Report of the OS lunch in London of 18 May 2025.

This year‘s annual OS lunch in London was held as usual on the third Sunday of May, on 18th May 2025.

We met at an old haunt, the newly refurbished Bombay Palace restaurant in Connaught Street, near Marble Arch.

Aruna Mongia Sharma (NGD 1967) was once again in active charge. Aruna, her husband Max Mongia , Chingpi Robjent Tunsing (NGD. 1969), Shalini Grover (VGD1988) and your reporter ( Harbans Nagpal NBD 1964) arrived early, in some disarray because an important job had not been done. We five had been trying desperately over the previous 48 hours to find some plastic name badges for the guests, instead of sticky paper labels to be fixed on your lapel or blouse. This was a long-standing gripe because these sticky labels would fall off half the time , or not stick at all. And so for two days we had been hunting for these badges desperately, in Aruna‘s London suburb, in Shalini‘s Kent countryside, online by courrier, and on this Sunday morning in central London. All to no avail.

Imagine our relief to arrive at the restaurant and find, neatly laid out at the entrance table, 20 or so name badges , each with the guest’s full name, house and year of passing neatly written.

All this was the work of our chapter head Akshay Dalal ( NBD 2008), who himself alas could not attend. He had just become a father and was in Dubai, close to his family who live there. He was going to join us, but developed a last minute administrative problem with his passport. So, diligently, from Dubai, he had mobilized the restaurant manager to buy the right badges and sent him the guest list to make the precious labels. Hugely relieved, with our badges securely pinned to our chests, ( no need to hold it anxiously with your hand on your chest), we headed to the bar for a celebratory drink. Our first toast was to Akshay for getting the badges arranged and for becoming a new father.

The refurbished restaurant looked much as before, with a bar and several dining rooms. It was brightly lit, with large floor to ceiling windows looking onto the street.

But today we did not need a view to the street outside. Our vistas for this afternoon were of snow peaked mountains and colorful sunsets behind Monkey Point. Yes. To come to a Sanawar meeting is to leave behind your normal world of traffic jams, boring afternoons and political strife. And to come to the memories of quirky buildings, misty monsoons and hilly paths. These memories make for the conviviality of our lunches. You are children of the same lovely land, and all of equal age.

At the bar we were soon joined by others, at first in ones and twos, and then quickly the room had filled up. It was a smaller gathering than in previous years, some 18 people in all. This seemed plenty big for your reporter, but Max Mongia, with wide experience from his 85 years , remarked that you need bigger numbers to sustain the peaks and troughs of passing years. So this reminder to all London OS, do note for next year, the London lunch is on the third Sunday of May 2026, on 17 May 2026. Attention : there are five Sundays in May 2026. Don’t leave it vague, make a note in your diary.

One person who remembered this formula of third Sunday of May was Sanjeev Suri ( NBD 1977). Sanjeev, dressed in browns which matched the sheen of his abundant hair, introduced himself as a businessman passing through London. Sanjeev has businesses in India, the UAE and Nigeria and keeps an apartment in central London as a second home. This had been lying empty since it was bought many years ago. It seems it has come to life at last, helping Sanjeev to attend this lunch.

Once assembled we were shepherded into a private dining room. There were three tables for us, but we managed to squeeze onto just the two of them, rather than be spread out on three tables. At your reporter’s round table there were seven of us, a convenient number to make conversation. The starters were served to us by polite Indian waiters in small individual helpings: a meat kofta, some cholas, a chat papadi , a samosa and many other little items of street food, coming one after the other, with pauses in between. It was an unusual way to be served street food in small, tasty helpings. It allowed for conversation between the items and a check on gluttony.

Seated on your reporter’s left was Kavita Hinduja (HGD 1969). Kavita, a general’s daughter, had a bright, generous presence. We heard from her how, when she was 12 years old, she had been a difficult, turbulent child and her parents did not know what to do with her. So through army friendships they took her to Sanawar, to meet Major Somdutt. In the Head Master’s residence, after a short talk, Major Somdutt said to the parents: “Kavita is just the kind of girl we like to have in Sanawar” and gave her a place right away. He was right. Kavita did well at school ( head girl) and in life (Kenya, Portugal , India, Uk ) and here she was ,60 years later, with bright, friendly eyes and measured conversation.

