Memories Proud and Humble - 1

Francisco Correia-Afonso

To begin these light reminiscences at the beginning, I was born at Benaulim, a Goan village, whose people have the reputation of being clever but eccentric, on the 17th October, 1893.

This, of course, is strictly not a reminiscence, but only hearsay.

I was named Francis Anthony after my great-grandfather who, without having any theories about Back to Methuselah, achieved the age of 96. My parents, who lived to celebrate their Golden Wedding, had twelve children, eight daughters and four sons, or, as my Father loved to say, eight silver and four copper. My Mother used to tell me that I was a weakling as a child and that an ancient of the village, wishing to console her in her anxiety, made the profound remark: "This boy will be strong, because he is slightly weak." A neighbour, discovering in me some traces of intelligence, as long as he lives!" These village sages meant by their paradoxical prophecies to reassure my parents that I would make good.

My Father, though far from well-to-do, meant to give this twelve children the best education , and in 1907 I was sent as a boarder to St. Mary's High School, Bombay, after a smattering of English learnt in Goa. Knowing little English, I was in St Mary's the Fool of the Class for the first few months, until at the terminal examination I stood first. Teachers and classmates thought there must be some hanky-panky or that it was a miracle, but my subsequent record cleared me of all suspicion of anything untoward. I was very fond of reading, but did not pay much attention to the prescribed text-books. In my Matriculation year, a classmate, who sat just behind me in the study-hall, kept prodding me with his ruler forcing me to study the texts. "What business is it of yours?", I asked. "It is my business", said my friend, "I have laid a bet on you!". My friend had racing blood in his veins, and I am happy to say he won his bet. I stood first at the Matriculation Examination in 1910.

When Principal Gunjikar and I retired together from Government service in March 1949, my friend and colleague recalled at the farewell dinner which Mr. D.C. Pavate, the D.P.I., gave us, that he stood second at the Matriculation that year, and that I beat him only by three marks. But my dear Gunjikar, whatever your Mathematics may say, a miss is as good as a mile.

With my brow crowned with Matriculation laurels, I entered the portals of St. Xavier's College. My reminiscences of my Jesuit teachers in school and my Jesuit professors at College would fill a book; the good work they have done for me and others must be recorded in the Book of Life. I had a successful career in College. As the B.A. Examinations approached, I was wandering rather restlessly in the College corridors, when one of the Fathers told me: "You look like a hen that doesn't know where to lay an egg." Well, I laid a golden egg, with First Class Honors in English, the Ellis Scholarship and a Dakshina Fellowship. At the M.A. it was literally a golden egg - the Chancellor's Gold Medal.

During my college days, am outstanding event was a visit of Sarojini Naidu to Bombay. She came; she spoke; she conquered. We students followed her about everywhere. Believe it or not, I wrote a sonnet to her , which she was kind enough to appreciate. I only recollect one line: " For I have drunk your eloquence like wine." A merciful providence has made me forget the rest. I was also privileged to hear Mrs. Annie Besant, Sir Pherozeshah Mehta, Rabidranath Tagore, and Surendranath Bannerjee, in what must have been his swan song. There were giants in those days; they were still the days of the great subject and the grand style. Dr. Alban Goodier , S.J, my principal during my later College days, was also a past master in the art of oratory.

With my academic record, I was fated to be a Professor. My older friends shook their heads as much as to say that , with all my golden eggs, I was really a goose to take to education as a career. But I have never regretted my vocation, as it has given me the privilege to serve in some of the leading Colleges of the State. I have one qualification for a Professor- absent-mindedness. I once went to the College with one brown and one black shoe. On another occasion, a friend having charitably presented me with a new walking-stick because he did not like the old look of my old danda, bought for four annas in the Crawford Market, I went out with two walking-sticks, my old love and the new. If I had any temptations to intellectual pride as a Professor, I was cured of it by a little child. One of my godsons asked his father: " Daddy, is my godfather a dunce? He is still going to College!" Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings...

Continued on page 2

(Broadcast from All India Radio, Dharwar - January 1952)

From: After Many Days - Francisco Correia-Afonso (A Birth Centenary Tribute1993)