Shorthand that slipped away

I studied at a high school that, although not cosmopolitan in the modern sense, was heterogeneous, typical of the kind found in coastal towns during the mid-1970s. Students like me had ample opportunities to learn languages. However, the elders at my home thought that English was a foreign language, far beyond my grasp, and that I would never acquire writing and speaking skills. They suggested that I enrol in a typing institute that also conducted shorthand classes in English. The idea was not only to acquire typing skills but also, more importantly, to mingle with others and improve my English speaking skills.

The idea was marvelous. The institute's classes were held three days a week, including Sunday mornings. Initially, they assessed my writing skills, which, I must admit, were quite ugly at the time. Next, they provided me with printed sheets containing signs for each alphabet or group of alphabets. Meanwhile, I made slow progress in my typing classes. After a couple of days, I was asked to buy Isaac Pitman's Shorthand. At the time, I referred to it as a dictionary. 

There were only a few book shops in Mangalore back then and none of them had a copy of the book on their shelves. I was then advised to search for the book on the pavements of Avenue Road in Bangalore (now Bengaluru). During the ensuing summer holidays, my visit to Bengaluru proved fruitful. One fine morning – Bengaluru was indeed a fine city back then –- I left Cottonpet, walked through Old Taluk Cutcheri Road, and reached Avenue Road. To my delight, I found a copy of the book amidst a heap of old Reader's Digest issues. I also treated myself to crispy bonda in front of the Church of South India, which I thoroughly enjoyed as it had started drizzling.

Back in my coastal town, I walked proudly, carrying the book with me. I was over the moon, on top of the world! Along with the book,  I carried a Nataraj pencil, an eraser, and a Topaz blade. An elderly akka at the institute presented me with a notebook and wished me good luck. Everyone in the class was friendly, except for the teacher. The lead of my pencil broke frequently, almost on every second line. Despite this, I made some progress, albeit slow. I did face several embarrassing situations, some of which were due to my own carelessness and happy-go-lucky attitude but the classes went on. 

One rainy day, while getting off the Patla bus (Route No 5), I forgot my copy of 'Isaac Pitman' on the bus. This marked the abrupt end of my endeavour to learn shorthand.