The Chinar 2014

Pagal Gymkhana Edition 2014

Pagal Gymkhana 2014

From the Boys of Kashmir House To all the well-wishers who have walked with us through thick and thin.

May the leaves never crumple.

EDITORIAL When I first walked past the Main Gate of the Doon School as a seven year old, I was daunted by the magnificence of each and every structure – pervasively spread around the green haven. The Doon School was a maze to me; one that I just could not figure out. At the heart of this maze however, was Kashmir House. As convoluted as the map of Doon was, I somehow found my way to Kashmir House every single time. Putting all superstition aside, I felt a bond with the house – perhaps because of all the stories I had heard from my father or because it was just there. In any case, a decade from that day, that very bond has grown stronger. What I know for a fact though, is that this bond is not exclusively mine. It belongs to all those boys and girls who spent a memorable six years of their lives at Kashmir House. This issue of The Chinar is a tribute to that bond.

Innumerable hours of hard-work have been put in to compile a book that sets out to capture Kashmir through the ages. A question that I often ask myself when I think about all that the The Chinar should be is what is Kashmir House’s story? While it is true that trophies have been won and heights achieved, that to me is not a story to be told and retold several times. It is the warmth we feel when we walk through the corridors. It is the happiness we see on every student’s face. It is the House we live in for years on end. The story cannot be put into words. It can only be felt. It is this feeling that we hope to evoke through the pages of The Chinar.

The Chinar is a tribute to the Kashmir House-spirit. All the moments captured in this issue of The Chinar testify to the zeal and commitment which each one of us students offered to the House unconditionally in our time here. However, to prepare this issue, what I needed as the editorin-chief was a team that willingly offered itself to profuse hard-work and struggle. The Board of The Chinar, which comprises of students of The Doon School - a school where we do not have time to find time – spent days and nights preparing this issue. With all the hurdles that came our way, we

managed to produce the best that we could with the resources we had at our disposal. From where I see it, that shows zeal and commitment in its purest form. The effort alone is the biggest tribute to the House and its spirit. For this, I commend the board that worked hard despite the paucity of time, and inspired me greatly.

It is also my prerogative to thank all those who contributed to The Chinar in some way or the other. The time put in and enthusiasm shown by those who might not live here with us, but are still a part of the House at its very heart, motivated us to work harder and better. It was a pleasure working for those people who still hold Kashmir House ever-so-close to their hearts.

The sight of the Main Field from the House is majestic, to say the least.

However, the sight of the House from the Main Field is notches higher.

Walking out of the House is routine in so many ways. However, walking into the House, while as routine if not more, feels like coming back home every single time. Kicking footballs into nets is a tremendous feeling. However, the celebration that follows every goal scored past a towel rack in the quadrangle speaks for itself. Just for a while, forget life as it is. Recollect all the stories told, all the joy felt and all the times spent at Kashmir. It will bring a smile upon your face like no other. Welcome to Kashmir House!

Devesh Sahai Editor-in-Chief, The Chinar ‘14

A

s I pen down my thoughts for another issue of this publication, the Chinar trees behind Kashmir House are changing colour, marking the departure of spring and the arrival of autumn. Yet another term, yet another year and yet another Founders. In the midst of this unchanging yet so dear cycle, there are special events and moments that we celebrate, and this year it’s the Pagal Gymkhana for us.

Ever since I joined Doon, I have been a part of Kashmir House, and the last time the House celebrated Pagal Gymkhana, I was Assistant Housemaster. While my entire tenure as Tutor, Assistant Housemaster and now Housemaster is filled with memories that I will cherish forever, there have been certain celebrations in my time as Housemaster that are unique: celebrating 75 years of the House in 2012, preparing for the Pagal Gymkhana through 2014, are some such events. These have brought me closer to the family that is Kashmir House, a family comprising boys, masters, Old Boys and parents. As part of this cohesive and caring family, I can say with great pride that the boys of the house have always lived up to the epithet, “The House of Gentlemen”, and continue to do so. I am humbled and grateful to them for that.

