Father More : In Memoriam
Tributes and Works in the Memory of a Guiding Spirit
Guestbook
Please do add your tributes to Fr. More or memories of your days at Campion.
Remembering Father E.F. More, S.J.
Whenever I remember Father More, the first thing which comes to my mind is he and my Father share the same birthdays, i.e. July 20th. Father More would have been 103 years old if he had been alive on 20th July, 2010, while my father is 86 years old. Both of them have had a great impact on my up-bringing, one Father at home and the other at School.
Remembering Father More, after 43 long years is difficult but there are quite a few incidents, which I recall. I remember appearing for the COOKING EXAM as a part of my training as a Scout. We were required to prepare a sabzi and dal along with rice for the meal as well as a sweet dish, the dishes to be tasted by Father More as well as to be eaten by him, apart from the undersigned. Cooking was to be done as at a Scout Camp, in the open. Facilities available would be a few bricks, wood, a box of matches and dry leaves whichever could be found strewn around. You were allowed to bring the bare minimum of utensils including dekchis/karahis/frying pans and the required ingredients.
Knowing little or nothing about cooking and after taking a few tips from my Mom I went to school to appear in the cooking test. I carried whatever was prescribed but I also added a pair of large size oven gloves, which my Dad had got from his last trip abroad. These gloves were of the type where small hands could fit in completely and were joined at both ends – perfectly suited for baking ovens at temperatures 300-4000 F, which I took as adequate protection for holding the hot dekchis/karahis.
The problem was how to cook the meal with my little know-how. While it took quite a few minutes to set up the stove, which comprised of bricks, pieces of wood and dry leaves the Dekchi was promptly placed on top. The rice and the water went in and soon the rice started to boil. However, within a few minutes the entire base of the Dekchi was blackened with soot. After looking at my watch and as per the timings recommended by my Mother I took the Dekchi off the ‘stove’ and in the process blackened the entire base of the dekchi as well as the entire outside surface of the oven gloves. Next came the Dal & Sabzi, and whether it was the ingredients I used or the utensils viz. Dekchi/Karahi/Frying pan, all turned a foul black colour when the item was finished. Father More came to check when I was making the last dish which was the Sweet dish, for which I had selected French Toasts. One look at the utensils and the colour of its contents was good enough to put Father More off and he yelled – “Whath have you made!” I explained that it was a Bengali Dal & Sabzi apart from French Toasts, which my Mother had taught me. “Did your Mother tell you to make everything black, he shouted.” “ I don’t think its worth looking at what you ha’ve made,” and started walking off indicating that I had flunked the test. I pleaded with Father to at least taste the food even if he were to disqualify me. After much pleading he agreed and I served him a spoon of rice apart from one spoon of Dal & Sabzi.
With a large scowl on his face, he put the rice, dal and sabzi in his mouth. Initially, after the first bite there was a grimace on his face, but after the second and third bites his face appeared to become a bit more pleasant. Taking cue and even without his asking I piled on a few more scoops of rice, dal & sabzi on his plate and found them disappearing with aplomb and a dry smile emerging on his face. I knew I was through.
Another fascination, which Father More had was with Caps. Often he would board the school bus as it would be about to leave school for home, pick on the guys without their caps on and while administering a “Gold Medal” (solid pinch) would cry out “Where’s your Cap!” While I was careful to have my cap on when I was on the school bus, I got a taste of it at one of the Inter-School Scout Meets. My Scout Cap happened to be too small for me and it would keep falling off my head and in-spite of my best efforts I was unable to obtain a replacement. The best place for me to keep the Cap was either in my hand or tucked into my shorts. Neither was acceptable to Father and I was getting rebuked each time. I happened to win an award at the Essay Competition at the Meet. However, my joy was short lived as when I was running up to receive the award Father was chasing me and yelling, “Put on your cap, put on your cap!”
While Father More was strict, he was also very humane. Once, in Class VI when I was sick for more than a month-and-a-half he first sent Father Gomes my house and later came himself to look me up and to enquire about my well-being. He also assured my parents that I would not have to suffer on account of my attendance and I would be able to make good the loss of studies that I had suffered because of my absence from School.
On the other hand, when he wanted to be firm, he remained firm. In Class VII he decided to shift me along with a few others from Section B to Section A. I was most unhappy being re-located to an unknown class leaving my pals behind. When I requested him for a change back to the old Section and tried to pressurize him, he initially said that he would look into it but within a few hours, on the same day itself, he made it very clear that there would be NO CHANGE. As time went by, I reconciled to the new Section and today I am glad I have old batch mates from both the Sections.
Through another incident, I recall his firmness. In Class VII we had done an English Play on the Annual Prize Distribution Day, which was well appreciated, especially by Father More, and a few photographs of the same are enclosed. The subsequent year when our Section wanted to do a similar kind of English Play citing our success during the previous year, after initially agreeing, Father More refused and told Father Joachim that it was not worth doing the Play at all!
The most tender moment of my association with Father More was when I requested him for a transfer certificate to Delhi for academic reasons. When I went up to him he asked me whether I was sure that I did want to go to Delhi. When I insisted, with a glint in his eye he wrote out a letter to Father T.V. Kunnunkal, then Principal of St. Xavier’s, Delhi (later on Chairman of the C.B.S.E.) stating “Father we are sorry to lose him but I would request you to grant him admission considering his performance in Campion School.” He told me that with this letter Father Kunnunkal would not refuse me admission to Class IX, which I subsequently got. However, for different reasons I opted for Modern School, Delhi.
These are just some of the incidents which come to mind involving Father More and I am sure my batch mates can recall several others. All in all, Father More was a Father figure and guide who took special pains to make everyone feel at home and comfortable. I truly agree he was a “Khuda da Banda”. I pay my most sincere respects to him.
Shuman Mukherjee,
Student of Campion School 1966-68
20 July 2010
