Thank You Frenchie!

It was the first week of December. Navy Week was being celebrated at the Visakhapatnam Naval Base. A bunch of my fellow boarders had got 'permission' to go to the beach to witness the awesome show the Indian Navy always puts up for the civilians. And of course, to get a glimpse of the dashing young naval officers! The venue being a little far, cabs a luxury students couldn't afford, the public transport was the wisest and safest choice.

It being a Sunday, we had 'special' lunch - pulihora or tiger rice as we translated it. Our warden knew that we would be a little too generous with our servings of this special lunch. She was in the dining room right from 12 noon: the beginning of our lunch time. As we served ourselves, she kept an eagle eye on the amount which went into our plates. If she found it to be a little too generous, she pointedly asked us if we were sure of finishing it. This personal comment did not affect my group of friends and me. Probably because it wasn't directed at us. But it did humiliate the girls who went overboard and became her targets. As Frenchie (that was our nick name for her) feared, there wasn't any ‘pulihora’ left for those who came towards the end. Ordinary white rice had to be served. That was when Frenchie gave all of us a piece of her mind. She did so without mincing words.The ones who had just served themselves were in a dilemma. Should they or shouldn’t they partake of it?

An uncomfortable silence descended in that dining room.You could hear a pin drop. Some of our seniors who were waiting to serve themselves, quietly left the dining room. We were dumbstruck. We weren’t sure about what we should do. We were almost done with lunch. My friends and I finished our lunch and returned to our rooms.

A couple of hours later our friends made their way out to the Naval Show. Tea was to be at 3 pm. advanced by an hour, to enable the ones leaving, to have a bite.

Frenchie was in for a shock! The dining room was empty! None of us went for tea on the advice of our seniors. It was our way of 'protest' if you could call it so. It was alien to us. To protest. In a convent institution you are taught to obey. Protest wasn’t a part of our vocabulary. We juniors were terrified of the tirade which was sure to come our way. But we also felt that there was some truth in what the seniors were saying. Some of us were insulted. At the dining table. The subject being the food on the plates of hungry teens on a Sunday. Poor Frenchie!

Our apprehension turned into reality. By half past 3 we were summoned. We followed our seniors who kept assuring us not to worry. I remember the scene vividly. Frenchie (a petite French nun of 60 + years) stood on one side and about 50 youngsters, most of them in their late teens, on the other.

She asked us the reason for not coming in for tea. We kept quiet. Frenchie then addressed the question to our senior akkas. The reason tumbled out. Our seniors made it clear that they did not mind if the younger ones had their fill. And that there wasn’t any special ‘puliohara’ for them. Plain white rice would suffice. She gave us a patient hearing. We expected quiet but firm angry words of reprimand (that is how Frenchie dealt with errant teenagers) which never came. Frenchie looked us straight in the eye, and apologised. She said she realised her mistake. And that she shouldn't have said some of the things she had. She appreciated the attitude of the seniors. She said she was proud of them for she was sure these young girls would go forth into the world and make it a better place. The anger was directed at her, not the food, wasn’t it? So, would all of us please go and have our tea? She said the food needs to be respected.

We were stunned. A 60+ years old nun, apologising to teenagers!! Giving the students their due! Never had we come across such a situation. Nor had any of us heard about it. Ever. All of us were humbled. Our respect and admiration for this frail lady with a strong character, increased manifold. Though she was always strict in her dealings with us, she was always fair. We all were aware of that. That day got imprinted in the minds of a set of youngsters. All of us learnt an important lesson for life. And we not only carried it ahead but passed it down as well.

This is but just one incidence described. I spent five years in this wonderful institution with Frenchie as my warden - a short statured French nun, who had left her family and native country as a young girl, to serve in an alien land. Along those five years, my hostel mates and I have imbibed a great many values. Not taught or lectured. But by example. We consider ourselves blessed to have had her as a mother figure for five formative years of our life.

To this day, I have followed what Frenchie taught us that day, on a bright December afternoon, in the second archway of a wonderful college hostel by an even more wonderful teacher. Our darling Frenchie.

It takes courage to admit to your mistakes and greatness to appreciate the act of sacrifice. It takes even more courage to apologise. And if the apology is being tendered to people far younger than you, then you have to gather all the courage you can muster. And tendering that apology does not make you inferior. In fact, it increases your stature. Like Frenchie stands in our memory.

Thank you, dear Frenchie. I have practised it and shared it with my students. I’m sure they will carry on this legacy wherever they go.