Authors: Subhas Anandan
You should not underestimate my Naval Base School experience because, deep inside, I know that the school, along with my parents and close friends, moulded my character. For example, I remember I was the only one from the school selected to play cricket for Bukit Timah District. The rest of the cricket team comprised players from Anglo-Chinese School. Most of them went on to play cricket for Singapore. I suppose to make it look as though the team was not a monopoly of ACS boys, they made me their wicketkeeper. I wasn’t particularly interested in playing cricket for the district, but my cricket master, Mr Van Schoenbeck, thought it was a great honour that I had been chosen to play. It was the first time a Naval Base School student had been selected. He made sure that I went for all the games whether I liked it or not.
At that time, I was already assistant head boy at school and I had no choice but to obey the instructions. The games were played in several different schools in different parts of Singapore. In one game, Bukit Timah District was to play against City District in Monk’s Hill Secondary School.
Mr Schoenbeck asked, “So you’re going for the game at Monk’s Hill?”
“Yes, sir.”
He explained to me the logistics of making it to the game and back home. “It will cost you 25 cents to take a bus to Rex Theatre. From there, another bus ride to Monk’s Hill will cost you 5 cents. So for a return ride, you will need 60 cents. A drink will cost 20 cents. Here’s a dollar. In total you should only spend 80 cents out of it and I expect change of 20 cents tomorrow. It has to go into the kitty for someone else who may need it.”
It was a very long journey from the Base to Monk’s Hill Secondary School. It took me more than an hour to reach my destination. Distances are obviously the same today but somehow those bus trips seemed endless. I suppose it’s because the buses just trudged along at low speeds and made countless stops along the way.
As I was changing into my cricket gear, my teammates started to arrive. Most of them were chauffeur-driven in big cars like Mercedes Benzes and Jaguars. Some even drove their own cars. It seemed to me like they lived in a different world. After the game, I didn’t hang around. I quickly removed my wicketkeeper’s paraphernalia—the pads, the gloves and the box—and hopped onto a bus on Bukit Timah Road heading for the Rex Theatre. I spent my 20 cents on a drink there. Then I made my long journey back to Sembawang. Mr Schoenbeck was waiting for me with anticipation as I got off the bus near our school.
He asked, “So how? Did Bukit Timah District win?”
I assured him. “As long as the ACS boys are in the team, Bukit Timah District will definitely win. They’re really good players. There’s nothing much to do and I don’t think I should go for the next game.”
“No such thing. You’re going to complete the season,” he insisted.
Mr Schoenbeck was a Eurasian of Dutch origin who spoke with an unusual accent. Everyone knew him as a kind man. Although he was not rich, there were occasions when he would give money to students out of his own pocket. I was reluctant to continue playing as I didn’t enjoy watching my teammates driving up or being driven up in fancy cars. But I persevered as I didn’t want to disappoint Mr Schoenbeck. It also spurred me on to fulfil a dream of one day owning a Benz or a Jaguar myself. I have fulfilled this dream. It is a passion of mine to drive big capacity cars like the Mercedes Benz, Jaguar or BMW.
Naval Base School taught me what it is to be loyal, and about loyalty to your school and loyalty to your friends. Rich or poor, a different race or creed, as long as we were wearing the uniform and the badge of Naval Base School, we stuck together. It didn’t matter what kind of trouble we were getting into. This is why I always say that the uniform you wear—a school uniform, a sports kit or whatever—you must always be loyal to it. It doesn’t matter whether your teammate is in the wrong or not. You should stand by him against the world. But in the dressing room, you can tell him off if you have to.
I tell this now to the young lawyers at KhattarWong. If you have a problem and you are upset about a situation, try to sort it out within the firm. Talk to me, talk to the partners, but don’t ever take the problem outside the firm, like in the Bar Room, and share it with members of other firms. You do that and you are out. I talk to them this way as though I have the power to sack them but that’s how I feel. To give credit to the partners of KhattarWong, they have assured me that, as a respected consultant, I can take such liberties in addressing younger lawyers.