Life in School is constantly changing and one cannot but agree that academic demands today are much greater and pose more challenging than what it was in the past. However, the core principle of Doon School education remains unchanged. That principle and vision echoes Swami Vivekananda’s views on education almost exactly: “What is education? Is it book learning? No. Is it diverse knowledge? Not even that. The training, by which the current and expression of will are brought under control and become fruitful, is called education.” The boys of the House are constantly scaling greater heights even during my time here, and this is borne out by our boys bagging great university placements globally, as they leave us to pursue their higher education. Having attained such heights, we must realize that we cannot remain content and rest on our laurels. In fact, living up to the very high benchmark set by boys in the past and preserving the great reputation is our duty to our House and all Old Boys who have

worked hard to put the House where it is today. As the Headmaster pointed out during Assembly at the beginning of term, Imagination, Persistence, Collaboration, Creativity and Discipline are some of the qualities that has to be cultivated by every Dosco, and in the House, we must constantly reiterate the need to do so.

As with every other House, there are ups and downs that Kashmir House has gone through. These are difficult periods and I am happy that I was able to see the House through such transitions. It is a tough job, and I must compliment the boys for never letting their shoulders droop and for always keeping their chins up.

Over the years, facilities in the House have been upgraded and the latest addition is our Trophy Cabinet. It was worthwhile getting the cabinet set up, since this year the House went on to win quite a few trophies, thanks to the excellent teamwork and innovative leadership on the part of the boys. Having said that, I would like to remind the boys it is more important that we take pride in having played fair and square rather than on winning at all costs. Besides, we must remember that there is no shame in coming second, for it is only when you come second that you value all that coming first is about.

I would now like to make a few observations for my boys in the House.

Doon has been a trendsetter amongst Schools in leading adventure activities. Although the boys of Kashmir House have taken great initiative in these activities, in recent times the enthusiasm seems to have somewhat dipped. We must once again take up the challenge and push our limits by participating in more of these adventure activities. But conquering our fears and stretching our limits should not be limited to our physical growth; our minds are who we are, and we must stretch our limits and break all barriers to be who we are meant to be. In this context, I would like to share with you the inspiring story of Maryam Mirzakhani. Mirzakhani is the first Iranian and the first woman mathematician to win the coveted Fields Award in Mathematics. Delving deep into the geometry of order, she has shown tremendous courage in overcoming odds. Having survived

a traumatic accident – where many of Iran’s mathematical elite and her close associates lost their lives, she fought prejudice against women both in her home country as well as in academia, and went on to prove herself. A perfect example of what human perseverance and determination can do, her story will hopefully inspire our youth in Kashmir House.

This write-up would remain incomplete if I do not thank some of those who have played a crucial role in taking Kashmir House ahead over the past few years. I would therefore like to take this opportunity to thank Anmol Jain and his team for cheerfully shouldering the responsibility of leading and coordinating the programme for this year’s Pagal Gymkhana. This has been especially challenging since our endeavour has been to move away from high voltage programmes and make this a simple, warm-hearted ‘Coming Back Home’ affair. We hope everyone will be able to enjoy the simple pleasures of being part of a large, caring family that is the Kashmir House. I would also like to extend my heartfelt gratitude to my colleagues from other Houses who have been gracious enough to take time out to lend their support and expertise in organizing the Gymkhana. Thanks are also due to Mr Pant and Mrs Sandhu, as well as to the Prefects for their colossal efforts and the unflinching support that I receive from each one of them, all the time. I would also like to put on record my sincere thanks to all the tutors whose special care for the boys in the House makes such a difference to their lives! I would also like to thank Mr Mehrotra who has been my companion in walking along the difficult patches that Kashmir House has been through, and helped in giving shape to the happy and focused House that it is today. I also extend my appreciation for Dr Shukla who has mentored me throughout, both as a senior and as my Housemaster. I would like also to thank Devesh Sahai, Ritvik Kar and the rest of the editorial team for the hard work that went into making this special coffee table book amidst the demands of a hectic Dosco schedule. Finally, a big thank you to each and every boy in the House who add their special flavour and enhance the diversity while upholding the unity of the House.

Mr Anjan Chaudhary House Master Kashmir House

T

he first publication that I was introduced to on joining School was The Chinar. A simple twelve paged publication, simple design, Kashmir House on the cover and essentially a catalogue for the activities that had taken place over the course of the term. The next time I interacted with this publication was in my A Form.

The Chinar 2012, a fifty-two paged publication, a much more comprehensive design, making every page tell its story, and a catalogue for the stories of old boys and present boys to actually defined what Kashmir House stood for. This happen over the span of just two years.

