Class photos

5D

4D

8D
Top->Bottom,L->R: Himadri Kanungo, Siddhartha Das, XX, Avijit Pal,Sumeet Sharma, Partho Ghosh,XX,Abhijit Das,Santak Das, Bidhan Roy,Rajeev Das;
Faisal, Abdul Sajid,Rohit Mohanty,Rajiv Chaki,XX,XX,Saddique Warsi;
Neelamadhav Sahoo,XX,Chandrashekar C,Shoaib Zaheer,Abdul Rashid,Mr.Routray,Payal Panda,Krishna Leena,Lalita Ch,Sabita

10B

Top->Bottom,L->R:Samikhya Das,Rajesh Ram,Manas Swain, Debabrata Das, Suvra Prakash Naik, Saideep Mohanty,Biswajit Soor,Arvind Singh, Subranshu Mishra;

Ashish Acharya, Sidhartha Bose,Rajiv Chaki, Vikas Sahoo, Mohammed Iqbal,Amrit Swain,Subranshu Dutta, Moksh Kohli;

Lalita Ch,Priti Modi,Payal Panda,Mrs.Mathur,Abdul Rashid,Ajay Chopra,Abdul Sajid,Vaneet Mehre,Satyajit Ray

7B

8C
Top->Bottom,L->R:Harpreet Singh,Ashish Acharya,Manish Mishra,XX,Kamaldeep Das,Anirban Kanungo,Amrit Sahoo,Arvind Singh,Tasawar Noor, XX;
XX, XX, Samarendra Mahapatra,Rakesh Pattnaik, Rashmi Ranjan Mohanty, Siddhartha Bose,XX,Pradeep Chowdhary, Amrit Pattnaik, Subranshu Mishra, Rajendra Sahoo,Satyajit Ray, Vivek Kumar Moda;
Ian Unger, Ashutosh Jha,XX,Jogesh Bharalewala,Vijay Bharalewala, Subranshu Dutta, Vivek Agarwal,Satyajit Das,AlotJhunjhuwala, Amrit Pattnaik, Nilesh Parekh, Md.Iqbal;
Sushri Das,Padma Mohanty, Yasmin Banu,Soma Das,Mr.Thankur.Lopa mudra Acharya, Anwesha Swain, Runa Das,Anju Jain, Lipika Mishra.

7C

Top->Bottom,L->R:Rajeev Das,XX,Rajiv Chaki,Raghunandan Mohapatra,XX,Abdul Sajid,Faisal,XX,XX,Satyajit Ray,XX;

Shane Ignatius, Poonam Singh,Suraj Dutta,Dennis Lee,Manas Ranjan Chowdhary,XX,Subhasis Mishra,Siddhartha Bose,Tanveer Ali,Alok Rath,Rashmi Ranjan Mohanty,XX,XX,Ajay Chopra;

Manas Swain,Amrit Swain,XX,XX,Sanjeev Das,Ashutosh Jha,XX,XX,XX,XX;

Anita Mishra,Rekha Rani Singh,Purnima,Lopamudra Acharya,Mr.Sattar,Priti Modi,Lalita B,Anju Jain,Lipika Mishra

                                                                          2A

                                                                           5C
Top->Bottom,L->R:Vivek Agarwal, ××,××,×× Bidhan  Roy, xx,Vivek Moda, Saswat  Kar, AbdulS ajid, Shahbaz Javed khan, Abhijit Das,Vineet Sodhani;
xx,Abdul Rashid,Punit Vyas,Chandan Baskem Manas Choudhury ,Biplab  Behera, xx,xx,xx
Avijit pal,Subhasis das,xx,Rishi  Kapoor;
Debmeet  Patro,  Sabyasachi Rath  , vivek moda, satyajit ray,××,satyajit  dash anubhav , ?,sk afsar, harpreet;
vijay bharalewala xx,xx,××,××, nihar mohanty   , Mrs. Snigdha, Lopamudra Acharya, Rekha Rani Sharma, Anindita Mishra,Runa Das,Sangita Thakur                  

