Hemantha Kalam - 64 "Click right to Type write"

(All pictures courtesy Google search)

This damned key board that I am using for my desktop computer is a sham. For once, my daughter got fooled. She is quite adept in online buying and about gadgets too, but this time, the keyboard, purportedly from an American computer giant, is not easy to type on, as the keys get stuck every third strike or other and just cannot take my speed of typing, which is now about 48 years vintage.

When talking of my typewriting speed I have to inevitably think of the summer of 1972 which was a watershed in my life time. All of 16 years old that I became, my father found it necessary to put me into gainful learnings, during my summer holidays. So, it was learning type-writing and shorthand in the early morning, learning Tamil Language in the morning and learning Hindi language in the evening {it was during these classes that Mr. Annadurai Kannadasan (son of the famous Tamil poet Kannadasan) was my bench mate}.

Helping my mother in bringing up my three siblings, while listening to the radio (those days there was good music - unlike today’s frigging constipated stuff that we are doled out with that you can’t remember the next moment) and practicing my singing with (or should it be on?) my hapless siblings, filled the rest of my day. And yes, I could sneak out for a game of ball-badminton at which I have proven myself good (but not as good as my father). I fretted and fumed against the tight regime, but there was very little I could do against the dictums of my dear father.

I had been a late bird, all my life. Having the dubious distinction of going alone for ‘second-show’ cinemas, at least twice a week, usually from 10.00 pm till at least 12.30 am the next day, and walk home in the dead of the night, several times in pouring rain too, when I was just 13 years of age, it got into my DNA to wake up late in the mornings. Such being the case, you can imagine what an effort it required of me to wake up early in the mornings and to go to the ‘Typewriting Institute’ as that is the name given to the typing learning/teaching centres.

The nearest typewriting institute, called ‘Durga Tutorials and Institute’ was about two kms away from my home and I had to either bicycle (when my father allowed me to use his 24 inches bicycle – a tall guy that he was) or walk halfway to the bus stand or walk the entire distance and save the bus fare. I used to either walk and save, or use my father’s bicycle.

The monthly fee for typewriting was Rs.10 and for the shorthand was Rs.15 (as I could recall the US D was around INR 8 then) meaning that we were paying something like four cents per hour of typewriting classes and about six cents per hour of short-hand classes.

I had initially observed the classes for shorthand from a distance and immediately decided that I am not cut for that as it required patience and practice, both of which I lacked and continue to lack. So I didn’t want to waste good money on buying a new shorthand book and got a used book for about Rs.3 from a vendor on the pavement. For my father’s sake, I attended a few classes of short-hand and could learn strokes for ‘pee bee tee dee’ and then I called it a day, forever for my short-hand classes. This is one language I really didn’t like to learn, at all.

Now coming to the typewriting classes, the hours of classes were decided, by the students, based on three very important factors:

1) Those hours, where good looking and attractive girls also attend, is the primary reason (for boys). Could have been the same for the girls too but at that age I never had the guts to check it out. But then, there have been quite several institutes where love blossomed into marriages – successful or not, please don’t ask me!

2) The type / brand of typewriter that is made available.

3) Convenience of time.

Since my day’s itinerary has already been pre-fixed for me by my father, I had no other go but to attend only the first opening hour for my class.

After a couple of months of learning typing there, I was feeling claustrophobic as the room was too small and overcrowded and I was given a relic of a typewriter called ‘Underwood’ (should have been named ‘Under grave’ actually) to practice on, which was no incentive at all. The only thing that kept me on was the fear of my father and the lady teacher there, who was quite kind.

Soon a new institute opened nearer to my house within half-a-kilo meter's distance from my house, and I got into that institute again, at the opening hour in the early morning. I racked my brains but couldn’t remember the name of this second institute I had attended, which was then opened newly and was located on the first floor opposite Prasad Film Studio on Arunachalam Road, Saligramam, Chennai.

Those days, several ‘type institutes’ were run by secretaries / stenographers who were already employed in some office, but this was to be a source of secondary income and, in most of the cases, run by a brother-in-law, who has accompanied the wife in marriage and who is generally not gainfully employed.

It was a similar case. First the brother-in-law used to come, open the institute, sweep the hall, pick up and dispose of  the earlier day’s litter of garbage, collect water in a pot for drinking, dust all the typewriters, keep the lessons next to each typewriter and be ready for the students. After about an hour and a half, the main person would come who would be teaching shorthand and leave for office after an hour or so. In the evenings, he used to rush to institute straight from the office and go home only after closing the institute after the last batch hour which could easily be by 10 pm at least. Thankfully there were no mobile phones for distractions. When he missed the last bus, there were instances when he walked home, dog tired.