As someone who has been involved in all aspects of this publication, writing, editing, design and producing, I have see the publication not only grow in size but also in depth. The concept of this publication ceases to be a mere ‘catalogue‘. The Chinar now stands for much more. By encompassing articles written by boys across all batches on issues they feel most important, this publication encompasses the finer details of Kashmir House. Without knowing what we were actually doing in the larger scheme of things, we have made The Chinar a reflection of the people living in it. By allowing this publication to encompass much more that House reports and giving specific emphasis on quality, The Chinar has now become much more that it ever intended to be.

What makes this publication special though, is actually Kashmir House. I do not say boys because we’ve covered much more than that. The Chinar is special due to the collaborative efforts of masters, students and alumni of this House. Every single boy who has walked the corridor of this House can without doubt attribute some part of his personality to it. Every value instilled, every experience embedded deep within our personalities making us excel in various aspects of life.

As I write for the final time for this publication, I can help but end on a sentimental note. This publication has meant a lot for me. Its success, I always considered as my success. The Chinar was actually the platform that I needed to launch myself into so many other publications. It has taught me so much about working as part of a cohesive group and but more importantly, It’s taught me what the core of my House is all about.

The final year of ones School life has many things that one never forgets. The Chinar is one such memory. The Chinar is something I have always been extremely proud to have been a part of. Every page of this publication is meant to remind boys across all age groups, of the House that was home to them for a significant period of their adolescence. The Editorial Board has worked to give you this experience. Every page turned actually represents every turn in the corridors. Every colour representing moods and emotions attached to this House and every word reflecting the values instilled in gentlemen to be associated with this House across the years.

Ritvik Kar Chief-of-Production, The Chinar 2014

The Chinar

A Very Long Association

I

n 1926, my father B S Chengappa, travelled all the way up from Coorg in Southern India, a journey that would have taken him over a week in those days, to the Imperial Forest College and Research Institute in Dehradun, better known to us now as the Chandbagh Estate. He left behind his young family for 18 months while he completed the course and exam to qualify as a Forest Officer in the Service. In his day, the school’s Main Building was the Imperial Forest College and the present Hyderabad and Kashmir houses, the only other buildings on the campus, the residential quarters for the students and others.

Many years later, in 1943, our family travelled up to Dehradun again; this time from even further off – the Andaman Islands, and I was admitted into The Doon School. By then The Doon School had taken over the property of the Forest College as well as Skinners’ Fields. When I entered Kashmir House, my father remarked that he had previously lived there as a student of the Imperial Forest College!

In 1945, on a Kashmir House Golden Night, my father (parents were invited in those days) recalled fond and vivid memories of the Chandbagh estate from his stay, including the trees they had planted and tended and their sojourn at what was now Kashmir House or the Chinar House. He then went on to join other parents in a game of Dumb Charades. I recall that the word they acted out was ‘catastrophe’!

Now that my grandson is in the same House of Gentlemen, a thought occurred to me: my family’s association with Kashmir House started even before it began to be known as such, almost ninety years ago. I am proud to have been part of the Chinar House, which has nurtured many generations of young boys.

I hope it continues to do so far into the future.

Lt. Gen. B.C. Nanda PVSM, AVSM (Retd.) (Class of ’47)

Tales of Tigers

T

ales of tigers - or their variants in the cat family, or otherwise, have always made interesting reading. The prowess of Tiger Woods, in the lap of undulating greens-and beyond it, has delighted the world. Closer home, there was this dashing Tiger Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi, whose grown-up cub is courting his second or third tigress, scorching the silver screen, not so long ago a plaything of our own Welham Girls! Balasaheb Bal Thakrey held sway over Maratha land for decades and now there is a curious struggle on between his descendants to own his stripes. The latest is the one who can be identified with Gir Forest, bearded and all, whose fiefdom has dramatically expanded to pan-India. His wild image was domesticated to some extent by the sophisticated propagation of the ‘Gujrat Ki Khushboo’ by Amitabh. The good old, amiable Amitabh. The ‘Angry Young Man’ of yore. Interestingly, I was initiated to him during my first private / independent mid-term outing in 1977 when, cycling around the Doon, we chanced upon an inauguration ceremony of a cinema-hall in Haridwar, exhibiting ‘Khoon-Pasina’. We some how managed to get ourselves invited to the free show with complimentary laddoos, and had the first look of that lanky tall man with a deep baritone voice, delivering a power-packed performance. In the movie he was called Tiger, and he fought with one. And again with one in Mr. Natwarlal. Jim Corbett fought with many, and became a cult figure by that account alone.