4C

                                                                             5B

                                                                         5A

                                                                       6D

2D

Top->Bottom,L->R: Himadri Kanungo,XX,Samikhya Das,Jogesh Bharalewala,Rashmi Ranjan Mohanty,XX,Sanjeev Das;

Amrit Pattnaik,XX,Zaheer Khan,Neelamadhav Sahoo,Riteish Rawley,Anil Agarwal, Sudeep Das,Pushparaj Das,Amit Agarwal;

Shoaib Zahir,Ajay Agarwal,XX,SudeshnaMukherjee,Soma Das,Mrs Dutta, Yasmin Banu,Monalisa Routray,Susheela Naidu,Shyamalika Das,Saddique Warsi.

I write this in memory of our ex principal Mr. Ashok patra. I choose to blog to pay my sincere respect to him.

If my memory serves me right he was a tall, dark slender man always smartly dressed and he used to teach us Julius ceasar in class10. My understanding of english literature used to somewhat poor in those days and i had to struggle to get through Julius Ceasar.

Everytime after his lectures he used to enquire for doubts and i being a timid girl in those days used to keep quiet. One day he somehow understood my plight and asked me to meet him in his office after school hours.

I was very very nervous literally shaking when i went to meet him the very first time but what i found was a very warm person, very kind and great simplicity in character.

He continued to personally teach me for few weeks after school in his office and each time after the session my respect for him only grew.

It is all because of him i still remember everything of Julius Ceasar and its conversations. Today even after so many years i still feel priviledged of having learnt from him and his kind gesture will always remain in my memory.

DEAR SIR YOU WILL ALWAYS CONTINUE TO INSPIRE ME.

Lipika.

Friends, please share your best memories or thoughts on any of our teachers by emailing to the following email id: stewart91memoirs@gmail.com
Editorial group will select and publish few good entries in the memoir.
It could be any of the teachers from kindergarten till 10th.
Looking forward to your valuable and interesting contributions.

My first memory of Stewart school goes long back to the summers of 1980 when i first came for interview for prep. I still remember how nervous i was and can still recollect the principal room where the interview took place and the smiling face of Mr Harish mishra and few other teachers one of them being Mrs North. She later became my class teacher of prep A........

Then after a long wait school started and still remember my first day in Stewart. I feel nostalgic as old memories come flooding back. I had carried my school box with all my fathers books in it as i felt ashamed going without books. I remember talking first to Ian Unger as i felt he was the smartest in class..........

Then till class 5 we were all carefree with no burden of studies but soon came class 6 and there was a section shuffle and i was in 6D with very few old friends and suddenly felt the burden of studies coming. Then for the first time could feel we are growing up ............and need to exercise restraint in some areas.


Then momentum of transforming into young adults just picked up and time just flew away. Class 7 to 10 was the most fabulous period of school. There was everything going aroud. Fun, play, academics, gossips, romance, ........and what not. School days are the best of every individual life. I will always miss my days in school and all my friends. I miss you all and all will always remain dear to me.


Happy Friendship Day to all.

Bitter Sweet Memories of Stewart School

I am able to recollect some incidents from school and cant help becoming nostalgic while reminiscing. Here are a few which appear at the top of my memories list, not in any specific order.

I remember the PT class in 9 B, where I blurted out about the heat being too much, as an excuse to go back to class and prepare for the upcoming test. This increased the temperature/blood pressure of our PT teacher and he punished us girls by making us stand in the hot sun. He could not bear to see us suffer for much time though, and excused us from the PT class. I still remember my lady classmates giving me a piece of their mind after coming back!! :)

Then there was the Chemistry Final exam in 10th, where I was concentrating so hard to recollect the chemistry formulas that Mrs.Mathur who was the invigilator observed this and came to me with a worried look on her face and asked me if all was well with me and the paper. For a moment, I just hoped that she could help me with a few answers. :)

Then again, we had Mr.Routray in Class 8 D, who always used to ask me about the Andhra pickles. He was in awe that I eat pickles every day and used to get a confirmation from me in each Maths class. I now realize that I should have told him that, that is the reason we also eat curd rice every day as an antidote. :)

