The Story of a Study Tour

A couple of weeks back, my school-going son told me that he had to deposit some money with the principal; his class was going on a picnic-cum-study tour, and the money had to be paid in advance. He came back from the picnic a happy boy, and claimed that he had done some studies too while on tour!

Years ago, I was doing my graduation in Trivandrum (it wasn’t Thiruvananthapuram then!). I used to stay with my aunt (father’s sister) and family those days. In the second year of my B.Sc., one day it was announced in the class that our batch would be going on a study tour lasting a week. All of us were asked to deposit Rs.100 with the Department in ten days’ time so that the college could book the train tickets and make arrangements for our stay, etc.

Unlike now, Rs. 100 was a princely some in the late 1970s; pocket money wasn’t in vogue, at least in my family, or else I could have paid it out of my allowance. I knew full well that my dad wouldn’t be in a position to spare that amount in time; and I didn’t know who else to ask. It was not fair to tell my aunt or uncle, because I didn’t want to put them to trouble.

So, I decided to skip the study tour, even though it meant that I would lose out on some marks in the final examination. Somewhere within me, I felt bad that I wouldn’t be able to join my batch mates because it wouldn’t have been merely a study tour but also some fun and frolic, besides an opportunity to travel to many places in Kerala where I had never been before. Any way, I didn’t have any option but to opt out.

As the last date for depositing Rs.100 neared, most of my classmates had already paid up. The Head of my Department who, unfortunately for me happened to be a family friend, kept asking me why I had not paid yet; and every time he asked, I had to wriggle out of the situation by giving some excuse or other.

Just three days before the last date, I told my aunt that I would be leaving for about ten days the following weekend for Quilon (present-day Kollam). She was quite surprised because it was midway through the academic session and there were no holidays coming up. And through the day, she kept asking me why I had suddenly decided to go to Quilon, and eventually I had to tell her the truth.

Probably she must have discussed the matter with my uncle that evening, and like I had rightly guessed, they would have found it difficult to spare that money at such short notice. The next morning, she advised me to talk to my two uncles (my father’s brothers) who also happened to be working in Trivandrum those days. Much against my wishes, and only to mollify my aunt, I went to them. It was that time, when there were too many days at the end of the money, and they too expressed their regret, genuinely at that, at not being able to help me, for they too had many things to take care of, and one of them was already helping me out by providing me my tuition fees regularly, and my sister was staying with the other and doing her Masters.

So, I came back to my aunt and told her what had happened and left for college, albeit a little late. She was, naturally, quite upset that she couldn’t help me, because uncle (her husband) was also on a tight budget at that time since they had just bought a house in the city. When I came back from college in the evening, she was still very sad. I didn’t tell her the Head of the Department had been very angry with me (without, of course, knowing the reason for my not going for the tour) that I was not joining the study tour and he was planning to talk to my father about it. My classmates and friends too were very unhappy that I was not going along with them.

So, the last day for paying the money arrived, and I went to college as usual. The Head of the Department asked me whether I had changed my mind about going for the tour, and I said, no. The matter ended there, as far as I was concerned. At about 1130, I got a message from the Staff Room that someone had come asking for me and I went down to meet the person. It was my aunt’s driver who wanted me to go with him urgently to her husband’s office.

That was the first and only time I visited my uncle’s office. I was thoroughly impressed by the paraphernalia that surrounded him. As I walked in, he asked for tea, and then gave me Rs.100, and with a wink, he said, “Rush back to your college and pay the money before it is late”. I was smiling! The driver was waiting outside, and we reached college fast, and I paid up in the nick of time. The HoD gave me a very funny look, and I was still smiling! There was no talk of the study tour when I returned from college in the evening, though my aunt and uncle were in a happy mood.

The next weekend, my aunt and uncle and their kids dropped me at the railway station. I still remember the twinkle in my uncle’s eyes as I went inside to join my classmates who were already at the platform.

The study tour, for me, was a wonderful experience…

Years later, during one of my vacations, I was in Trivandrum at my aunt’s place. Uncle had passed away a few months before that, and we got talking about many things, especially about my college days which I had spent at their house. It was then that she told me of the story of that study tour.

My uncle came from a big middle class family, and he was the eldest son of his parents. All four brothers were studying in different colleges at the same time, and it was tough for his father to meet all their expenses. Uncle got admission for Mechanical Engineering in Madras (and not Chennai!) and the already fragile financial situation had worsened. He had to stay in the hostel and the expenses shot up, but they were managing somehow or other.

In the second year of his studies, uncle’s class was to go on a study tour for which he had to deposit some amount with the college authorities. All his classmates went for the tour, but uncle couldn’t join them because he didn’t have the money nor could he have asked for it from his father; there was no one else who could have financed him. It was pretty tough on him, and he always felt a tinge of sadness and regret about not making it for the study tour.

So, when my aunt told him about my plight, he suggested that she should ask me to first talk to my other relatives as he himself was not able to give me the money. Later, as he came to know that I didn’t get the money and the last date was finally before me, he decided to take a loan from one of his colleagues so that I could make it for the trip. Uncle didn’t want that I should live with the regret of not being able to go for the study tour – as he had to go through in his college days.

I still recall the twinkle in his eyes as I was boarding the train on that study tour  three decades ago…