I could not be that brave, sorry to say my dear readers, in my brief, unplanned, unexpected, undesired encounter with the royal beast. There was no room for any bravado either nor any need, as you will just understand. My story goes simply like this: we were a bunch of about five or six boys of Kashmir ‘A’ house, ‘S’ form, out on a cycling trip to Jim Corbett National Park. Having spent the first night at Dhampur in Sherkot House in an eerie, uninhabited-almost haunted fort of Dushyant Singh Rathore (Boozy) - God bless his soul! - we set our feet, or wheels, inside the gates of the reserve forest the next day after noon. This was beyond Ram Nagar, and towards Dhikala which is the human camp at the core of the jungle.

Now, it is one thing to move about in a forest within the protection of a motor vehicle though even that is not entirely without peril-and quite another to do so on pedal bicycles. Moreover, the animals here, unlike at Gir, are not even familiar with, let alone friendly to the tourists. And the setting of this story dates back to 35 odd years ago when the vehicular traffic on road and crazy developments all over were not as much: in effect, the forests were way wilder. But being boys in a group, having been exposed to mountains and nature, courtesy our school, for long, and because of the sense of freedom upon being out of the confines of the boarding campus, our spirits were high and fear was forgotten.

With youthful energy we were pulling ourselves along with our ruck-sack leaden vehicle towards our destination Dhikala, traversing the ups and downs of slopes, bends, river-beds on the unmaintained single track road. Besides the clitter-clatter of our rented cycles, and the normal jungle sound of the cricket, there was nothing to be heard. We could see and feel that we were penetrating deeper and deeper into the jungle, and the intermittent sights of a herd of dear, sudden rush of wild boar, only helped to make the atmosphere interesting and enhance the thrill feel. All signs of the civilization outside had disappeared.

We felt at one with nature, kept pedaling on and on, non-stop, savouring the speed, the whiff of wind on the body, the brush of hanging leaves and creepers on the face, elated at the thought that most of the party was left behind. There are times when I test myself, like on the treks to Vaishno Devi shrine, when I endeavoured to reach the Bhawan without a single pause! This must have been one such time. I soon realized that only Boozy had kept pace with me – where the rest were, only God knew! It was foolhardiness, but I carried on. Perhaps it was our pre-occupation with pedaling mechanically which kept any possible anxiety at bay. Nevertheless, we weren’t so lost, complacent or carefree that we weren’t alert. I remember I had kept my senses on vigil.

Had it not been so, I would have rammed into him! The speeding free-wheels impulsively jammed immediately as I saw him on the road beyond the blind bend - 10 yards away. I was not just watching a Tiger in flesh and blood - I was watching certain death! Blood rushed to my head, I broke into cold sweat, numbness over came me. The impression that I carried of the animal was that of a ruthless feline, and unlike a lion, uncaring, unsparing. Panic-stricken, flabbergasted, not knowing what to do but on an instinct of self-preservation, I at once retracted my steps to the other side of the road-bend where there was no more any eyecontact between us. Yes, the tiger had, crossing the road, looked in our direction, stretched, and the eyes had locked. I had felt vulnerable like a sacrificial goat.

And no, I will not say I was remembering my dear ones in my last moments, or even God, in order to defer those moments - I was simply dreading my violent end which seemed to be coming any moment.

I waited with bated breath. Few moments passed which seemed like ages of agony. I hazily became aware that I was not alone in my despair - Boozy was alongside. In what seemed to be return of some semblance of sanity, I whispered or signaled that we should beat a retreat. To my shock, Boozy asked me to stay still! I thought it was just common-sense to run away from death, or at least try to. He adamantly refrained me from moving. Desperate, I vehemently contested. Upon this he reasoned with me that we should do nothing to startle or excite the animal, and just remain quiet. Being from a royal family, he was perhaps speaking based on his hunting experience. I had no choice but to reconcile, and resigned myself to fate.

A few more moments passed. There was no movement anywhere. Then Boozy suggested we may go ahead with our journey. ‘He’s gone out of his mind,’ I thought, and refused to move. He tried to convince me by suggesting that he will remain ahead. Now, this was on outright dishonorable proposition, quite unacceptable - royal family or no royal family - and aided in provoking me to start our remaining journey afresh. “In my case, there would be as much danger in remaining here as in travelling ahead”, I imagined, and explained to myself. We tip toed to the edge of the road-bend, craned our necks and focused our eyes to see what lay ahead, and finding nothing amiss, we let ourselves go!

