A 'kut' above
This English ‘sir’, Mr. Perry, he really was something. Reedy thin, thinner string tie – he literally appeared to be dangling in the air with aid of that tie. Unimpressive and pedestrian in every sphere, except in the classroom where, during his hour, he would metamorphose into another, a magnetic, miraculously effective, mesmerizing teacher. He was in is elements, reading out passages from Shakespeare. So dramatic, he often forget himself and us, playing the roles of Brutus or Anthony, even as he read out thunderously loud from the textbooks.
“let loose the dogs of war….crying havoc…” with that, he would toss the book he was reading with such devastatingly stunning effect, we boys wondered what or who he really was.
Outside the classroom, he was just an ordinary guy, back to his mundane avatar of the common man. The only thing we all knew was he never ate lunch: during the recess for luncheon, he would wander round the corridors, his gaze with a faraway glassy stare. Robotic. What he survived on, a nosy smart aleck found, was a peculiarly odd sweetmeat of old Madras
Perry relished kamarkuts, and he was eternally suckling one in his mouth, twisting it this way and that, rolling it about. Now kamarakuts, to the unwary, are mighty hard to bite – so steely and so pasty, that when one's bit, it had the habit of sticking to the teeth of the upper or lower jaw. It is next to impossible to dislodge the stuck k-kuts, for once it establishes its mooring, it stays anchored. For good.
Perry relished kamarkuts, and he was eternally suckling one in his mouth, twisting it this way and that, rolling it about. Now kamarakuts, to the unwary, are mighty hard to bite – so steely and so pasty, that when one's bit, it had the habit of sticking to the teeth of the upper or lower jaw. It is next to impossible to dislodge the stuck k-kuts, for once it establishes its mooring, it stays anchored. For good.
The Anglo Indian school I studed in, had a majority of kids, all of that descent, whose only aim and ambition in life was to become a Railway steam engine driver and after their service on the rail, retire to Guntakal Junction or Jolarpet. They had fancy and impressive names, Leslie Chattelier, Fletcher, Blake – Gerald Holding and other such. Now these boys too loved kamarkuts, and much to my mother’s amusement and amazement, I used to tote a bagfull of ‘kuts’ to school and pass them around. Every boy worth his boyhood was high on kuts, which they, in their odd lingo, re-christened ‘stick-jaws’.
Perry, on a dramatic high on one of Tempest’s emotional parts, spied everyone lolling stick-jaws with delight in the class, and promptly put aside his text, demanding to know what it was the boys were chewing with such divine glee on their faces. He boomed, I will not tolerate chewing gum here, ruminants such as buffalos chew cud, human’s don’t –
and Blake when you chew gum you are only confirming an atavistic hangover of your asinine ancestry.
Go spit that sick gum out, he barked.
No gum sir, it is stick jaws, Blake replies, spitting the marble of goo into his palm for proof.
Perry’s jaws dropped. Was this real? The original , the kamarkut. His ambrosia, his manna..... aaah
Where did you get this kut from Blake?
Kumar’s mum sent it for us sir, Blake says, pointing to a quivering me.
Meet me in the staff room, Kumar. A, Perry commands
I stood shivering when Perry lowered his voice, leaned over, and said 'Kumar. A, can you tell your mumma to pack some stick-jaws for me?’
Amma was thrilled. She prepared a good pound and eight ounces of the most aromatic kamarkuts (it was the FPS system back then) exclusively for Perry’s consumption. For good measure, the request being from a teacher, she added more ‘dhum’ and ‘dynamite’ to the stew, which she stirred on a large wrought iron bandli, till she produced the stickiest kut that ever was made by hand.
While Perry immensely enjoyed and relished the stuff – the only problem he faced was an odd, but not an unexpected one, for in amidst his periodic dramatic adrenaline rushes – he often bit accidentally into that sticky kut – the masseteric squash into the pulp of the jaggery derivative, sealed his jaws. Brggrr. oh, ugh, er… choke, gloo, glue, glum, gum…he would sputter on guttural cords ---- till , out of sheer desperation, he left the classroom to digitally evict the intra-oral inter dental intruder.
Note: It is on record that in the finals of the Madras State Anglo Indian High School Leaving Certificate Examination of 1965, one Kumar. A of St. Bede’s High School, San Thome, Madras, was awarded the first prize in English, but was also presented a special prize for proficiency in Advanced English – instituted by one Mr. Clifford Perry. Boy!!! amma’s kamarkuts sure took me places.
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