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I met Mr. CJ Miller during mid-term, cirri 1995, end of football season, which meant that the ghastly rains in Dehra Dun (a climate that I found most disagreeable all through my tenure at the Doon) were over. Midterms in the autumn term were a turn around time; I was to discover later. Certainly the more preferred term, since parents could visit legitimately (for founders) and since there was always winter to look forward to. Also, for some, a term to sport smart games and scholars blazers and for the not-so-sporty-brainy to wear the woolen blazer and tie (that we all thought looked rather sharp). Autumn term was always rather spectacular.
However, as I found later, 1985 was a very special year. Golden Jubilee fever had the school in a frenzy of activity. Gulab Ramchandani was at the helm, setting up committees to oversee the minutest details of celebrations to which no less a dignitary than Rajiv Gandhi was expected. Besides the extra security arrangements (including nametags, identification and a 'check in' for parents and old boys) there were two school plays. ‘The Merchant of Venice’ starring Ashwin Bulchandani as Shylock, Ajoy Mehtab, school captain (who made a particular impression on me for eating, nonchalantly, a banana as he introduced the play - a cool thing I thought as a D former) Nikhil Deogan as one of the main characters I forget which; but most of all the unforgettable Portia played by Kim (Chandrajit Singh I think) made a convincing case for a woman who’s supposed to be a man. And a home grown concoction that went by the name of Doscoyefski (and I am not sure if it was spelt quite like that) aided by the talents of Ratna Patak Shah - who must go down in the annals of The Doon School to have been the most prolonged and collective fantasy (rehearsals went on for about four months) of a 600 strong bunch of adolescent males. This team fed on the history of the Doon School, no doubt narrated zealously by nostalgic ex-doscos as it was a virtual tour (put to music) across fifty years of anecdotes and events geared to jerk every tear out of every eye of every dosco gathered for its two or three repeat performances (to full capacity - we, as current doscos, were asked to leave to make room). In retrospect, I am surprised that the wives weren't ask to leave as well - after all, what the hell were they going to make of Gurdial Singh and his birds or hockey stick or whatever the lore was.
Golden Jubilee was a wonderful time. I had joined school only earlier that year (in April, on April fools day - and I've always wondered at the significance of that) and was particularly home sick. The bee hive of activity that surrounded me was a distraction as I went about collecting frogs for the Bio lab or making my dry fruit dish (as Pundir - carpentry shop - christened a totally non usable block of wood the size of a brick with a shallow cavity supposedly to put your mothers caju or pista or badam or whatever she could find that fit). I remember one adventurous lot tried to build a microlite air-craft that was actually supposed to fly as Rajiv was inspecting the exhibition - "...spirit of inquiry of the boys, and all that sort of thing y'know...". Notwithstanding the security hazard that a flying object of dubious manufacturing credentials (our metal works shop, with some assistance from the carpentry shop - seat, pedals, handlebars and so on) propelled by Bond’s old scooter engine might pose for the Prime Minister, certain parties were concerned of the embarrassment that may be caused should the damn thing choose not to perform at the appropriate time. Gulab, though, was dead keen on the idea. He rushed around with this committee of senior staff and army of school captains and house captains and prefects, having imposed military (corporate) rule in school, which meant that classes, for the week before Golden Jubilee, were suspended. The microlite flight was to be the cherry on his Golden Jubilee cake. "….how delighted the ex-dosco community would be, and how much money they may - on impulse, direct to the badly crippled school swimming pool project..". To everyone’s great relief (except my D form batch who thought the idea of a microlite crash would be one of the high points of Golden Jubilee) the kite didn't work and was dismembered in subsequent years; its parts put to use in several electric heaters and hideous candle stands that D formers were obliged to churn out for unsuspecting mothers who were obliged, in turn, to take pride in their son's skill and find a fitting mantelpiece to lodge the creation.
It was in this atmosphere, as the school was in the throes of communal preparation, that John Miller and I met, quite by chance, over midterms. Like all D formers (and now E formers), I was in holding house, Martin house, the lord and master of which was one Ominder Singh (a.k.a Omi) and his consort Mrs. Ominder Singh (or Omini). My very first midterms in school (that of the spring term) was scarred by a pointedly unimaginative itinerary that included all the tirith sthanns that the bus driver could possibly touch in five days of relentless driving. Omi’s idea of a day out was to hit every neon-coloured temple between Haridwar and Musourie on buns and butter, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Certainly didn’t endorse the sales pitch about going off to the mountains for five days camping, trekking, adventure, wild-life et al.
So when I got the opportunity to jump ship, the savior being a young recruit by the name of Phillip Burret having taken up appointment only recently as the second tutor of Martyn House, I leapt willingly. Along with this new tutor given charge of about thirty twelve-year-old kids, came a low-profile and elderly English gentleman, CJ Miller or CJM who was quite bemused by all the rushing around everyone was doing.
CJM came back to the school for a term (or so, I think) to teach Physics and I believe he took some classes with our D3 for Sciences or Mathematics but I can’t imagine what he must have taught us as we didn’t have physics till we got to C or B forms.
I remember heaving a sigh of relief as Omi’s party pulled out of Martyn house; off to cover the temples he had left out of his previous outing. We piled into the bus and heading out for wherever we were to go (again I can’t remember). What I do remember, however, is that once we got there, we found that we couldn’t stay there and so had to come right back to spend the first night of my second mid-term in Martyn House. PBR had goofed big-time. On the way back, I was sitting next to him and as I fantasized of lofty mountains and green valleys teaming with chital, sambar and a tiger or two for good measure, he found me glaring at him and returned a sheepish half smile. PBR was not cracking the popularity charts just then. Since then of course we all have got to know Phillip Burrett very well and I am proud to say that I knew him when I did. In my opinion, he is everything that a schoolmaster of the Doon School should be, the school is fortunate to still have his breed around.
Finally, we did make a mid-term of it, we found ourselves in Ponta Sahib playing cricket under some circuit house or rest house. Abhinav Kumar and CJM hit it off well, they found chess partners in each other. Abhinav was an extremely good chess player and worthy sparring partner for CJM. Long after the ponta mid-term, Abhinav could be seen entering CJM’s house (I believe it was the small block of flats between Foot house and Bond’s house) after or during games time and they would play chess till dinner. We put up a skit for Mr. Miller on the last night of our Ponta adventure, where I remember Rahul Verma played the part of Mr. Miller’s wife (she-millie or something like that) while I took the part of the man himself. Now, Rahul stood a good three inches above me then (as he probably does now) and it all made for a moment of bad slapstick humor. I remember him cooing seductively "…millie…oh !….millie darling….". The story of the skit was based on different events in CJMs life not the least, becoming the headmaster of the Doon School. CJM had great fun, as did PBR and Mrs. Burrett and all of us.
The association between Abhinav and CJM continued beyond Martyn House and D form. After ICSE in A form (some three years later), Abhinav was chosen to represent Doon at Charter house as an exchange student. Because of his brilliant academic performance during the time that he was there, Charter House gave him a promotion and a scholarship for one year, which is what it took him to graduate with straight As in his A-levels. Abhinav and CJM met up in England and from what I remember, CJM was his local guardian, providing for him where he could.
My other memory of CJM is as Master of Ceremonies at the Gombar Speech Content when Ashwin Bulchandani send a note saying that he couldn’t speak as he had lost his voice. CJM informed the audience "…Ashwin Bulchandani has lost his voice and will address the house when he finds it.."
These are my assorted memories of CJM and the time that he came to school to teach and visit in 1995. I would check to records to see if he indeed stayed for the full year, till 1996. I hope they are helpful as you
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