Those five kilometers or thereabouts left for Dhikala must have been the fastest distance covered ever. We cycled like our life depended on it. Every movement of any nature - squirrel, lizard, leaf, seemed like the precursor of the leap of the tiger on our backs! We just bolted - slowing only a while to inform an over-taking car to let the authorities know of our plight.

After what seemed to be an endless journey, we were at Dhikala, breathless and boiling, and suddenly relieved to find ourselves alive, after all. And lo and behold! What a reception awaited us! The news of our encounter had reached the camp inhabitants before us, spreading like forest-fire. The place was abuzz with the news, and we become the talk of the mini-town. Actually, the main charm of most visitors to the park is tiger-spotting, and there are some who spend days and weeks together, without success. And here we were, on our very maiden visit, gifted with more than a mere sighting ;that too without the safety of a vehicle, or even an elephant - but on foot! Now we felt like little heroes, answering eager queries and acknowledging envious appreciations!

I have been to Corbett half-a-dozen times more, but never met with the same luck again. But that memory is still vivid - those glowing stripes, confident strides, majestic demeanor, amber looks, piercing eyes... Unlike all the poems I have read of the great poets Browning, Yeats, Frost, Tennyson, Wordsworth, Shelly, Keats, the only one I still remember was the one I read of William Blake in school: ‘Tiger Tiger burning bright, In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye, Could frame they fearful symmetry?’

I believe providence has led me to lead an eventful life, what with my para-military training, Commando Course, expeditions in the desert, rivers and mountains, besides active duties on the Indo-Pak border, and I have had a fair share of anxious moments and close-shaves, I dare say. But it is difficult to recollect any situation other than this when I may have been as frightened or hopeless - in a tailspin, so to say.

I am genuinely grateful to the school for providing for such an experience. Mid-term have been one of the best things happening in school, helping the boys grow by strides, and forming a kaleidoscope of the most sensational childhood memories. Like, getting lost, as puppy ‘C’ formers, in the snow-covered jungleroute to Devvan above Chakrata, preparing to spend the night under the sky by hurriedly and worriedly collecting dry wood, twigs for the bonfire to ward off wild animals and keeping warm - till a woodcutter appeared from nowhere and showed us the way in the dead of the night to the forest rest-house. Or, enroute the trek to Dhanaulti, finding the Chowkidor of Suvakholi guest-house absconding, and having to spend the night on cement bags in the verandah, and finding ourselves all covered by fine cement powder in the morning! Or, spotting a distant cave on the opposite mountain-side from the Camel’s Back Road in Mussoorie, somehow managing to make my way there ( I was hooked on Hardy Boys those days!), entering it amidst a strong stench, and getting startled to find a decomposed human carcass! And the vain attempt for Black Peak base camp, when we found all roads, paths, entire slopes washed away in the wide spread floods of 1978 and I had to trudge along with badly blistered feet. And many more...

But the toast of course goes to the tiger’s tale, and whenever I recount this one, I naturally do so with my tail up!

Mr Manmohan Bhardwaj (ex-755 KA | Class of ‘80)

‘‘Having big bashes and making bigger splashes’ “The Kashmir House Swimming Team of 1953 displayed immense speed and stamina, as it emerged victorious in the competition.”W ????

‘Just did it!’

“The Kashmir House Athletics Team of 1955 could not win the competition despite its efforts. However, the House took pride in its victory in the mighty Pentathlon.”

‘Set the pace, w in “The Kashmir House Athletics Team of 1956 does the House proud as it brings back three trophies to the House.”

the race.’

ce 1958.’

‘Insanity sin ‘The Kashmir House Cross Country Team of 1958 ran the extra mile quite literally to emerge victorious in the Inter-House Competition.’

‘Get on the floor!’

“The Kashmir House PT Squad of 1957 inevitably put up a display of tremendous discipline, as it emerged victorious in the competition.”

‘The after-party!’

“The Kashmir House Senior Hockey Team of 1957 takes a welldeserved break, and a good photograph too!”

‘The House of Trophies’ “The Kashmir House of 1959 - the trophies might be great, but it’s the people who make the House the wonderful place that it is!”

