line from our school song has always guided me in life, and kept me going. There is so much of violence and intolerance in society, in our country and the world. You’ll find it on streets as well as in homes. There certainly is a moral decay I see everywhere, and we as an institute should take a lead in it to try and arrest it. “Change and decay in all around I see. Oh Thou! Who changes not, abide with me”.

Academics are the foremost area of our concentration and have been for a while. Our children need to be competitive and though there is a marked improvement in our results in the last couple of years, you will be happy to know, that our class XII Board result improved for the fourth consecutive year. The batch average has crossed 80% for the first time, but there are still miles to go… In our endeavor to make our students world class, we are making efforts to empower them in many ways. The introduction of smart classrooms in partnership with EduComp Solutions Ltd, will make it easier for our teachers to prepare their lessons, eliminate the need for our students to take notes and eventually create virtual classrooms. Emphasis is being put on weaker students by enhancing tutorials and extra classes.

Students Exchange programs are enriching the lives of our students when they travel and live with families of exchange students from other countries.

However, Sanawar is best known for all rounded education and equal importance is being given to extracurricular activities. This shows in our winning tournaments, debates and quiz contests etc. You will be happy to know that even in the middle of the recent crisis at school our children of different age groups lifted trophies in tournaments of squash, basketball and debates held at venues other than school. This shows the spirit of Sanawar. A question of mind over matter and spirit over mind. Yet, I am not blind to some weaknesses in our system and people, and am working aggressively to overcome them.

We as a school are in a transitional mode, still unfolding. My goal for Sanawar remains simple – that is to be the ‘best school of all’. In today’s world there is no place for second or third. You are the best or you are amongst the rest. To reach the top we all will require a collective concerted effort, for which I need your continued help and good wishes.

This is the first time I have ever written to you all via the OS website, and I must admit that it has given me a lot of joy to share some of my thoughts with you all. Do feel free to write to me.

Never Give In

Praveen Vasisht
Headmaster
OS -76

Back on the Hill top !
By Shomi Das

Ah Sanawar! That beautiful hilltop with red roofs outlining the ridge on which she sits came into view after Jabli . Driving up from Kalka- the same enchanting view that first greeted me as I drove up wih bag and baggage, wife and children and dogs in an open jeep in May 1974. It was now October 2009. The emotions surged and memories flooded back in a torrent and I was overwhelmed. No other place on earth has that magical quality, that eternal beauty and that serenity.

I suddenly became apprehensive because I was to inaugurate th basketball court for the class of 84 for which they had collected funds. Walking down past the CDH towards Trafford court I saw the children ( now all grown ladies and gentlemen ) but they looked just the same lovely playful kids of yesteryear and I could recognise them ,although names sometimes eluded me. My resolve to be strong broke, as I remembered them all and Pheroza and the fun and excitement of living in the Headmaster's House, walking past the cloisters listening to the chatter of children as they went from one class to another.

Things had changed but the the memories were still as alive as the present. In the whirl of "Hello Sir" I was bewildered and confused. But then Sanawarians don't like confusion and emotion so mixed up and two of my children came forward held me and simply and sternly said "enough of emotion we want to talk to you".

With my senses back I began enjoying from that moment onwards. It was hilarity and reminisces. It was only Sanawar and the children who could have given such love and happiness.

Shomi Das is the former Headmaster of Sanawar

MySalaryWiki.com
By Vishal Chatrath

Beer, sun and summer holiday induced mental numbness are a perfect chemical cocktail for thoughts ranging from the meaning of life to should I order more beer, what day it is today, to more serious matters like changing the world. Somehow. But don't know how.

Though biographies don't mention it, I am convinced that these were the conditions in which Einstein, Mozart, Stalin, Mao and Porsche found their grand inspirations. To very different ends.

Somewhere through the 3rd pint, it hits you. In multiple punches. The first punch is about the idea. Being yours, you have a special affection to it. Not unlike, your affection for your newborn. At the time, you are convinced that it is the best idea on the planet. Ever. The lever to spin the world out of its orbit has been found.

Then comes the second punch. A deflatory punch. How did I waste 37 years of my life by not coming up with this earlier?

In this sense, Berlin in the summer of 2009 was a perfect place to get the Kida for MySalaryWiki.com. Kida in Punjabi (my mother tongue) literally means an insect. In the more transcendental sense a Kida can be best described as a constant and mildly benevolent itch. Every entrepreneur/inventor knows how it feels like. A Kida just is.

