MOST in our batch stayed five years from Form 1 to Form 5 before getting on planes bound for Australia, New Zealand, the UK or USA (the science stream of course, leaving the arts stream to fight for places at local unis). Some only stayed two years joining in Form 4 and leaving after MCE, or joining in Form 6 for the two years prior to tertiary level.

                     But, there were some who stayed the full seven years from 1967 to 1973. This was the maximum a budak kolej could have as his KK sojourn, unless he belonged to that exclusive club which stretched beyond seven years; in our batch, Mael stayed eight years after his one-year stint as an American Field Service student and he was rewarded with head prefectship after all of us had left. But none can beat the record held by our senior Joe Bakar who stayed much longer as he had joined Kolej even before Form 1 back then!

                     But, as stated in the Foreword, we never actually left kolej; it followed us until today as evident by the mannerisms we still exhibit. Test: at a MCOBA dinner, what is the likelihood of a poor wife being ‘abandoned’ by her kolej husband who would rather be in the company of his brothers reminiscing the good old days of nasi kawah and bung wak in KK?

                     Those who stayed on till Sixth Form had the privilege of taking a subject called GP which tested one’s intelligence quite differently from the rote learning of the other papers. Form Six was super senior year which earned some standing among budak kolej.

                     The battle scars would be proudly shown for how could the juniors appreciate what we went through which included defiant protest against authority for stale fish (the infamous ‘terbalikkan pinggan’ incident in the dining hall), throwing the ketchup bottle into the empty swimming pool after finding out it was diluted with water by the canteen operator, the dreaded squash court treatment meted on recalcitrant juniors (members of Crook Tojo got a taste when they were hustled inside the court and lights went off before legs and hands went a-flying), smoking in the art studio courtesy of a liberal and understanding art teacher from getting away with the corporal punishment while laughing at friends who got caned for smoking as the mantra then was: it’s not the smoking that is wrong, it’s the getting caught that is.

WHO could forget that quip from Mr Gupta one day as he was making his rounds at the Pavilion: If you all have to smoke, please use the ashtray.

                     One year at the Pavilion proved to be a steep learning curve as we approached adulthood. After the Form I stint at Prep School and five more years changing dormitories at Big School, the stay at Pavilion when we reached Upper VI in 1973 was sheer magical. By that time, there were not many of us left, probably around 60 or 70, the rest having moved on after MCE to pursue studies elsewhere. Some lucky ones, especially those top scorers in Science stream, left to study abroad in either Australia or England on full scholarships. Good for them. And there we were, the remnants who did Form VI. Among us, quite a few were prefects. So they had to be assigned to stay and be in charge of Big School dormitories. Shuk, Anuar, Idrus and Hashim were Prep School prefects.

                     For the rest of us, Pavilion was our home and it proved to be a discovery.Prior to this, we could only watch in envy how the Sixth Formers were given more leeway at Pavilion. No lights out, no Saturday inspection, no particular time for prep, special town leave and many other small privileges. But, it was more than all this that made it all so wonderful. It was the camaraderie and the intimacy of our companionship, struck within the few months we spent together, that was fabulous. Sam, as deputy headboy, was the prefect in charge of the Pavilion and his room occupied the central part of the upper floor. Oh, how we spent time in this little "hideout" like a common room. Sam's trust in his friends was so deep that whenever he was out, he would place the slide key to his "apartment" at one hidden corner outside the door, known to many of us, so that we could gain access at any time we wanted. Inside were things like a radio, record player, records, cassettes, two guitars, books and magazines that kept us coming back. Some used this hideout as a smoking den though Sam never smoked. Sue Sidek, one year our senior, but, who had to sit for HSC the same year as us, also stayed in the same room as Sam. And he would play the guitar and sing along whenever we played our favourite records -- Cat Stevens, Donovan, Elton John, etc.

                     This part of the Pavilion proved to be such a hit that the Prep School prefects and headboy Megat also spent a large part of their time here, sometimes sleeping over. Mael J, who had to be in Lower VI in 1973 because of his AFS stint, also made Pavilion his base. Of course, for Megat it must have been his urge and excuse to glance over the window and watch people go by Jalan Station below, especially if sweetheart Yong were to pass by. For some uncanny reasons, Megat liked to sing "Tie A Yellow Ribbon." Nazri, a prefect at Big School, would drop by as well at times. And so did Salleh Taib. Life was very different from the bell-centric routines in Big School and we were feeling the biological and psychological changes as we turned 19 going on 20. The brotherhood grew deeper that we shared many things, even food and cigarettes. We did not feel odd at all as we showered in the communal bathrooms without doors. Apham, Jiman Dollah, Azhar Wahab, Tahar, Nasir Taib, Adzhair, Zamani, Zul Salleh, Charlie, Mat Jepun Air - we never had it so good.

                     One of the most memorable occasions was when we organised a trip to STF and TKC in the Old Faithful. We stopped in KL, then proceeded to Seremban where the TKC girls organised some events.