‘Trend-setters’ “The boys of the House assemble for a group shot to commemorate the year of 1960.”

“This simple photograph captures the infallible Dosco bond which we all cherish with all our hearts.”

‘Friends are the family we choose’

‘Is it time for the new uniforms yet?’

‘1962 or 2014 - Doscos always find the time to get together for a nice group photograph’

‘Make it or break it’

“This moment captured in the photograph testifies to the effort put in by the students of the House, as they strive for perfection.”

‘Let Us Be Thankful Already’

“The House welcomed a special guest for dinner way back in 1964.”

‘Before Bolt, there was us’

The Kashmir House Athletics Team of 1967emerged victorious in the senior category of the Inter-House Competition.

‘Stretch it like spandex’

The Kashmir House Junior Gymnastics Team of 1969 put up a good show and brought back the trophy.

‘A game of gentlemen, played by Gentlemen’

The Kashmir House Senior Cricket Team of 1971 emerged victorious in the inter-house competition.

After all, cricket is a game of gentlemen and we are gentlemen.

‘Death Stare!’

The Kashmir House Boxing Team of 1971 got the trophy back to the House.

We know why.

‘Fake to the left, shoot to the right.’

The House Junior Basketball Team of 1971 had a successful competition wherein it emerged victorious.

‘Doscos forever, Brothers for life’

‘This photo shows that it is impossible for a Dosco to forget his experiences at Doon’

‘The ‘German’ team of 1971’

The Kashmir House Senior Football Team won the tournament, in what was clearly a very successful year.

‘It’s always about the Queen.’

The Inter House Chess Team of 1972 emerged as the victors in the competition.

‘One man army.’ Arjun Dua, from the batch of 1974, went for gold and got it, as he won the Sardar Mohammad Individual Tennis Tournament for Seniors.

A good kick out of it.

The Kashmir House Football Team of 1972 emerges victorious in the competition.

‘You just got served.’

The Kashmir House Tennis Team of 1972 emerged victorious in the competition.

The Kashmir House Prefectorial Body of 1973

‘Leadership’ comes with good ‘ties’

‘Lets crack it up.’

The Kashmir House Junior Hockey Team of 1973 did the House proud after a successful tournament where it emerged victorious.

‘Why So Serious’ The Kashmir House Boxing Team of 1974 wins the Inter House Boxing Cup.

‘Say Cheese’

The Kashmir House Prefectorial Body of 1975.

‘Everyone has a plan until they are punched in the face’

The House boxing team of 1976 got the trophy back home.

‘Bulls-eye!’

The Kashmir House Archery Team of 1982

‘Redefining the boundaries.’

The Kashmir House Cricket Team enjoys the aftermath of the competition.

‘The Kashmir Regiment’ Kashmir House marches on during the interhouse Athletics competition.

‘Never leave a friend behind.’

Midterms – truly, for hills to climb!

The students treat themselves to some fun after studying in what seems to be a cold night.

‘Midnight’s students’

‘Run for gold.’

The Kashmir House Cross Country team of 1982 has a successful outing.

‘The Last Stretch’

In the 100 meters Hurdles Race of 1992, Ajay Singh Dev leaves his competition behind.

‘All skills of hand and eye.’ The senior boys of the House in 1993 serve society with clear enthusiasm.

‘The Leap of Faith’ Ajay Singh Dev sets off to win the race.

‘Ahem… ATTENTION!!’

A few members of the Kashmir House PT Squad of 2009 capture the moment leading up to the competition.

‘Are we gonna win this match?!’

The Kashmir House Leagues Cricket Team of 2009 capture their zeal moments before the match.

‘I am colour blind.’ The festival never fails to bring joy to the faces of the boys.

‘The Last Supper’ The SC leavers from the batch of 2010 enjoy their last House Feast.

The mind is in the game and the game is in the mind.

These SCs of 2014 stare at the match with intent and enthusiasm.

‘We have connections everywhere’ Doscos are quick to make friendships and very slow to end them.

‘Escape to victory’ The Kashmir House Hockey House XI of 2014 gave the House a well deserved Hockey House Cup

‘Men in white’ The House XI Team of 2014 had an extremely successful season, with match after match in their stride

With only a few months to go before we D-formers shift to the Kashmir House, questions fill our heads. It is almost impossible to predict the changes our lives are about to accommodate. Nonetheless, despite the distance, we have come to form a close association with Kashmir House and proudly consider it our ‘own’. What does Kashmir House mean to us? It is quite difficult to say, but we know that a blow to the House is a blow to us, and a triumph for the House is a triumph for us.

