School on silent mode

As Easter approaches, I am vividly reminded of the annual pre-Easter retreat that we Catholic boarders were required to attend in a residential school run by Jesuits in Tiruchi way back in the 1950s. In those days, a retreat implied, among other things, the strict observance of silence.

Starting on Maundy Thursday and extending till daybreak on Easter, all boarders went silent quite literally for no less than three days—something we boys considered impossible! Keeping quiet and not uttering a word was quite an ordeal for youngsters used to talking nineteen to the dozen. However, the stern and forbidding prefect ensured strict compliance.

Limited pantomime, or sign language, was permitted. However, boys being boys, it sometimes led to hilarious situations. For instance, at mealtimes, if one gestured for a second helping of rice, the dish of vegetable curry would be perversely thrust towards one, and vice versa. Or if one motioned for the pitcher of water, the bowl of ‘rasam’ would be deliberately passed to one. Grace, of course, was said aloud before and after meals, the only other sound being the clatter of spoons and forks.

To minimise talking, written requests were also allowed, especially where sign language could be misinterpreted or, worse, lead to vulgarity. Once a boarder presented a slip of paper to the prefect, on which was scrawled, “Father, there’s no toilet paper in the loo.” In spite of himself, the hard-boiled prefect broke into a grin, perhaps imagining how this would be conveyed in pantomime!

Interestingly, our daily one-hour stint of games in the evening continued unaffected. We played hockey, football, and volleyball in unaccustomed silence, of course, scrupulously refraining from swearing or exclamations. The referee, for his part, restricted his role exclusively to the use of a whistle and gestures alone. Unbelievably, not a word was exchanged during games, making us look as though we had been struck dumb!

The three-day retreat was mostly spent in prayer, meditation, attending church services, and reading religious literature, with the vigilant prefect hovering around to enforce a semblance of piety and ensure silence. Needless to say, most of us found the rigours of this short spell of monastic life quite trying, especially the strict clampdown on talking. For overly garrulous boys, our vocal chords must have been truly thankful for the three-day respite!

On Easter morning, we were up at the crack of dawn, chatting for all we were worth to make up for the preceding 72 hours of enforced silence—the main topic of discussion being the lavish Easter fare that awaited us for breakfast and lunch after three days of truly frugal meals!