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 Connon 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 93er 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 89er Akiva Elias, son of my very good friend and classmate Elijah Elias, also popularly known as Ooky. How did Elijah get his nickname Ooky?


Ooky, Rifka and me in Mumbai in 1994

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.

Our English teacher from 8th to 10th Standard, the late R. G. Salmon Photograph: Courtesy Mr. Salmon's son, Luke.

Elijah wrote a hilarious piece. The late Mr. R. G. 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 (Rivca) 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, the late Mr. W. H. Thompson (see last issue for picture) 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 the late Mr. A. G. Morecroft and Mr. Thompson.


P. T. Master Mr. A. G. Morecroft who saved my life

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!


Arvind, Viney and myself holidaying in Mousoori in 1960

I was a resurrected Dead Chicken - and that was fine. I remember 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
Savage House Captain 1959
Oulu, Finland