We had the privilege this year, of watching our seniors play hard, act passionately and dance zealously. We were spectators to most of the brilliant performances put up by the House. However, the House has accepted us with much grace and joy. Therefore, despite our passive participation, we were included in every celebration that followed victory, and there were many. At this early stage of our school-lives, the House has forced us into a relationship that we now cherish, with all our hearts. There is a sense of commitment that is being nurtured within each and every one of us.

Kashmir House is our House, and in that, we take pride.

We all have our visions for the five years ahead. What unites all of them is our desire to represent the House wherever and whenever we can. We all look forward to this journey from passive observers to active contributors.

D Form 2014

Staying in a holding house is an experience to remember, but living in Kashmir House is an experience to cherish. After spending my D-form, and a little of my C-form at the other end of the Main Field, I moved to Kashmir House.

Suddenly, after having the privileges of our first year, we were hauled into the next phase of our time at Doon; C-Form. We still remained in Foot and Martyn houses for the first couple of months. Out of the blue, we developed a sense of loyalty to our holding house. The matches we attended and the meetings we would go to in K House held little meaning to us. The month of February passed by, and through external sources, we had a pretty decent idea of what to expect. Friendly voices and kind gestures were meant to assure us of our fruitful time ahead, but some of us were still uneasy and doubtful about the transition that would take place.

Even the new C-Formers, who had spent barely two months in Foot house had developed a connection as great as ours. Finally, the day came. The day of moving homes permanently before the next batch would took our places. Sadly, we turned our backs on our holding houses and examined what would be our rooms for the next year. Although most of my thoughts were in turmoil, I was still excited about spending my first week in the main house. For a lot of us, the only thing that mattered after arduous hockey practices was the time to sit back and reflect as we had done in our old houses. But as time passed, we grew further away from idle time and more towards productive work.

It’s safe to say that my form mates have changed since our time in the holding houses. We began to feel what the seniors around us called ‘House Spirit’. We learnt to stay united as a form against the odds, whether it was academics or rough times on the field. We felt the adrenaline rush on the sports field, whether it was playing for the house or cheering for it. Our minds and bodies adapted to the toughening schedule and all our perspective to life at Doon changed.

Even if Kashmir house did not give us protection, at times, like Foot, it gave us obstacles to tackle, and mountains to climb. All in all, the experience is one that I wouldn’t forget and one that my form mates, surely won’t either.

C Form 2014

Walking down the hallways of Kashmir, it’s tough not to wonder at the stories the corridors have to tell. Over the years, the changes initiated in the boys who enter the house in C form are remarkable. Personally, my D form and all the years before it swept by in a muddled haze of studying for exams and awaiting their results- a common Indian student’s typical school life. It took a year in Kashmir for all of us to begin the realization of all our very own interests and goals, each form-mate of mine undergoing his own unique metamorphosis.

It’s easy to overlook all the true wonders of a boarding school education without experiencing it. The merits or demerits of a consistently overtaxing schedule only becomes evident when you look back and realize exactly how much you do every day, every week, every month, and every single term. After only a few terms in school your interests change, different goals are set and new habits formed. It’s the first two years in the Main house which decide your path in school, and as I approach the end of my second I find it increasingly surprising how different we all were when we joined. Whether it’s the old ID card photographs we laugh at, or memories of our antics in D- Form, one chord is always struck during our reminisces into the past- the utter unrecognizability of the intimately familiar form-mates in the past.

The metamorphosis agrees more with that of an underwater nymph to a dragonfly than that of a land hugging caterpillar to a butterfly. In the forging of the bonds and the memories of our times in Kashmir, we all lose far more of ourselves than we care to admit.

Reluctantly though we leave the comforts of our homes, we only truly discover ourselves when we join generations of Doscos past and present in trying to live a new life at Doon, trying to find a new home in Kashmir. Looking back at all the choices made and hardships endured, it’s difficult to remember the boy who walked into Doon for the first time, meeting form mates who would evolve over the years. Protests against peer pressure and uniformly bland personalities aside, the changes in my form mates and myself are all changes I’d say are necessary parts of our own life stories, all mutations adding up to our very own unique, unprecedented selves.