Next to Kavita was seated Chingpi ( NGD 1969). Both of them were of the same batch and so were able to exchange stories, names and incidents. Chingpi herself was one of three brilliant siblings in Sanawar at the same time. Her older brother, Vunga Tunsing ( NBD 1967) , was a great sportsman and head prefect. And there was a younger sister in school too. Lucky three! Chingpi was of a very cheerful disposition and easy to talk to. After Sanawar, she had been married to a pilot in the UK, travelled a lot and brought up two children. One daughter is presently working for an NGO in Iraq. Widowed, Chingpi lives alone in a cottage outside Bristol. She knows Aruna Mongia well and so we hope she will join us at this lunch every year.

Next to her was seated Girija Kynaston Lal ( HGD 1967). Girija was also close to Chingpi and Kavita in years. So the three of them were soon in deep conversation. Girija comes often and makes a lovely contribution by coming dressed in a silk sari. She is always accompanied graciously by her English husband Tony Kynaston. Girija and her family moved a lot after Sanawar ( Nigeria, USA) but she came to be settled in the UK in 1973. She has three sons, one of whom is presently teaching in Vietnam. Her husband Tony now has old friends amongst us. Today he was doing his duty of talking to the several single girls at our lunch, a duty he was performing with success and quite some enjoyment. Thank goodness for our non-Sanawarian guests and spouses, who liven up our lunches.

On your reporter’s right was the only British old timer present at our lunch this time. James Coombes passed out in 1954. He saw the school change from 1947 when it was an old British school to 1954 by when the school had already changed hands to the new Indian staff. He had had Mr. Kemp as his chemistry teacher and Mr. Gore as his maths teacher. His father had been the senior master of the school and his mother, the geography teacher. After passing out from Sanawar, James became a maths teacher in the UK. He has many friends and family connections in India. We thank him heartily and hope other pre-1950 old-timers will join us next year.

After the several small first courses had been consumed , we were invited to help ourselves at the buffet for the main course. On offer was a small choice of vegetarian and nonvegetarian Indian recipes, with rice and nan breads. There was just enough variety to be able to fit each delicious item on your plate. The simplicity, compared to previous years, was somehow welcome.

At this second course, we were invited by Aruna Mongia to change tables and circulatepsychiatrist a little amongst ourselves.

And so your reporter had the pleasure of sharing the second course with several new people. While he tucked into the tasty food an interesting conversation was raging between Sanjeev Suri and Max Mongia. Sanjeev recounted how his wife had opened a psychiatric clinic in Rohtak and had been waiting for over a year to be checked by the various ministries before they would grant her her final clearances. No reason was given for this delay, and the psychiatrist sister was losing lakhs of rupees waiting to start work. So the discussion was about the inefficiency and corruption of the Indian administration. But Max Mongia, who manufactures aviation equipment in his medium sized UK company, said he had had a quite different experience with the defence procurement bureaucracy of the Indian government. His conclusion was: “in 50 years of doing business worth millions of pounds, I have never had to pay a single rupee in bribes to anybody”. Your reporter was surprised and comforted to hear this opinion. It also chimed with his own experience as the son of an Air Force officer. He never saw an Air Force officer making it on the side. So although it is a popular opinion, that everything is all corrupt up at the top, one also has to admit that things do get done in India, often quite quickly and well, without bribes and inducements. But as Joan Robinson, a leading Cambridge professor of economics, who grew up in India, once said: « anything you say about India, can also be said in its exact opposite , and be equally true! » Such is our varied land.

In the middle of his second course, your reporter had to say goodbye to Rachit Kinger (VBD 2001) a young man in his 40s who had to leave early. Rachit had been in the Merchant Navy, on the shore based training ship, Chanakya. But after his first naval career, Rachit had become a theater journalist and taken a literary line. As your reporter is the chair of the Old Sanawarian Poetry Circle, he was quick to take Rachit’s email, to invite him to join our circle.

