Of breaking the traditional mould

This photograph was taken in 1966, when I was in the last year of my school, Cluny Convent.

My beloved mother had a dream. Vani and I (Kasturi), her precious daughters, had to be educated in a convent school so that we could converse fluently in English.

In 1955, it was quite unheard of Kannadigas wearing knee-high skirts sans flowers and kumkuma and joining Cluny Convent. Our teachers were Irish nuns and my first glimpse of them left me frightened as they were red skinned with deep blue eyes, garbed from head to toe in white robes.

Mother Michael was red as a tomato and rotund, Reverend Mother Cecelia was tall and fair and Mother Lawrence had a ski jump nose. The then fees of Rs 10 per month was exorbitant, but no expense was too high to keep her dream alive.

Every day, just before 8 am, we used to dash out of the door to catch our bus as Saigals song played on Radio Ceylon. That was our cue. From Kumara Park to Malleswaram 15th Cross, we took the public bus from Swastik Talkies (now defunct) bus stop.

The bus fare …read more