The students would be in different levels of learning; beginning with familiarising on the ‘Qwerty’ keyboard (the word QWERTY was not known to us those days as it has been coined by the later generation of computer whiz kids). The first lesson would be to type continuously ‘asdfgf’;lkjhj asdfgf’;lkjhj’ and so on till you can type the same blindfolded and without looking at the keyboard and using all the fingers of both the hands. After about a week or so, one graduates to typing the next lesson of the upper row “qwertr poiuyu’ and then ‘zxcvbv /.,mnm’ something like that. The final will be digits. Some institutes also taught in Tamil with a specific vernacular key board and which was more difficult than English typewriting.

For all this practice, all institutes used to have run-down vintage models of mostly ‘Underwood’ typewriters, whose keys get stuck deeply or with each other often. So if you wish to graduate to a better typewriter you have to learn faster.

Underwood Typewriter

Then you are made to practice words like imposition. This will go on for at least another fortnight or so. Then you graduate to sentences.

The students had to bring in their own stationery. Once you insert the paper into the platen, balance the edges perfectly and fix both sides margins, you clip it tight and start typing. At the end of every line, you push the handle which pushes the ratchet and moves the platen in a circular motion so that after every line, space for the next line would be ready. The typing ribbons could come in several colours, Black, blue, green, blue and red, black and red etc. One can type in two colours by tipping a small lever on the machine. They also taught exact spacing between lines, words and punctuation etc. Truly, for a sincere student, by the time higher grade exam is completed, s/he would have become a real ace in typewriting.

By the time you are ready to type fast and what is called as ‘speed’ typing, you would have had a practice of at least two or three months. As I remember (well, my memory in this regard is a bit rusty, though) if you are able to type 40 words per minute (WPM), you qualify for having passed the Lower grade, if you can do 80 WPM, it would be higher grade and above 100 WPM means, the high speed grade.

For the speed level practicing, normally institutes used to have Halda and or Remington Rand typewriters and some institutes used to have Godrej typewriters. While the Halda typewriters were of feather touch, the Remington of medium touch, Godrej typewriters required real macho touch. It was much later that Facit typewriters were introduced.

Halda Typewriter

Remington Rand – Standard Typewriter

Godrej Typewriter with a large (wide) carrier

Facit Typewriter

Many of the students did not choose Godrej typewriters in the institutes because they were worried that their tender fingers would ache and that their speed would be impeded. Since there was no competition, I always preferred Godrej typewriters. Well, those days I never had any inkling that one day I would be working for one of the Godrej group companies and continue with them for about 12 years of my life.

Legend has it that Godrej & Boyce, the company which was manufacturing these typewriters, used to set a target for newly joining sales persons to sell at least three typewriters in six months, before confirming them for the job. As the keyboard required hard touch and many stenographers were women with tender fingers, apparently they were not favouring the typewriter and hence it was tough selling the same.

A confirmed but unproven story has it that one particular Chennai based well known film actor (whose son also became a hit film actor) joined as a salesman with the company, could sell only two typewriters, could not sell a third and so did not turn up at office neither to return the unsold machine nor to pay the proceeds of the sale amount of the earlier two typewriters as well, which he had collected from the clients on behalf of the company. The company followed up for quite some time and finally found it profitable to write off the amount and close the matter.

The long and short of it was that I almost had a free run of the Godrej typewriter and practiced my speed on them. Normally since every participant got only an hour of the day for which he has paid, the next batch person would be breathing on your neck for her/his time. In this case, since there weren’t many takers, I didn’t have this issue too. Like Wild Bill Hickok, I never liked my back to the door and never liked people standing behind me, even if that was my instructor. Inevitably my touch became very hard and I could later never type on any light touch typewriters, especially on Halda, ever.

At home, my father had an Italian Olivetti Lettera 22 model portable typewriter from his office for working from home (this ‘working from home’ concept existed in our home since my childhood) and even if I wanted to type on it, I used to feel the difference as between a musk and a mouse. Later when my father quit that job, he very reluctantly returned that typewriter but very soon purchased a Remington Rand Portable typewriter, which we have it to date as one of our father’s several material inheritances. Later, I too purchased a Godrej typewriter and after continuous disuse, disposed it off.