Mr.Sattar, in Class 7C....Set Theory had me in a fix and in his 2nd class on the Lesson, he started asking us questions which most of us could not answer and were  in turn taken to meet the Principal, Mr. Patro. That was the first and last time I visited the Principal's room as a punishment and also saw the boys getting some caning. Thankfully he spared the girls, but the impact that the incident had on me got my parents worried and they started sending me to one of our relatives for Maths tuition and I managed to get above average marks in the Maths Final Exam that year!! :)

Me and Payal were the "giggly" girls. This started from our getting together in 8 D and went on till 10 B. Once we started on some giggly idea(this was something beyond all logic), there was no stopping us for the entire period or sometimes the whole day. Inspite of numerous warnings from Mrs.Devi in 8 D, we were uncontrollable. We also pissed off Mrs.Viola Adams once, though she was usually very soft and rarely got irritated. The remaining girls of the class used to give us angry looks each time,but that somehow did not deter us in any way and we used to carry on with it.

There was also that one occurrence when I got a hit with the scale on my hand from Mrs.Samal, our chemistry teacher in Class 7C for forgetting my text book.My palm burned for the rest of the day and never ever did I repeat the mistake again.

I owe whatever I am today to almost all our teachers ....Mrs.Mathur for getting me to love Maths, Mr.SP Das for making me enjoy English Literature, Mr.Patro and Mr.Swamy for my admiration of Shakespeare, Mrs.Sheila Jena for making Geography so interesting, Miss Chumai for making me appreciate English grammar,Mr.Ali for making me look with awe towards Indian History and Culture....the list goes on.

And not to forget all my classmates and friends...who have helped me in my emotional growth through each argument and friendly banter.

All these incidents have shaped me and impacted me one way or the other and helped me grow as a person.
I just want to end by saying :Thank you Stewart School for your part in creating the "me" of today!

THOSE DAYS

The day I first set foot inside Stewart School, Cuttack, I was still a student of Little Angel's Nursery School. In fact it was my last day at the nursery school and I was had gone to survey the school I was to join soon for my preparatory classes. My cousin Tanweer was already in prep there. Yes, I was a year junior to the 1991 batch once.
It was also the last day of the session at Stewart School and they had organised, among other things, a fancy dress event. Tanweer had arrived early in the morning to my place to be transformed into a clown. I watched with envy as my father, the in-house artist, applied paint on his face. Work accomplished, he left for his school and I for mine. After the function at my school got over, I had headed for Stewart School to pick up Tanweer. I faintly recall the pond in front of the school, which must have been filled up with sand at some point of time.
At my admission interview, principal Mr H.C. Mishra had asked me how I came to school. While my parents looked on astounded, I had stood up and walked a few steps and said "Like this". I somehow made it to the school.
Unlike my first day in nursery school, I had not cried at all in prep. I just about recall my class teacher Mrs North's face, for, soon after, I left with my parents for Ethiopia, where they were to work for some time. In Asmara, a city in Ethiopia's northern province of Eritrea that became the capital when Eritrea seceded from Ethiopia, I took admission into an Ethiopian school but the medium of teaching -- in Tigrinia, the regional language, and Amharic, the national language -- was not going to be easy. I was soon shunted to an Italian medium school, the language being closer to English in a strange land. I got admitted into Class 1, thus jumping a year in just a few months.
Soon, I was studying Italian at school, speaking in Tigrinia with the children in my building, in Hindustani (that strange mix of Urdu and Hindi) at home, and in English with friends of my parents. That was not all. When I returned to India during summer vacations three years later, my parents admitted me into Class IV (D) at Stewart School. Miss PD James was the principal then. Within days, I was struggling to note down Hindi answers the teacher (Mr Latif, I think) wrote on the board. For me those letters were just shapes that evoked no sound yet. One look at my copy and the boy sitting next to me (I can't recall who it was) cried out to the teacher: "Sir, please take a look at his handwriting." I was rewarded with four tight slaps, which still ring in my ears, like in those Bollywood movies.
The same was repeated the day after and would have gone on had it not been for my other cousin, Shoaib, who was in the same class. He came and told my parents about my ordeal. "He gets slapped every day and doesn't utter a word in defense."
That is when my father wrote a letter to the teacher, specifying how I had been away from the country and studied in a totally different medium. The next day I presented my credentials to the teacher before he wrote a single letter on the board. He asked my why I had never protested. He never hit me again while my parents tried to teach me Hindi at home. So, when we went back to Ethiopia three months later, I was studying Italian at school and English, Hindi and Oriya at home (my parents had taken my books along), not to forget any homework I got at my Italian school.
I recall a few other things about those three months at Stewart School in 1984 -- I used to sit behind Pushparaj, Payal was the prefect. Once Payal and Sudeshna had tied a rakhi on me. I had gone red in the face and hid it inside my bag. Later my mother fished it out and asked me where it came from. I had gone red in the face while mentioning who. I didn't know, until I was told, the significance of the string. The next day, my mother had sent me to school with a carton of Nutties for Payal and Sudeshna. If I recall correctly, I had munched a few and given the rest to them.
My class teacher was Miss Kindo. I recall how Ms Chumai introduced me to Hiuen Tsang, the SUPW teacher who made us pick up stones and move them from one place to another, Ms Minati Patnaik's caning when one did not finish the homework and Ms Bhaskar's affectionate smile.
I had my third tryst with Stewart School two years later, in 1986, during another summer vacation visit to India. This time Mr A K Patra took my admission test and sent me to Class VI(A). There were no with me this time, and neither could I recall anybody who had been with me in IV(D). I was there from July to October after which I went back to Ethiopia, but this time we were to return for good in a few month's time so I remained a non-resident student, my fees being paid regularly, returning in March for the final exams.
After my promotion, Class VII was the first class I attended from beginning to the end. I faced difficulties adjusting to a totally different kind of school and culture, but in hindsight, those years played a major role in preparing me for the rough and tumble of life in any Indian city.

