Like many others I learned English alphabet in the 5th standard. So, being transplanted from a Malayalam medium school to Loyola in the 7th standard was akin to a fish being placed on terra firma: I must have gasped for words, if not for breath.

Luckily for me - and many others like me - there was Fr.Stanford, the then Principal. This Canadian priest took upon himself the task of teaching us spoken English. He would take us to the terrace of his residence in the evenings and with the help of gramophone records try to teach us the correct way to speak the language.

It was indeed a welcome gesture from the Father, who left the school soon thereafter. And I too forgot all about his kind act towards students like me.

My felicity with words is nothing significant to write home about. However, a couple of years ago I wondered about the persons I should be grateful to, for inculcating in me a love of the language and for providing a working knowledge in it.

It was then that I remembered Fr.Stanford. So during 'Karkataka Vavu'- the day one observes the rituals to pay homage to departed souls - his kind deed used to come up in my mind. It is not that I was unaware of the irony of a Hindu ritual for a departed Christian priest. More embarrassing was my confusion whether he was alive or not.

So one day I met Fr.C.P.Varkey, who now resides at Kozhikode. In the course of the conversation I asked him casually about Fr.Stanford. It was informed that he had returned to Darjeeling and is now no more.

Today I remember him again. The closest I came to gurukula education of yore was perhaps when I sat cross-legged opposite Fr.Stanford under the canopy of the sky to learn a foreign language. I am now in a better position to appreciate his compassion and patience.

May his Soul rest in Peace. Aum Shanti, Shanti, Shantihi.