My early Impressions of Warananagar:

By Abhay Bindumadhav Joshi

There are magical words in everybody's life. Words that evoke deep emotion, fond memories, a sense of longing. For me "Warananagar" is one such word. That word awakens me from the slumber of my dull routine, it gives me an injection of fresh confidence; it reminds me of my roots, the very foundation on which I stand today. Warananagar is a small town in South Maharashtra - one of many townships that sprung about during the co-operative sugar factory movement of the 1970s. That it was an experiment in creating a farmers-owned sugar factory was in itself revolutionary. What made it a magical place for me was a whole slew of other things on top it.

I landed in Warananagar at the age of 9 years. I still vividly remember that day. We traveled by bus from Mumbai and reached Warananagar after a long overnight journey of 12 hours and the bus stopped in Warananagar at about 11am. When we got out we realized we had stopped right in front of a school. There were a few hundred boys and girls standing in front of a building in neat lines facing the school. They were apparently saying the morning prayer and the school was just about to begin after that. Some of them looked around to steal a look at 'who on earth had arrived' by this bus. I think my mother said - Abhay, that might be your school. I stared blankly at that building and the gathering and wondered how it would be.

The walk from the bus-stop to where we were staying was a pleasant surprise. It was a beautiful tree-lined divided street with neatly built houses on both sides. The town was extremely quiet and clean. The breeze was cool and refreshing. I was won over by this place on the very first day. I was ready for this big change in my life - a new town, new school, new teachers, and new friends hopefully.

A still bigger change was to occur for me, for all of us in the school. One day, a few months after my arrival, the entire school was herded to the nearby Shastri Hall and we were made to sit in long lines - one for every class. We had heard rumors that there was to be a new school principal and he wanted to meet us. So, we sat there watching the stage expecting some action there - introductions and speeches. Instead, to our surprise, we saw a handsome, fair looking, and well-dressed man walking down each line talking to each student. Very soon he reached me and asked me my name etc. We were all completely flabbergasted by this unexpected face to face dialog with the new principal. He looked too handsome, too nice, too foreign to talk to us small town boys and girls with such interest. It seemed like a revolution. And it indeed was.

For me, what followed was 5 years of an incredible schooling experience. The new principal was Sam Mahableshwerwalla - we all came to know him simply as "Praachaarya" - pronounced pra (as in Prague) - char (as in charcoal) - ya (like 'yeah'), meaning "the chief teacher". The word "Praachaarya" became a loaded word in Warananagar. It became a proper noun. Since I had already undertaken a few big changes recently, the changes that were brought about Praachaarya were simply a continuation. For some other students who had been around, these changes must have been a radical experience.