The seed for this Kida was probably planted (unknowingly) during my first job interview for HP in 1997. The salary negotiation ended with "HP pays the best in class compensation based on annual salary surveys…". Take it or leave it. It's your first job after school. You take it. 13 years, 8 jobs, 7 cities, 5 countries, 3 companies, and 3 continents later, you still take it. Because you don't know better.

Best in class my a***. The Kida is born.

Summer 2009, Berlin. The Kida has hatched. The lucid vision. It’s a website. A platform where anyone, anywhere in the world can enter their salary data and compare it against other users.

No registration, no privacy issues, total anonymity. Simple. Bingo. MySalaryWiki.com is incubated.

The Missus notices it. “What’s up?“. “Whahh?“ My typical reaction to an interjection in my thought train. I manage to blurt out the basic idea.

“This is the first sensible idea for a business I have ever heard from you“, says from the Missus. I decide to take it as a compliment.

Let me be clear, MySalaryWiki.com is not about charity. Nor is it a neo-communist idealogical, uotopic horse-radish. It makes business sense. For everyone.

We’ve all heard the that deadbeat cliched story about the Indian (or was it Chinese) fishermen getting a better price for their catch once they got hold of a mobile phone that allowed them to bypass the middle-man and get information about the real market prices. Enabling India (China) to be the economic superpower.

Openly traded commodities are the backbone of international trade and in effect the rise of our civilization. Therefore we have all sorts of exchanges, for gold, rice, fish and so on.

If you really think about it, we, as professionals are selling our skills in a market place. In an efficient market, the best skills should invite the best rates. Unfortunately the market place is not open today.

There is no platform or “Exchange” where people can freely and anonymously share their salary information with fear of getting into a tight spot with their employers. The only way to get any salary information is through so called “surveys” by some compensation specialities whose operational transparency would make the CIA or Mossad headquarters look like an aquarium.

There are some salary websites, that claim to use end-user using online surveys. On closer inspection you notice that they have few and very fixed job categories, based on binocular view of world. Can someone really claim to know all the jobs that 6.8 billions are involved in?

There’s one based in USA (Glassdoor.com) which, for a salary questionnaire for UK, asked me for my 401K plan. Some should tell them that the “51st State” remark was supposed to a joke.

That where MySalaryWiki comes in. Enter your own job industry, your own job title, your own company, your own educational qualifications. Also choose if you get paid, hourly, daily, weekly, monthly or yearly. Anonymously. And compare to check is were taken for ride. If you were, apply for a new job. With the company that gives the best deal for your skills.

This means, best employees and find the best companies and vice-versa. The best quality commodity attracts the best price. Market becomes efficient. Everyone wins.

In less than 2 months of going live, we have users from from 78 countries and 734 cities. Without any real advertising. The people are speaking. The Kida was right.

My dear Raoul,

You are not alone. Fear of girls/ladies/women (a species no man can ever hope to understand and vice versa - nature has a warped sense of humour) may be in the genes of all Sanawarians, perhaps today diluted more than in my time. In me the fear was daunting and paralysing and took many years of nurturing, distant observation and timid, tentative contact to come to terms with, and then only with limited success. Facing a cricket ball directed at my hed at 90 mph (144 kph) or an opponent in the ring with muscles where I didn't even have places were far less fearful than a brief encounter with a girl in the corridors of Birdwood.

In 1937, the impossible happened. The most unthinkable change took place in the school's history. I returned from the winter holiday, which I had spent in Lahore with my mother and step father, to find coeducation had impacted with the the force of a force 4 hurricane. Girls and boys were to be taught in the same classroom by the same teacher! A concept that sent me screaming into Foxy's cave, if you know where that is.

Then a truth hit me, that has remained indelible for the rest of my life: Girls were cleverer than I was. My masculine pride has never recovered from that shock however much I recognise the fact as being indisputable, like discovering the world is not flat. When I later went to London University I conceeded: Girls are cleverer and the world is round.

1937 was also a time when something else happened to me. I noticed that girls had chests that stuck out and walked in a funny way, especially if you saw them from the back. I was a senior. They called us big chaps in our day. Most big chaps belonged to an elite club, from which I appeared to be excluded. I discovered why.

On Sundays boys were allowed to meet their sisters on Peacestead (did you know this name was given after the first world war?). Certain boys were given permission to meet their girl friends, who were not their sisters, provided they did so in the open and with proper decorum. This relationship in our day was called squaring. Boys often asked a girl to square them and sent their letters of request via a boy who had a sister. Chaps who were squaring belonged to the elite club. They spoke a silent language that only they understood. I was envious. I resolved to belong to the club.