My elder sister was studying medicine in New Delhi by the time I completed my ‘O’ level exams and my mother wanted me to be a doctor too. The problem was that I didn’t qualify for the pre-medicine classes in Singapore because of an F9 in chemistry. The grade was inevitable considering I did many of my extra-curricular activities by cutting chemistry classes. I didn’t get into trouble for doing that because my chemistry teacher, a very attractive Malayalee lady, was very indulgent with me. The rare days when I did attend her class, she would ask me to run errands such as changing $10 or $50 notes for her. I would always tell her that the canteen owner would only give me change if I bought something from him. The usual response from her was to ask me to buy a drink for myself. This became a joke as everyone in the class knew that I was hustling her for a drink. Later, we realised that she knew exactly what was going on.
I was accepted at Loyola College in Madras (now Chennai) as a pre-university medical student. It didn’t matter to the college that I had failed chemistry. What mattered was that I had a First Grade for my ‘O’ level results. After the first few lessons, I realised that I was not meant to be a doctor. I was also very homesick. I missed my mother very much and missed her cooking even more. I wrote to my father to say that I was very unhappy and as expected, he asked me to take a flight back home. Once back in Singapore, my father said that I had to continue my studies. So, I enrolled at Raffles Institution as it was the nearest pre-university school with the most convenient bus route from my home.
While we often hear the likes of Lee Kuan Yew and Goh Chok Tong extolling the virtues of RI as old boys of the school, I didn’t like it very much. My memories are dominated by the hot and sweaty bus journeys I had to endure. We didn’t have air-conditioned buses in those days. I had to wake up at 5.00 am every day to ensure that I caught the first bus out of Sembawang by 6.00 am. At that time, the school was located on Bras Basah Road. In all, I had to catch three buses and reached school by 7.20 am.
Apart from the long travel time, I didn’t like the way the Raffles boys and teachers behaved. Many of the teachers thought they were God’s gift to Singapore’s education system as RI was considered the best school in Singapore. I also found my fellow students overly competitive, arrogant and conceited. I suppose that’s an inevitable outcome when you are constantly told by your family and friends that you are the best or that you have to be the best.
On my first day at RI, there were many ‘outsiders’ like me in class. A teacher walked in and said: “I am the hockey master for Raffles Institution and all those who have played hockey for their former schools, put your hands up.” I saw many hands up in the air around me. Although I had played hockey for Naval Base School, I kept my hands on the desk. I didn’t want to play hockey or any other sport because of the distance I had to travel each day to school. If I were to play these games, I would have to stay in school for an extra three to four hours before a game. It would have been late in the evening by the time I got home, if I was lucky to catch my buses on time. I also just wanted to concentrate on my studies as I felt that I had wasted one year of my life with the failed experiment in Loyola.
I thought I’d be left alone after not putting my hand up, but the hockey master recognised me. He had umpired in the district final between Naval Base School and Jurong Secondary School in 1962. You wouldn’t know it looking at me now, but I was noted as a fast, nippy right-winger and the solitary goal that won the final came from the right side. I ran all the way from our own half and centred the ball for the centre forward to score.
The teacher asked me, “Haven’t you played hockey before for your school?”
“Yes I have,” I replied.
“Then why didn’t you put your hand up?”
I told him I didn’t want to play hockey anymore. Instead of asking me why I was opting not to play, he shouted at me, “Which stupid school gave you this stupid attitude?”
I didn’t mind being scolded or being called stupid, but I objected very much to someone calling Naval Base School a stupid school. So I told him quietly, “Don’t call my former school stupid.”
There was absolute silence in the class. He left his books on the table and came marching towards me. For a moment, I thought he was going to hit me and I wish he had because I would have punched him in his face. He said, “What do you want? Tell me, what is it that you want?”
“I don’t want anything from you, sir. I just don’t want you to call my school stupid.”
“Well then, get out of my class.”
I left the class, went to the school library and waited. I thought that would be my punishment, but things did not end there. The hockey master reported me to the senior master, Mr K P John (who later became a client of my firm for a property transaction). I was called in by Mr John to explain what happened in class. I told him the story and about why I didn’t think I could play hockey for the school. He listened patiently. When I had finished, he told me I should not have responded to a teacher in the way I did as it showed a lack of respect. Mr John said he admired my loyalty to my former school and hoped I would show the same loyalty to RI in the years to come.
