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1996
LONDON LETTER
By: T.R.K
ENCHANTMENT AND EDUCATION
I must have been 15 years old, in a remote little village in India when I first read S.K.Chettur's book on idiomatic English and what he termed "Indianisms". Subsequently I read his memoirs, the greater part of which was about his time at Oxford as an undergraduate before the second World War. I was enchanted and spellbound by his description of this Gothic town, this 13th century University left unchanged through the mist of times like a large tent held together by geodesic "dreaming spires."
Then there was this fabled river Isis (a footling stream, I was to discover later) flowing through this crenellated stone built town, with students in espadrilles and boaters resting languorously on its banks!When I first arrived in England penniless, after a 40 day trek by road from India, one of the first friendships I made was with Adil Jussawalla, an Indian who had just "come down" from Oxford and was establishing himself as a poet. Adil had friends who had all "come down" and were variously looking for jobs in journalism and publishing; all of them had this air of genteel disdain and general poverty.
One of the ex-Oxonians I met in England was Dom Moraes who wrote kindly and flatteringly about my adventure in his "A Letter from London" column in the Times of India. Dark and brooding, this young and famous poet of few words had a stormy period as an undergraduate at Oxford. He got nearly "sent down" for long absences without permission and the company he kept whilst away from his college. A fellow Indian at Oxford in 1956-59 period who practised this mixture of disdain and high jinx was Ved Mehta, the blind writer, who has just published a book of memoirs of his time :" UP AT OXFORD". He recalls this feel brilliantly: "Not seeking amusement, drinking like fish, or talking volubly, we were vainly struggling with abstractions beyond our years, yet the struggles helped us to think on our feet, sharpen our wits, develop a certain lightness of touch, and cement friendships".
Up at Oxford on a series of revisits with Adil I discovered dozens of Indian students utterly at ease in classless student gear of corduroys and polo neck sweaters, carrying what seemed like entire collected editions of Balzac or Russell under their fragile arms. These were the privileged sons and daughters of Indian meritocracy: the parents had to be elitist, with subtle one-up-manship, and ambitious for their children; they had to have serious money.
One incident stands out in my mind from this period. I was always taking visiting Indian friends on day trips to Oxford. Once it was my ex-News Editor from New Delhi whose thoroughly practised unkindnesses to me during my period in his paper rankled. He was a changed man in my care: affable, conversational,full of unkind and scandalous gossip about his colleagues. I fretted with anger and discomfort and hoped he would do something so silly that I could laugh in his face and finally forgive him. We got quite outrageously drunk in a dark cavernous pub in Oxford, before we realized it was three in the afternoon. This is the mandatory hour when all pubs shut their doors and expel their reluctant drunks. We found ourselves on the kerb without having eaten or visited the pub's toilets. My News Editor friend needed to "go" as a matter of great urgency. There was no where in sight on a crowded Saturday afternoon where this comfort was available. All the dignity of my friend deserted him completely. I saw him by the curb, against the grand backdrop of Christ Church college, shaking like a leaf, with a stream of water running down his trouser legs into the gutter in an unceasing flow for several minutes. Then he lit a cigarette and looked at me craven-faced. I could not laugh, but I had forgiven him.
Oxford today has hardly changed. Privileged sons and daughters of the Indian rich still come. The intake is minuscule compared to the total student population or to the total number of overseas students. The figures are however interesting: In 1989 there were 34 applications from India and 6 acceptances; in 1990 total applications of 42 and 12 acceptances. The figures for 1991 are 38 and 5; for 1992 there were 38 hopefuls and 6 admitted; and for 1993 these had dropped dramatically to 20 applications and 2 final selections. These two acceptances will begin their first term this October in 1994. The fees are £9000 and £10,000 respectively for the Arts and Science subjects and a further £4000 per annum for accommodation in the college. This latter figure does not include food or travel from India. An Indian parent enduring a 3 year spell of expenditure to educate their scions in this enchanted place would need some 20 Lakhs of Rupees in reserve!
On a re-visit to Oxford in search of these children of privilege, I was once again struck by its architecturally deceptive beauty. You penetrate this medieval magic box lying innocently behind Gothic stone with increasing astonishment. You discover a tranquil nest of quadrangles and designer Victorian gardens stretching for acres. (Trinity, Christ Church, New College) The old tomb like stone work clad in shrubs and climbers often hides delightful, magical Fellows garden which is out of bounds for a casual visitor. At dusk as street lights come on, it is medievally monastic as you hear the college chapel bells ringing in unison, and the faint sounds of the organ like a haze laid over this tableau. The city of Oxford which began as a river crossing in Anglo-Saxon Times, soon had gatherings of English scholars who had been banned by Henry II from studying at the University of Paris.
All undergraduates of Oxford University are "members" of one of its twenty eight undergraduate colleges or seven Permanent Private Halls, with resounding names like Corpus Christi, Oriel, Magdalen, Keble, Balliol, Lincoln.
There were the Indian students I had come in search of, dressed in jeans and torn sweaters, cotton denim shirts and the occassional scarf jauntily thrown across the shoulder, carrying as usual large obscure tomes, often concealed by an immodestly short scholar's gown which is de rigueur if one dined in hall. They mostly looked utterly carefree, un-rebellious without the mock maturity and general air of disdain I was so familiar with, in the 60s students.
Oxford like Cambridge is certainly a very desirable place to go to as a student. There have been a crop of students who left an indelible mark behind are well-remembered with pride by people still working in the Students' Admissions offices and certainly in the Oxford Union.
Tariq Ali and Benazir Bhutto are arguably the most famous from the Indian sub-continent, as both rose to become presidents of this great debating forum. I understand that whilst losing none of its combative presence, the Union now has a "social side" to its activities. I quizzed Mrs Edna Clark at the Oxford Union (who remembered every Asian name associated with the Union going back some two decades) what this meant. "Theatre and music?" I queried. "No, no. Parties" was the answer.
I should be "down there" once again on a visit when the term opens on the 10th of October to speak to some of the Indian students who are lucky to have made it. That would be the amusing subject of another letter from London.
Anyone wishing to apply to Oxford University for undergraduate admissions for 1995 term should write to: Oxford Colleges Admissions Office, University Offices, Wellington Square, Oxford OX1 2JD. Tel: Oxford (0865 270207)
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