But gaining membership proved monumental. I had to find a girl to square me. My brother had squared a girl. He was four years older than I and had left school. I could not draw upon his experience, but he had told me that he had once actually kissed a girl. I remembered her name. She had a sister called Joan who was still at school. Joan was in a form below me. She had the chest and walking atributes I had noticed and also a pretty face.

That was enough. I decide to write her a letter. I was reading a spy novel at the time. I wrote her a long letter of adoration, asking her to square me. When prep was over that evening, I intended to find her and slip the letter into her hand. My plans suffered the blow that fate often delivers to mice and men. I coud not get close to her before she left. Clutching the incriminating letter, I was afraid it may fall into the wrong hands. Like the spy in the novel, I ate it.

Never give in is a great motto. I wrote Joan another letter. This time I kept it short. The last one had given me indigestion. After hours of chewing the top off my pencil, I wrote four words, "Will you square me?" Remembering the spy, I left it unsigned. This time I was successful and slipped the letter into her hand. The contact was sufficient. I did not wash my hand that night. The next evening after prep she slipped a note about 4 centermeters square into my hand. On it was a single word, "Yes". I could not sleep that night.

Romeo was a nut case and so was I. "Will you meet me on Lovers Hill?" I stated the date and time. The answer on the usual stationery came back "YES!". After lights out, the capital letters and exclamation mark created fantasies better left undiscribed.

I ran around the Long Back to Lovers Hill. Joan was standing on the path. Suddenly my knees went weak. Her cool, clean beauty made me realise what I looked like. The sides of my eyes were blue and bruised, my lip was swollen and cut from boxing training. I was sweating and probably didn't smell too good. We walked up the khudside and sat cocooned in long grass. I did not know what to talk about or what to do. Nor did she. We sat there in strained, fidgetty, uncomfotable silence, looking across the valley below. Then I remembered my brother. He had kissed her sister. I grabbed Joan and kissed her. I thought she would push me away. She didn't. She kissed hard against my lips. The cut opened up and I could taste the blood in my mouth. My lip was hurting. The more she pressed the worse it got. "How long do we keep this up?" I asked out of the corner of my mouth.

She shoved me away and stood up. "Not a moment longer," She brushed the grass from her skirt, my blood from her lips and left. That was the worst memory I have of school. I never tried to square anyone again. Hockey, football, cricket and even boxing were better than girls, even though their chests stuck out and they walked in a funny way.

Also, think about it, Raoul, if I had been caught, I would have been flogged and expelled. I would have been a disgraced cad and bounder and obliged to kill myself and I would never have written you this confession. Did I hear you say, "Pity you didn't get caught" ?

I have other tales to tell, a little less raunchy. But maybe I have bored you enough. This is a pretty long e-mail.

With laughter and happiness I send best wishes to all OS.

George

Browne of Havelock 30-37

PS. Lets end on a high note. Here's an extract of Sir Henry Lawrence's speech on his last visit to the school:

The only true creed for man is the service of the Lord, and He is best served by helping the deprived and downtrodden. Look not for gain , look not for success; success and gains will come in time; look to your courage and determination. To give in is not the creed of a Sanawarian - NEVER! You will fail me if you give in - that much you all owe me as your founder.

I was President of the OS Association in the UK in the year of our school's 150th anniversary. The late Sir John Lawrence, the great grandson of Sir Henry, was the honoured guest at our Reunion lunch. I have a copy of the speech he made. It's about a page long. Would you like me to post it on this forum?

Or would you like to know about the last surviving child of Sgt. Tilley? Or both

Are you a glutton for punishment?

PPS. Just seen your last e-mail: If you don't know who Lord Roberts was, what did they teach you in school? He was Viceroy, built the trunk roads, the railways, the postal and telegraph services, taught Indian's English and gave them jobs in government offices, the first step to self rule, etc. He laid the foundations of India's/Pakistan's infrastructure. He was a man of peace. "The pen is mightier than the sword". There was a statue of him in Lahore, holding a pen high in one hand and a sword lowered in the other. He also saved Sanawar from bankruptcy, which is why George Barne named a house after him. George Barne created the 'House System' in the manner of English Public Schools and fashioned Sanawar of the lines of Clifton College his old school in Bristol, England. I can see I'm going to have an uphill task with you, Raoul.

MY SANAWAR
Batch of 1985 Thanksgiving Speech, October 2, 2010
By Jaimal Shergill

Good evening, Batch of 60 and 85, Old Sanawarians, Sanawarians, Esteemed Teachers, Headmaster Sir, Ladies and Gentlemen.