                                                                                         

Stewart School Batch of 91 - 2nd innings blossoms

Friends, what a great 2nd innings it has been for us ...taking off after about 24 years since we wrote the ICSE exam during the summer of  1991!!

Life has influenced us all in one way or the other. In addition to a positive change in our aptitudes, our attitudes , our general outlook, our physicality ..all have undergone tremendous change. But the bond of childhood and our school unites us together in a unique way.
Some friends who were close to each other earlier have drifted apart , and people who never talked to each other in school have become great friends now.We have renewed our friendships, and are discovering each other all over again.

Though we have all grown older by 24 years, this 2nd innings has ,in fact, made us younger by several years, and it feels like we just took a giant leap and came back together all over again.Lets hope this friendship blossoms anew and the bond strengthens with each new day!!

Dear Friends,

Great way to harness technology ! Our bond of friendship is gaining strength to which others may awe. I wish and hope we all will continue to keep the same spirit.

All The Best !

Regards,
Vikas Sahoo

Hello Stewartonians of the 1991 make,,, Does that make sense? No? Let me try again.
1991 is when we became complete, The Stewart journey began much earlier... for many it must have been around 10 years ago while others, me included, joined on the way, in the course of the journey, which came to an important bend in 1991. That is when we, kind of, parted. Some of us who went to the same college kept in touch, others went to the same tuition and rekindled or kept the memories alive. But gradually, except for some who were very close, we moved on in life and never looked back... until some thoughtful ones (who best remain unnamed) decided it was time to reconnect, to go back to where it all started, to that place on Mission Road in Cuttack. And here we are again, trying to reconnect, rebuild on where we had left. It seems just like yesterday. All of us remember something about that yesterday. Just think what our collective memories must hold. So, dear friends, come out with what you have in your hearts and minds, spill it all out here, anecdotes, memories, sweet thoughts, untold crushes, unforgiven and unforgotten acts and the unforgettable ones. Pour your hearts out here and let us see what binds us together after all these years..BLOG ON.