The high-ceilinged room with large, imposing windows framed in mahogany wood was a daunting setting for a 10-year-old, sitting alone on one of the wooden desks, taking her entrance test for one the most prestigious schools in Pakistan. At the time, my only concern was to finish the questionnaire in front of me and run out of the room which seemed to have an eerie atmosphere, as if ghosts of students past were mocking my attempt at joining their hallowed ranks.

When the teacher came for the third time to check on my progress, I knew I had taken longer than was normal.

After a shamefully lengthy period when I timidly handed over my paper to Ms Billimoria, the headmistress of the primary section at the time, I felt like an imposter vying for a position for which I was not worthy. While Ms Billimoria had kind, twinkly eyes, I remember her giving me a deep look and saying, “You took your time, child!”

On the occasion of the institution’s centenary, a former student remembers the glorious times spent at Mama Parsi School

In tears on the way back, I told my dad that I never wanted to go to that yellow building again. He, being a parent of the past century, curtly replied, “You make so many careless mistakes in mathematics, you must have done poorly. Now pray that they consider your language skills more when judging your test because entry to Mama Parsi School will be the making of you!”

The blessings of Zarathushtra were probably roaming at large through that majestic edifice that day, for fortune smiled on me, and my parents were called a week later to finish the admission process.

The original yellow limestone building, as it stands today, held its first classes in April 1925, following a steadfast struggle undertaken by its forefathers — Khan Bahadur Ardeshir H. Mama, Nowroji Nusserwanji Pochaji and Seth Eduljee Dinshaw — who invested their time, money and hard work into laying the school’s foundation. A dedicated building for Parsi girls’ education was a dream of these visionary Parsi leaders of the 1900s whose proposals were rejected several times because the Parsi boys’ school — BVS (Bai Virbaijee Soparivala) — took precedence where funds and other resources were concerned.

Mama Parsi Girls School’s 100 years officially began when the perseverance of Jamshed Nusserwanjee Mehta — the first elected mayor of Karachi — was finally rewarded and the school was established in 1918 in a portion of the BVS.

It was the early 1970s when I started at Mama Parsi. At the time, it was the local answer to the finishing schools of the West, as education at Mama School was not restricted to class courses. It was a holistic approach which included instruction in manners and comportment; music and ballet; cooking and laundry; art and needlework, and also competitive sports.

Like most schools of the subcontinent, Mama School was also modelled on the British school system and placed students into ‘Houses’. The four houses were named after its benefactors — Dinshaw (green), Mama (blue), Pochaji (yellow) and Contractor (red).

Giving students ‘minus marks’ was yet another legacy adopted from the British school system (now made glamorous by the fictional characters of the Hogwarts School). Minus marks could be ‘earned’ in several ways and the most ‘popular’ offences were — for not putting black ribbons on ponytail bands; for making long ponytails, if short braids could be made; for having long nails; for shoes not being polished; for wearing moccasins when there was no games period; for wearing a watch with a gold or silver strap (anything other than black or brown was not allowed); for wearing any jewellery other than small-sized, round balis; and, last but not the least, for applying mehndi.

While these were the general occasions where minus marks were bestowed on students liberally, other miscellaneous errant behaviour could also put a few extra minuses on our pocket — i.e. the report card. If a student was found loitering in the corridor and they had the misfortune to hear three ominous claps from behind, it was a sign that the principal — the formidable Ms Contractor — had seen you and minus marks would follow.

Then, of course, there was dear Ms Gamwallah, our Pakistan Studies teacher, who sprinkled minus marks like confetti almost every day because that’s how frequently the girls were found napping! Mrs Moiz, our English teacher was probably our most liked faculty member for the opposite reason. She very rarely resorted to minus marks, and also was the first teacher to begin school excursions within Pakistan and, subsequently, to international destinations.

House tests determined who won the trophy on the annual prize distribution day, prompting students to work hard the year round. It was every student’s aspiration to be amongst the honoured students who would be receiving a certificate acknowledging their excellence either in a subject or in an extracurricular activity on the prize distribution day.

It is difficult to capture memories on a page here. Many are foggy and some we paint in hindsight, making them look much brighter and cheerful then perhaps they actually were.

Similarly, on sports day, all houses flexed their muscles, some on the field, and others from the stands, cheering their house-fellows to make it to the finish line. Sporting events at Mama Parsi School included long jump, high jump and javelin throw, and the school subsequently produced some great women athletes who went on to compete at the national level.

It is difficult to capture memories on a page here. Many are foggy and some we paint in hindsight, making them look much brighter and cheerful then perhaps they actually were. Ms Mavalwalla, our English teacher, was the strictest teacher and hearing her voice in the distance would make our blood freeze. Today, however, I only have fond memories of her as she taught me my favourite subject — English.

I clearly remember what, without a doubt, was the most dreaded day of the year — the day on which a surprise cleanliness test was announced! Looking back, I can’t say how fitting it was to violate the children’s privacy and check girls’ hair, collar and socks and then shame the students who had lice in their hair by publicly awarding them a zero out of 25. Unseemly, perhaps, but it sure did give us an understanding of the importance of cleanliness! The one unforgettably frightful time for me was when I burnt the aaloo gosht curry in my grade VIII cooking exam. If it hadn’t been for my friend in the cooking station behind me, who poured some of her well-cooked saalan into my pot, I would have definitely failed that exam.

Laundry classes were actually the most enjoyable, and no, it did not just entail washing clothes with a liberal dose of detergent. It actually included brass and silver polishing, where we learnt tricks of the trade such as what ingredients work best to remove old stains from silver or brass, or how to remove grease stains from clothes. And nobody scoffed at the ‘dirty work’ or ‘menial jobs’ taught to us.

It wasn’t just these domestic arts that were a focus of the girls’ education at Mama Parsi School. Playing for the school band, participating in the sports day march-past, where the slightest of imprecision in step could make you lose your coveted place, earning the blue-bird badge and the girl-guide training and being picked as a cadet of the St John’s ambulance (my personal ambition) — were additional schooling tools for personality building.

Not knowing what a computer was, let alone what Google search could ever do, did nothing to diminish the height of success for students of the last century. The core curriculum additionally ingrained lessons of humility, acceptance and equality within us. It was not until much after finishing school that I realised that one of my classfellows belonged to the richest Parsi families in Karachi and one of them hailed from the most humble residential area, belonging to a modest Marwari family. The beauty of it was that they were fast friends and their respective ‘origins’ were never part of the conversation.

Even now when our class of ’82 meets, there is no hint of class consciousness, ethnic discomfort or religious difference. The early lessons of acceptance taught each morning have been learnt well. Under one roof, observing Parsi prayers for the Zoroastrian girls was as natural as was reciting Islamic ayats for Muslim girls.

I can go on citing reason upon reason for why the Mama Parsi Girls School has earned such a distinctive position among Karachi’s educational institutes. In truth, I think it is the basic moral principles upon which its foundations were laid that it stands apart from the rest. Those same principles which are reflected in the school motto and which are inculcated in every student from the moment they enter the imposing building — “Let humility, charity, faith and labour light our path.”

maheenrashdi@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, April 22nd, 2018