JOIN USSixteen years ago, I made the acquaintance of an erudite gentleman named John Jenkin. When I learnt that John (as he asked me to call him) had taught English in Western Kenya for 2 decades, I invited him to the school where I was teaching English. I felt that my class XII students would enjoy an encounter with the genial scholar, and requested John to spare some time to address the girls.
Retired and settled in his native Cornwall, John was spending a month in Bengaluru. He said that he would be delighted to meet young people and brought along one of his former students.
John told my colleague in the English department and me that he would willingly discuss “any subject except Shakespeare!” We regretfully replied that Shakespeare was the subject of the day! The Bard was central to the ISC Compulsory English curriculum, and we hoped that John would shed light (we needed illumination no less than our students) on Hamlet.
Befitting a discourse on ‘revenge tragedy’, John turned the tables on us. Instead of a serious analysis, he made fun of the play. “A bad choice,” John declared. Teenagers, he felt, ought to read ‘romantic’ Romeo and Juliet rather than ‘gloomy’ Hamlet. We politely informed John that we did not select the texts prescribed for study. We also reminded him that Romeo and Juliet ends just as disastrously for the principal characters as Hamlet.
“Let’s talk poetry!” suggested John, merrily changing the topic. I remembered that he had 2 published volumes of verse to his credit. They deal with John’s experiences in Wales, where he spent his childhood; in Kenya, where he worked; and in countries that he had visited, including India. John particularly liked our city and recited his humorous Lines Written at Bangalore:
‘Auto-rickshaws scuttle round, Black, crazy beetles, in and out,Rubber squeeze-horns honking honking,Motor-cycles swarm in hundreds,Buzzing round like fiery wasps.
Lovely ladies riding solo,In saris bright, with silk scarves streaming.
Bikes and rickshaws driving offside,Swerve and jostle, miss the potholes. People crossing missed by inches,All ignoring zebra crossings.’
“Perhaps we should do some grammar to earn your teachers’ approval,” remarked John, with a mischievous glance. “What happens when you use the indefinite instead of the definite article?” He went on to write a poem on the blackboard...
‘Today is passing out parade. Police cadets are slashing the grass. The gate’s bedecked with banana fronds, The president’s due as honoured guest.
The mess is ready, the tables set. Above the entrance a banner proclaims, Your excellency’s welcome to a mess.’