Chapel is a solemn place for us we came here either to pray or be castigated in front of the whole school. The pulpit from where I speak is doubly solemn, because this is where our prefects would either mete out summary punishment or utter the dreaded words “Oye see me behind the Chapel”, which had the desired effect of ruining our whole day, contemplating the type of punishment to be endured later.

So therefore, in this solemn place we remember our teachers who are no more. We bid them peace and thanks for having the patience to teach us and their impatience to give us six of the best when needed. We will miss them, especially when we meet like this and our reverence for them increases as each year goes by.

Thanks to the batch for giving me the honor to make this speech. The reason probably was that I had not been a prefect or shouted any commands at NCC, so the batch probably assumed I would be able to make a speech instead of shouting ‘Saavdhan’ or ‘Eyes Left’. Well we will find out shortly. The other reason I think I got both male and female votes, is because I looked pretty good in a skirt. I need to clear up this matter after 25 years and the reason I did wear a skirt was because Jai and myself were challenged to wear a skirt in exchange for a loaf of juicy Britannia cake. Cake versus skirt there was no contest, the cake won and we were in skirts.

But being the oldest co-ed in the world is another great advantage of Sna’. You had to interact with girls, which meant you had to have something ready to say to them. Just ask Rohit Roy our Head Boy, who perfected his famous opening line to girls, in the mirrors at ‘Pans’’; slowly running his fingers through his hair in a deep American accent he would croon “Hi there”.

So, I would like to thank the girls of the ’85 batch once again, for being brave enough to endure us and for being part of our lives.

We also have to thank Sna’ for giving us a unique language, ‘Pans’ for the loo, ‘Bags it’ to reserve places, ‘Chappoing’, ‘Ragda’, ‘Ammo’, ‘Tuck’, ‘Jam sessions’, ‘Grabbo’, ‘Bhutta Raids’ and a whole dictionary that keeps evolving. This reminds me, during a ‘Bhutta Raid’ on a neighboring farm one of the raiders was caught by the farmer. The raiders could easily have fled leaving the hostage, but in Sna' you don’t not let a friend down. So, the whole raiding party stayed and after protracted hostage negotiations back and forth, he was released for the princely sum of a bar of soap. Incidentally, during my father’s time a ‘bhutta raider’ was similarly caught and released for, a bar of soap. Sna’ taught us about the value of friendship, even though the value could be neatly measured with a bar of Soap.

Once we had ‘Chappoed’ a pheasant in Lower Barnes, we had no knowledge of cooking, so we improvised and cooked it in Parachute coconut hair oil. It tasted so horribly bad, that we decided to spice it up with onions. I was asked to keep watch over the prized pheasant while A.P. and Parry went to Moti Corner to buy onions. They were caught on the way back and promptly put in the murga position. So, there I was holding what looked like a burnt ‘murga’ from our hiding place, watching my two friends also in ‘murga’ position. After twenty minutes of ‘Ragda”, they still did not betray the fact that I was the third culprit. That, to me, was the essence of friendship and trust.

As General George S. Patton so aptly said about trust, “I would rather have a German division in front of me than a French one behind me”. I think we all will can proudly say that we would rather have a Sanawarian beside us; but especially so, that the Nilgarians are not behind us.

We love our Nilgarian communist comrades, it’s just that Sna’ promoted healthy competition. We learnt to focus on what’s best of yesterday and today. If we quarrel between the past and the present, we shall find that we have lost the future. This competitive spirit has produced one of our most prolific Rally Champions in Hari Singh, an English County Cricketer; Karoki Lewis, a World Cup Polo Player; Jai Shergill and a Limca Book of Records entry for Col. P.S. Grewal for the longest horse ride through the Thar Desert. It has also given us Sameer Sharma our batch Bolla champion.

We loved competing at Inter House Games, Inter public school games, debates, plays. Remember the Cock House competition. But nothing beat inter school games and especially the matches with PPS. We had our beautiful girl cheerleaders from our batch but, PPS had to rely on their reserves to do the cheering. They had a quaint cheerleading song that went like this “Wahe guru Wahe guru bol, come on PPS scoor goal, PPS scoor goal”. PPS were pretty good at hockey and football but were never very good at English grammar.

Tradition and the fabric of institutions are fading around us all but Sna’ taught us to respect and enjoy tradition. The most enjoyable tradition was that of coining pet names. I think practically no one escaped a pet name. High Balls and Low Balls, nothing to with anyone’s dodgy anatomy, but their bowling style on the cricket pitch. 'Mulla' had nothing to do with religion. We have had Money and Dollar in the same batch and luckily Rupee in another batch, otherwise it could have been very confusing for bankers. We also had dynastic names, Massey senior joined Sna’ so all his younger brothers were called Massey. There was Katta, so when his sister joined Sna, she had no chance and was called Katti. We probably had the most notorious pet name in our batch that rhymed with Katti, which for sake of propriety, I can’t repeat in the Chapel.