Olivetti Lettera 22 Portable Typewriter

Remington Rand Portable Typewriter

I do not clearly remember whether I qualified for my Lower Grade examination from this typewriting institute or from another Institute called ‘Laxminarayana Institute of Commerce’ or LIC, as it was fondly referred to, which opened up just a couple of streets away, but pass I did.

This institute was run by a family, where the two brothers used to take turns in running the class sessions and the two sisters helped in the upkeep of the institution. The elder brother was working as a secretary in a Multinational Company and with his life savings he started the institute. Later the elder brother got married and his wife, a kind lady, also gave a helping hand in running the institute.  His younger brother was the contemporary of yours faithfully, studying in a college where most of the pious students used to get admitted. Inevitably, he got a gold medal and grew rapidly in life to retire as a director of the Exim Bank in India. Yours faithfully tasted a series of failures, but yet closed his active career as a Managing Director of a Microfinance Institution.

The writing of the typewriting examinations was like a jamboree. The government of our state, Tamilnadu, used to conduct these examinations twice a year. Centrally located large schools would be identified and the examinations would take place on two days in batches for Lower, Higher and High Speed grades of Typewriting and shorthand. Though it was a breeze for arranging the shorthand grade tests, it was a challenge to arrange the typewriting grade tests.

Students would have been used to a particular typewriter and the institutes would have to transport those machines to a designated centre, ensure the safe keeping of the same, co-ordinate the machine, the student and the time for the test to take place. During the grade examination days, the institutes’ owners would not have proper food or sleep, in anxiety, for the safety of their machines as well as for the results of the students. If many students fail, the institute may not attract new students from the next batch. When I was young at 16 years of age, I couldn’t care less, as I never bothered to understand these issues but today when I look back, I do empathise with their agony.

I have passed the lower grade examination and pushed by the success, continued with the institute for the higher grade and practiced real furiously. The fee per month now was just about Rs.15 if I remember and there used to be some students who c/wouldn’t pay this and in time too!

The day for the higher grade examination approached and I was doing the speed of something like about 120 words per minute and the institute really was looking out at me as a sure winner of some record breaking recognition.

I sat before the machine and started hitting it and completed the first page in about five minutes or so; only to note how doltish I was. The paper on which I typed was torn diagonally and became a useless dreck to be submitted. My eyes welled with tears. I think that was one of the first of a series of failures in my life. I took the question paper and hopeless of passing the grade, I still attended the mechanism test, so that I can take in the questions and give them to the institute, for the benefit of future students, as sample questions.

I never again attempted to qualify in typewriting. Today my typing prowess shows for my capability, than my certificate.

But while it lasted, it was fun. We started the practice of celebrating festivals and annual days (anniversaries) of the institute (LIC). We used to have some music, quiz and other interesting sessions. Later it became a ritual and batch after batch celebrated these festivals at the institute till it has been closed in the new millennium and the owners left Chennai for another city.

Recently I read in ‘The Hindu’, an article titled ‘The dulled click-clack’ (https://www.thehindu.com/opinion/open-page/the-dulled-click-clack/article31259480.ece) wherein the author had visited his alma mater typewriting institute some 57 years hence, which actually inspired this blog.

Even if I wish to visit one of my institutes, for nostalgia sake, all the three have been closed eternally. So it’s just good memories and the art in itself that remained with me, despite the present darned keyboard I am using, which seems to be worser than that Underwood I started with.

Well folks, what do you think? Do let me know your thoughts!

Till then, 

Krutagjnatalu (Telugu), Nanri (Tamil), Dhanyavaadagalu (Kannada), Nanni (Malayalam), Dhanyavaad (Hindi), Dhanyosmi (Sanskrit), Thanks (English), Dhonyavaad (Bangla), Dhanyabad (Oriya), Gracias (Spanish), Grazie (Italian), Danke Schon (Deutsche), Merci (French), Obrigado (Portuguese), Shukraan (Arabic), Shukriya (Urdu), Bohoma Sthuthiyi (Sinhalese) Aw-koon (Khmer), Kawp Jai Lhai Lhai (Laotian), Kob Kun Krab (Thai),Asante (Kiswahili), Maraming Salamat sa Lahat (Pinoy-Tagalog-Filipino), Tack (Swedish), Fa'afetai (Samoan), Terima Kasih (Bahasa Indonesian) and Tenkyu (Tok Pisin of Papua New Guinea).

Hemantha Kumar Pamarthy

Chennai, India