In Pursuit of a Scholarship

                                           

My father sadly died when I was just a few months old.  I therefore do not know him, nor do I remember him.  The only information that I have about him is what I heard said about him by those who allegedly knew him and through some old photographs in the Pereira archives.   My mother spoke very little about him and perhaps it was her way of coping with life without a spouse.  My father was a civil and mechanical engineer and worked for the government.  In his spare time, he loved the theatre and was known to act in skits that were put up by the community.  He also loved fishing.  I cannot say that it was difficult growing up without a father.  My mother did a magnificent job caring for six very active children and giving us the kind of love that only a doting mother is capable of giving.  However, I have often thought that it might have been different if my father was around.  As a young growing individual, I became a strong observer of people. I still am to this day.   I believe that living on the fringes of poverty does that to one.  I noticed how much more in material things my friends with fathers had, and came to terms with the fact that some day those material things would become a part of my inventory. As a young growing individual with lots of ambition it was hard to understand why material things were not that important.   This situation provided me with the incentive, however, to work hard at my books in order to enter a profession that would be lucrative enough to provide me with the “good life.”

Most of my friends who had fathers, also worked for the Government which was the chief employer in Zanzibar. By virtue of the fact that they had served for many years as honest, hardworking individuals they had developed friendships in high places and consequently had an edge over those who did not when it came to obtaining assistance or special favours for any of their personal needs.  One of them was obtaining scholarships for their children.  Year in and year out, Scholarships that were offered by Governments from the U.K. to India went to the children of government workers. Most of these individuals were in high paying jobs and could easily carry the burden of paying the way for their children.   It would seem that there was little hope for poverty stricken individuals no matter how well they did in School. 

Given this scenario, I decided that I would have to take up employment where there was a possibility of working long hours (with overtime) in order to make as much money as possible.  In this way through ambitious saving, I could one day afford to put myself through college.  However, the years went by and though my savings became substantial (by Zanzibar standards) I discovered that the cost of education went up exponentially. After eleven years at my job, I found that I was no way closer to my ambition to enter college. 

My wife who was always sensitive to my needs and the needs of the family, knew how much a college education meant to me and so she persuaded me to quit my job and enter St. Xavier’s College, a Jesuit institution inBombay (now Mumbai) in India. Leaving home and crossing the Indian Ocean was a heart breaking episode in our lives but there was an understanding that nothing can be achieved without much sacrifice and hard work.  Since I was away from my studies for over eleven years, I found myself working almost around the clock to master the material that was mandated by the University in the first year of the Arts Program.  I went through some very stressful times when I discovered that the material that I studied was very easy to understand but difficult to remember.  How was I going to pass an examination was uppermost in my thoughts.  Fortunately for me, the Principal of the College Fr. Eddie D’Cruz, who had done his doctorate at Oxford,  set me at ease and explained that given a little time, my memory would be trained to remember and that though I might think that nothing is retained after one has studied hard that this was simply not borne out by facts.  Fr. D’Cruz was my mentor for the four years that I was a resident student at St. Xavier’s College and included me in a few of his social engagements such as listening to the London Philharmonic Orchestra that visited Bombay, to name only one.

  I obtained a first class in my first year and returned to my family in Zanzibar during the summer vacations. My son was born two months after I had entered college and I was seeing him for the first time. Nobody can really describe the emotions of this first meeting.  Both my children (the first was my daughter) viewed me as a stranger but children are very resilient and soon accepted me as someone close to them and their mother. It took me almost a week to convince them that I was their Dad and not their Uncle.  Unfortunately, there was very little time to bond with them since in a short time I would be away from the family again. When I got home, I had much time to think about the future.  I always felt pangs of guilt that my wife had to financially and emotionally support my venture at university.  This meant that she had to work and raise a family and this must have been very hard on her. Fortunately my mother was always beside her to assist and give her the strength to withstand the loneliness of being apart from her husband.  My mother was my wife’s constant companion and during my absence must have seen every movie showing.

While I was home on holidays, I finally decided to write a letter to the Government of India explaining to them my thoughts on how their scholarships were distributed in Zanzibar.  I suggested that there aught be some other mechanism in place for the distribution of their scholarships so that the most deserving ones were the beneficiaries.  I also explained my situation and requested them to consider me for a Commonwealth Scholarship in view of the first year college results that I obtained.  When I mailed the letter, it was with a sense of foreboding.  I was distinctly under the impression that since I was dealing with a bureaucracy my letter to the Ministry of Education in New Delhi would be filed under Z.  To my surprise and astonishment a couple of weeks later, I received a large envelope from the Ministry.  My heart began to beat harder for some unknown reason.  When I broke the seal I was absolutely thrilled that the Ministry had granted me a scholarship which was to last me until the completion of my doctorate should I have decided to go the length.  I read the letter several times in total disbelief of my good fortune.

The Commonwealth Scholarship paid for my passage to and from India by air.  It paid all my fees for the courses that I would be taking.  My medicals would be looked after by them and on top of that I would be paid a living allowance every month that would pay for my accommodation and my meals with some left over for other things. All the books that I purchased relevant to the courses would be paid for in full by the Government of India.  This was a windfall.

I need hardly say that the news of this scholarship award was received with much jubilation by the family.  Both my wife and I once again felt that perhaps there was some justice in this world.

I make bold to say that on my promptings, two other students who were residents of the College Hostel and who were on the verge of going home because of financial reasons also obtained scholarships from the Government of India.  It is obvious that somebody up there loved us all!