He also said that the hockey master was my history teacher and that I had to apologise to him. If I didn’t, the teacher wanted me out of the class. I was quite prepared not to do history, and I told Mr John that I would manage without history. The senior master said it didn’t work that way. “You have to apologise. If you don’t, this matter will blow up into a bigger one and it’s not going to be good for you. So, you think about it and apologise to him tomorrow,” he said.
At home later that day, I explained to my mother what had happened in school. “Maybe I’m not meant to study at Raffles. I should go to some other school or maybe I should do some other course in the polytechnic,” I said. At that time, I think only Singapore Polytechnic was in operation and it wasn’t that well established yet.
My mother would have nothing of that. “You’ve wasted enough time. Raffles is a very good school and you’re lucky to be there. Don’t give any excuses. You will go to school tomorrow,” she ordered. My father remained quiet but was giving me the stare that always made me feel uneasy. It was one that said: “Look, you’ve wasted enough of my money. Get on with it.” I knew what I had to do.
The next day in class, I apologised to the hockey master for being rude. I can honestly say it was one of the most insincere apologies I have ever made. Sometimes you have to do things that you don’t like to do and that was one of those times. Instead of accepting my apology with grace, this is what he told me: “Don’t worry, Subhas. Even if you want to play hockey for the school or for that matter any other game, your standard will not be that good because the standard of RI is very high.”
I was quietly amused because by then I had represented Combined Schools in both hockey and soccer. I was a Combined Schools athlete too. The standard of Combined Schools must definitely be better than RI. This is a fact. Unfortunately, my encounter with the hockey master had repercussions. He made sure the other teachers knew about my behaviour that first day in school. Every teacher who came to teach in my class, except for my form mistress, found some reason to pick on me. The geography teacher was especially harsh. I thought about what my mother said and tolerated everything.
Things began to change after I attended a school house meeting, my first one ever at the school. I was in Hullet House. The house master, Mr Hernon, recognised me as he had taught me in Secondary 1 at Naval Base School. He put his arm around my shoulders like I was an old friend and said, “Hey, you rascal, I’m so happy to see you here.” He remembered that I played football and asked me to play for Hullet House. Since the next game was on a Saturday morning and I wouldn’t have to wait after school for the game, I agreed. I can’t remember which house we played against, but the school’s football master, Mr Siddhu, was the referee. After the game, Mr Siddhu asked me why I hadn’t attended the school selection trials.
The devil in me couldn’t resist and I replied, “I didn’t come because the hockey master said that the standards in RI are so high that I would not have been picked to play for any team in the school.”
“It doesn’t matter what he said. Would you like to play for RI?”
“I don’t mind but the problem is I stay so far away. If there’s a game on, I cannot go home and return for the game on time. I would have to hang around in school and by the time the game ends, I will be so late getting home because I have to take three buses.”
Mr Siddhu smiled. “Don’t worry, Subhas. We will try to make arrangements comfortable for you. You can take a taxi.” I looked at him and wondered how I was going to afford that but he continued: “I will pay for it so you won’t be so tired to study when you get home. I would really be happy if you played for RI.” As he came across to me as a genuine person, I said I would.
That was how I became a member of the RI football team. I was vice-captain in our second year and, for once, RI shone in soccer. We reached the finals of the inter-schools competition but lost to St Patrick’s School after a replay. I also ran cross-country and broke the course record in my first run for Hullet House. I subsequently came in second in the inter-schools cross-country. The hockey master who said I wasn’t good enough never acknowledged my sporting achievements.
Talking about my sporting experiences in RI, I have to mention a tradition in the school that I took part in. RI always played an annual football match with Johor English College. In 1965, I was in my second year at RI and also vice-captain of the football team. The captain was Mansoor Marican, but he was captain in name only. He was a pleasant person but on the field, I would normally take command. He was too soft to make tough decisions.