On your reporter’s left was another young man, Ish Joshi (HBD 1989), sporting a salt and pepper beard and in good cheer. After reading physics, chemistry and maths at St Stephen’s College in Delhi, he did an MBA and became a management consultant. He now has a six person team and is doing very well in London.

Near your reporter was seated Shalini Grover ( VGD 1988). Shalini is a dynamic forty something year-old mother of two teenage boys, and with her Finnish husband lives in the countryside of Kent. She has a high-powered academic job at the London School of Economics. But today she was Acting Assistant to Anu Mongia, welcoming our guests, introducing them to each other and generally making conversations flow. Shalini is a reformer who wants to change the world for the better. Today she made our lunch a little better.

Opposite us, in ponytail, with a fresh face and bright smile, was one of the youngest OS of the day, Ms Yashaswini Singh (NGD 2014). We gathered that she was on a creative writing fellowship for one year in London. She had worked in a large international company as an advertising copywriter for some years, and this seemed to be some kind of a sabbatical for her in London. Copy writers are the real poets of our time. They craft punchy words to fit situations and subjects, with constraints tighter than any sonnet. As the chair of the Old Sanawarian Poetry Circle your reporter quickly took her address too, to recrute her to our circle. The old sanawarian Poetry Circle meets by Zoom every second Wednesday of the month at 9:30 PM Indian standard time. Calculate your time difference wherever you are in the world and join us. A link for the subsequent seven meetings of the year are posted below.

On your reporter’s right, dressed in a chic beige trouser suit, was Tanya Ghuman ( NGD 2013). Tanya had an enjoyable air of seriousness about her, unsmiling but all there. She had joined Sanawar late , only for the sixth form, after topping the entrance exam. She joined Sanawar in opposition to her father‘s wishes, an unusual situation. After Sanawar, Tanya continued to be a high flyer, working as a consultant in brand development in Bombay and Dubai, till she came to the UK in 2023. Speaking to Tanya, single, elegant, intelligent and serious, your reporter thought if only we had had some more of our high flying bachelor OS present today. But Tanya did not seem to be missing anybody and was in high demand at our table.

Arriving a little late, and so seated on the third table, was a young couple with a baby. These were Aasheena Verma (SGD 2011) , her husband Chaitanya Chauhan, and their seven month old baby boy Agastya Singh, dressed stylishly in a high, straw hat. Even though they arrived a little late they added colour, warmth and a sense of family to our lunch.

Aasheena was the daughter of the school hospital Nurse, Sister Mrs. Shashi Verma ( 1988 to 2021). So Aasheena grew up in the school hospital and Kasauli where her father worked. Her husband, Chaitanya Chauhan was an engineer from Simla. Now can you get more proximal to Sanawar than that?

Aasheena graduated as an engineer from Delhi and then joined Deloitte in 2015. She has been posted to Deloitte in the UK since 2021.

Talking to Aasheena, your reporter was reminded of the school hospital. It is surely one of the prettiest buildings in Sanawar ( second only to the wooden post office behind Barne Hall). To old sanawarians the hospital has special connotations, of yearly checkups, the MI room with its odour of iodine, and perhaps a few days of illness, spent in the high ceiling ward of the hospital. During founders old sanawarians were often given beds in the school hospital, sometimes overflowing into the very primitive tin huts. These tin huts were quarantine wards for children with infectious diseases who needed to be isolated. The hospital is a marvelous piece of 19 century, British army architecture: functional, simple, with elegant proportions.

And so in the midst of these conversations and memories of our pretty school, Aruna Mongia called us all to attention. She apologized for the absence of our chapter head, Akshay Dalal, explaining how he had been delayed in Dubai without his passport. She then asked us to observe a minute’s silence for the old sanawarians who had passed away in the previous year. Two important names were mentioned, of Jugnu Singh and Richard Mountford. ( see links to obituaries below ). After this grave moment, we stood up to sing the school song. It was a fine rendering , helped in part by the smaller gathering. After the song we wanted to linger and loiter, in the corridors and dormitories of our school. But not so it could be. Bracing ourselves, we met the real world outside, bringing our precious little afternoon to a humble close.

***

Harbans Nagpal. NBD 1956-64.