B Form 2014

We find ourselves at a rather unique stage – right at the halfway mark of our stay here at Kashmir House. I sense a vital change in the near future. It is only inevitable that as we move ahead in our school life, our roles become more defined and responsibility becomes more abundant. What then is going through my mind as I think about my role in the House in the two years to come?

For the last few years, I have tried my level best to contribute to the House actively. However, I have worked in accordance with what the seniors demanded or required from us. At times, this led to disappointing results. At times, this led to inspiring results. However, for the past two years, I have been a very active learner, grasping the different methods employed as attempts to make the House more successful and comfortable. I have, in my time here, witnessed a change in the running of the House, and a consequent change in the results. While we have been moving in the right direction, there are hindrances that have come our way, which I believe could be avoided.

No policy, from where I see it, is perfect. The one practiced in Kashmir House these days is very effective, but not perfect. What point is there if we do not strive for perfection, and work towards it? It is in this light that I see the two years that are about to unleash themselves upon us.

In the two years that follow, I hope to implement what I have learnt in the last few years. However, that is what I believe makes an institution like Kashmir House so complete. Within these five years, the House inculcates certain values in me. It teaches me lessons, and just like any other student, the onus is on me to extract meaning from it. Within these five years, I also find myself in a position to contribute actively to the decision-making in the House. As juniors, we learn. As seniors, we teach. The circle of life in Kashmir House is what makes our time here so special. It covers, and completes, every aspect of our personality.

This is perhaps my personal take on Kashmir House. However, I also feel that this fits the larger picture. The House that we all live in today gives the same opportunity to live this circle of life to everyone. I have finished the first half of my journey, as the second awaits.

A Form 2014

It’s a common (mis)conception that S-form second term is meant to be the term to scope, the secure positions for the coming year and be the best one can possibly be. Honestly, it isn’t even that far from the truth. But how close it is it, really, to the ideals of this run up to the big year? It all really begins in AT Form- the half term where the specter of the Board Examinations hangs around the corridors of the House. From the late-night chats in toye, to endless mugs of Maggi made in the solitary confines of the AT’s rooms, the banes, as well as these lighter moments of the ICSE haunt us to this day.

But S Form first term is not waht I’m focusing on now. What I truly wish to revisit in this article is not the sun-lit fields of the nonchalant first term, but the concept of the S-Form Second term.

Now I wouldn’t say this is unnecessary. Positions is this school might be meritocratic, but presence is also a vital part of the road to Sc form. The importance of this ‘presence’, however, is often overplayed, and what is underplayed is the learning process associated with it. In the scramble for titles, however, I feel we undermine the job that these titles bring along with them. We underplay the learning processthe how and why of being a particular leader, and as such cannot undertake tasks given as efficiently as we should be able to.

What I simply wish to point out is the inconvenient truth that we are blindly following a path to power.

This term is a time for leaders to groom their future charges, to inculcate a sense of responsibility that shouldn’t hit an Sc right when they enter the final year of their life in Doon. It is, honestly, a rewarding term that is often taken for granted- I myself have learnt more about my form-mates and myself in these short three odd months till now than I ever knew before. But it is also a term that I feel gives undue importance to the titles themselves rather than the importance they entail, or are meant to entail.

To conclude I only have one piece of advice, and it not for the S-form, but for their seniors, be it masters or boys-in-charge. Do not reduce the S-form Second Term to a ‘scoping season’, rather let people excel where their capabilities lie, and groom them for the role you idealize should be associated with that leadership. Because honestly, if you’re not going to give something your all, just don’t do it.

S Form 2014

SC Form 2014

Editor-in-Chief Devesh Sahai Chief-of-Production Ritvik Kar Editors Ishamam Chowdhury Tanay Agarwal

Correspondents Omar Chisti Saatvik Chaudhary

Senior Editors Vivan Sharma Anirudh Popli Nalini Malaviya

Junior Correspondents Armaan T. Verma Kushagra Kar

Deigner Udai Nath Behl Faculty Advisors Ms Purnima Dutta Ms Priyanka Bhattacharya Dr Hammad Farooqui Mr Manish Pant Mr Anjan Chaudhary

Photographers Amal Agarwal Raihan R. Vadra Special Thanks Old Boys’ of Kashmir House Parents of Kashmir House