Marching at to school and prep and remembering the fallen heroes who gave their today for our tomorrow. Respect for the school colors, games kit and school kit and small things that gave structure to our lives.

Who says grace these days, but in prep school, we had to say grace before food. One day Dogra was called to say grace in prep school, which was, “for health and strength and daily food, we thank our lord god”. This was a very solemn moment, with the whole prep school seated with their heads bowed, tummy’s grumbling, he gets up and says; “Rub a dub dub, thank god for the grub ya’. Before we had time to laugh we heard a loud thud and Dogra was on the ground after getting a box to his ear from Mrs. Rampal.

We also thank Sna’ for instilling discipline and form into our lives.

NCC was the ultimate in discipline, practice no matter what the weather was. Practice for Founders started months in advance and that meant summer time. People used to faint and no one flinched.

We learnt responsibility, we learnt to brace ourselves to our duties, whether it was getting ‘Chota hazari’ for the seniors in the morning or polishing shoes with water, spit and polish so they shone like mirrors. Prefects had to do manage their own affairs as well as being responsible for whole dorms. But the best job was by far was being Food Prefect. You were responsible for dishing out butter, jam, extra milk, cutlets and other goodies. We used to sneak out whatever food we could, to eat it later, warm on the ‘bukharis’ in the dorms. There were all sorts of ways to sneak food out of CDH and one day with chapattis tucked into our shorts under our cardigans, we were walking out of CDH taking cover behind Kaiker who was a batch senior and quite tall. As we reached the exit, he confidently wished Mr. B. Singh, “Good night Sir”. Since we gave Mr. B. Singh a wide berth, it was unusual for a student to wish him with such gusto. He stopped Kaiker and asked “Is every thing all right” response, “yes Sir”, “did you get enough to eat”; “yes Sir”; “ then what is that my boy” he pointed to his shirt pocket which had a round oil stain on it. Before Kaiker could reply he got a quick back hand and out rolled a cutlet from his shirt pocket.

We learnt to appreciate the value of our education. We meet at a school that has stood for close to two centuries and has been noted for imparting knowledge and character. Which reminds me of a story, the assessment card was very official looking, like a little passport, with the Sanawarian crest on the front with rows of grades for each subject and if you failed in a subject it was marked in red ink. If you failed 3 subjects you made it to the Housemasters list and if you failed in 5 subjects or more you were on Heady's list. Jai Shergill was always on Headmasters list after getting a series of lectures from the Headmaster with each poor assessment card, he decided to change the address and had the assessment card sent to the farm in Batala. The farm manager over the next year kept getting assessments cards and being semi-literate, he thought they were court summons. But he got very worried with the sight of the increasing red ink in the cards and he decided to take the cards to our grandmother fearing that they were High Court summons. This is when Jai got caught and faced his own sort of summons.

Sna’ also taught us humility. We had to do socially useful productive work (SUPW) to help the poor and improve the environment well before it was fashionable or politically correct to do so. One day a SUPW party was supposed to clean up the area above tuck shop till the Chapel. VV was the leader of the party and decided that we would just goof around hoping no one would know the difference. Unfortunately, Mr. B. Singh decided to check up personally. As he was heading towards the SUPW party, VV shouted “let’s duck guys” and promptly jumped behind the wall, only to roll down the khud for two stories and break his arm. No one in Sna’ was above the law and that also instilled humility. In prep class, Rohit our head boy was the prefect and sat in the heavily curtained Geography Class. One day he was caught by Mr. Harish Dhillon throwing back a piece of paper that invariably one of us had thrown at him. Once Rohit got angry he would get a bit incoherent and no matter how much Rohit tried to reason with Mr. Dhillon, he kept listening and calmly told him “Start Rolling”; indignantly Rohit stated, “but I’m the Head Boy”, once again Mr. Dhillon calmly said “Roll Beta” and with that, Rohit started front rolling and each time he hit the pavement, so did his Head Boy badge clinking with humility.

I cannot re-count all the wonderful memories of Sna’ in a few minutes, we have been away from Sna’ for 25 years and have learnt that Sna’ gave us some of our best moments, values, and memories. This was My Sanawar and it is My Sanawar that has made us proud of our friendships, proud that we are Sanawarians and proud that when difficulty rears its head, we Never Give In.

Thank you.