                     The best thing was we did not have to stay in a hotel. Guess where we put up then? At Hashim Harun's house in Serkam Malacca. The whole bunch, including Sandy the accompanying teacher! But, it was lovely as the family was so hospitable. In JB the pit stop was Mat Set's house overlooking Lido Beach! Again we squeezed in, some sleeping in the porch, some in the bus. We came back all the wiser and became so much closer.

IN 1973 we reached Upper VI, the ultimate year in our schooling period. There were 50 of us in Upper VI including Suhaimi Sidek who was from Batch 1970, but, took his HSC with us and excluding Mael Jambu, who had left for the US under the AFS Scholarship. With 17 prefects in the batch, there were 33 of us staying in the Pavilion.

                     As the number was small we only occupied the four dormitories on the Upper Floor. Life was pretty quiet and mellow. The sound from Deep Purple's Machine Head was replaced by the fatherly soothing sound of Cat Steven's Tea For The Tillerman. Lalena by Donovan had replaced Uriah Heep's July Morning as the favourite song sung while taking our shower.

                     This was the life of MCKK's senior citizens respected by both teachers and juniors as the College elder statesmen. The small number gave us the opportunity to savor the wonderful high table food every month.

                     The amount of respect given by the teachers can be seen by how Mr. Gupta our Advisor treated us. "I know some of you smoke and I cannot stop you from smoking, but, have the decency to put the butts and the ashes in the ash trays." This was his comment when he did his first inspection round. Subsequently whenever he wanted to inspect the dorm he would warn us before hand and requested that we hid all the ash trays.

                     We still jumped the fence at night. Instead of taking the long walk to the tuck shop, we preferred the Indian stall beside the railway station for supper. Sometimes we were caught by the teachers while having our meals. Instead of sending us to DC they would save us the long walk by driving us back.

                     Once in a while, noises would erupt. For instance, two Silat exponents 'naik syeh' when a few newly-minted juniors booed us. We also boycotted the Old Boys Weekend when they decided that our soccer was not good enough. Some went into big business by importing, through the Vajiravudh connection, long-sleeved T-shirts from Bangkok.

                     That was the life of the senior citizens. None replaced the Crook Tojo and the Dirty Dozen of the Form Five days. We were just preparing and getting ready for Cat Stevens's "It's A Wild World."

SOMETIMES, our circle of friends extended beyond the college fences and, as our ages passed the mid-teens, the acquiantances inevitably included those from the opposite sex.

                     The mere mention of KK Girls, as these friends were often referred to, would get some of us really excited. Yeah, of course. An all-boys school, what do you expect?

                     Girls from GEGS, the lasses from Bukit Chandan and that special one who lived near the KK railway station. This beauty would pass by the Big School and Pavilion on certain occasions. She walked with so much grace like a model and for some undisclosed reasons, we could only admire from afar.

                     When we were in Form V, a few of us organised a party at the bachelor teachers' old bungalow next to Nadarajah's house (on the street that led to Rex). And what a party it turned out to be as quite a number of KK gals came, all dressed for the occasion. So were we, as wet-look shirts, scarves and bell-bottoms came out of the closet. Psychedelic paintings were brought from the Art Room as decorations. Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple music filled the air. A few of us got more intimate than the rest. Period.

                     Then in Upper VI, as confidence grew, it was us who got invitations to attend parties, the best parties in town. One such reception was in Bukit Chandan just next to Istana Iskandariah and it so happened that we had just completed our HSC. It was such fun as the host's parents were so sporting.

                     Rich girl. But you know how we got to the party? We took the prebet sapu of course, from behind Hollywood.

MCKK always lost to their Thai counterparts, except for one occasion many years later, when our All Blacks trounced Vajiravudh; Rosli Razak’s son Mohd Yazli, was one of the stars of this rare victory.

                     A British import, rugby was perceived to be a rough game, where one is more prone to injury, as there is wider body contact. However, it was a game to build character as one learnt to be patient in a scrum or loose ball situation. The game seemed rough, but, in essence it teaches the basics of survival, protection and team support. Unlike soccer, a rugger player can also contribute effectively even without having the ball, as a good tackle is as valuable as a try if it managed to stop an impending attack. Tackling takes skill and courage, and even with the best of intentions, the person being tackled may not tumble that easily: picture a massive Samoan on the move with two Malalysian cobras holding on to him in an ineffective tackle.

                     Anyone who has played a decent game of rugby will appreciate the tremendous satisfaction of having taken part in a hallowed tradition brought in by the Scots and Welsh during the colonial period. Rugger has an avid following in Commonwealth countries, and being a budak kolej afforded the opportunity to play the game, or just enjoy it.

                     Character building is seen in a first timer’s attempt to catch the rugby ball, the oblong object that behaves with a mind of its own when kicked high up, the player trembling at the sight of this object hurtling back to earth when he has to brace himself and catch it properly, or suffer the ignominy of a knock on.