Boredom. That one thing that has conquered most part of my life, already. There is no particular part of the day, which defines the time this thing needs to creep into me. Nonetheless, I know what it takes to get it out of me, no matter how much time it takes to shed “the thing” away. A cup of coffee and my balcony. Coffee, because it’s Coffee and my balcony, because it offers the most splendid view of my very own school, especially at dusk when the sky is orange and the school stands below, facing my balcony, facing me..
One sip of coffee and one look at my school.. as effortless as it can get, it is by far, the best way to re-stimulate me. It is an experience, that is periodical and one, which manages to unleash my emotional side, which is perhaps why I spend more time there than anywhere else in my house. A glance at the magnificent walls is just what it takes to bring back all those memories of the blissful moments I spent in school, behind those walls, in those classrooms.
There were two blackboards in a classroom, green boards actually. The one on the left was gridded and the other on the right, plain green, the one that was more frequently used by most of the teachers, except math of course. She preferred the left one. It made the subject more mathematical she said. Reading the numbers through those white criss-cross lines was unnerving though, which none of us dared to tell her. Well, those were the times we would think a hundred times before complaining about anything, especially if it had something to do with the mannerisms of the teacher. We wouldn’t think at all, in that case. At that point of time, the mind was an epitome of what was usual and expected in children, something that was called innocence.
We accepted what was taught to us. We actually “studied” the stuff that was given to us, in prescribed textbooks. Today, if someone claims to have “studied” something, it is either considered a joke, or he or she becomes outcast. And prescribed textbooks.. One, there is nothing “prescribed”. Two, there is either one textbook alone or no textbook at all. A bunch of photocopies is just what is needed, not a month before the exams, not a week, but a day or two before. If you are spotted with the photocopies a month before the exams, again, outcast.
I remember those times in school when we approached the Days, the special ones, the Annual Day, Parents’ Day, Sports Day and the like. In my school, we had those mass drills that were religiously followed before every Sports Day, when books remained in our bags for several fortnights and we galloped our way to the Raymond Ground, every morning after Prayers. The actual Sports Day would end rather emotionally for the tenth graders, who dreaded the fact that this was THE last Sports Day of their lives. It happened to me too. A while ago, I was at the centre of the ground, singing the National Anthem, and the next moment I felt like someone actually let me free and I was escaping reluctantly into a new world, which perhaps did not wait for me, like school did, when I took my first steps into it. This world did not know me. I had to introduce myself to it. I had to pave my way through it, all alone. There was no school. There were no teachers. It was going to be me, and only me, for the rest of my life. And when this truth struck me that day, I closed my eyes and shed a tear. Not that I did not live my school life to the fullest. It was this truth that brought tears, the truth that School life was a life within a life. And here I was, amidst my teachers, my Principal, my friends, not knowing how much time it would take to thank each and every one of them, but knowing for a fact that they were the ones who were truly responsible for what I was today and what I would be tomorrow. As I ran a glance from one end of the ground to the other, I saw faces of everyone, who had shared a moment or many moments with me, at some point of time, at some corner of the school. I felt like walking back to school and treading my way through the corridors, passing by each classroom and reliving every moment that I had spent in that mansion.
So, here I am, in this new world, which knows me like it knows a billion others and is asking me to be a part of it, to live the ups and downs, to make me meet others like me, who had abandoned a life some years ago, only to enter into this one. It is true that everything that happens, happens for a reason. The life I live today has a reason. I am living it to put to use what the life in school had taught me. The life that I spent in school had a reason. I was living it, unknowingly, to learn to live this life of mine, which perhaps is the actual life that we need to live. A life, that has no teachers, no prayers, no discipline. To live this life, we need a teacher in us, a prayer in us and a discipline in us….
One sip of coffee and one look at my school.. as effortless as it can get, it is by far, the best way to re-stimulate me. It is an experience, that is periodical and one, which manages to unleash my emotional side, which is perhaps why I spend more time there than anywhere else in my house. A glance at the magnificent walls is just what it takes to bring back all those memories of the blissful moments I spent in school, behind those walls, in those classrooms.
There were two blackboards in a classroom, green boards actually. The one on the left was gridded and the other on the right, plain green, the one that was more frequently used by most of the teachers, except math of course. She preferred the left one. It made the subject more mathematical she said. Reading the numbers through those white criss-cross lines was unnerving though, which none of us dared to tell her. Well, those were the times we would think a hundred times before complaining about anything, especially if it had something to do with the mannerisms of the teacher. We wouldn’t think at all, in that case. At that point of time, the mind was an epitome of what was usual and expected in children, something that was called innocence.
We accepted what was taught to us. We actually “studied” the stuff that was given to us, in prescribed textbooks. Today, if someone claims to have “studied” something, it is either considered a joke, or he or she becomes outcast. And prescribed textbooks.. One, there is nothing “prescribed”. Two, there is either one textbook alone or no textbook at all. A bunch of photocopies is just what is needed, not a month before the exams, not a week, but a day or two before. If you are spotted with the photocopies a month before the exams, again, outcast.
I remember those times in school when we approached the Days, the special ones, the Annual Day, Parents’ Day, Sports Day and the like. In my school, we had those mass drills that were religiously followed before every Sports Day, when books remained in our bags for several fortnights and we galloped our way to the Raymond Ground, every morning after Prayers. The actual Sports Day would end rather emotionally for the tenth graders, who dreaded the fact that this was THE last Sports Day of their lives. It happened to me too. A while ago, I was at the centre of the ground, singing the National Anthem, and the next moment I felt like someone actually let me free and I was escaping reluctantly into a new world, which perhaps did not wait for me, like school did, when I took my first steps into it. This world did not know me. I had to introduce myself to it. I had to pave my way through it, all alone. There was no school. There were no teachers. It was going to be me, and only me, for the rest of my life. And when this truth struck me that day, I closed my eyes and shed a tear. Not that I did not live my school life to the fullest. It was this truth that brought tears, the truth that School life was a life within a life. And here I was, amidst my teachers, my Principal, my friends, not knowing how much time it would take to thank each and every one of them, but knowing for a fact that they were the ones who were truly responsible for what I was today and what I would be tomorrow. As I ran a glance from one end of the ground to the other, I saw faces of everyone, who had shared a moment or many moments with me, at some point of time, at some corner of the school. I felt like walking back to school and treading my way through the corridors, passing by each classroom and reliving every moment that I had spent in that mansion.
So, here I am, in this new world, which knows me like it knows a billion others and is asking me to be a part of it, to live the ups and downs, to make me meet others like me, who had abandoned a life some years ago, only to enter into this one. It is true that everything that happens, happens for a reason. The life I live today has a reason. I am living it to put to use what the life in school had taught me. The life that I spent in school had a reason. I was living it, unknowingly, to learn to live this life of mine, which perhaps is the actual life that we need to live. A life, that has no teachers, no prayers, no discipline. To live this life, we need a teacher in us, a prayer in us and a discipline in us….
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1 comment:
harrumphh (you know what that was for...)
anyway, nice conclusion.
and i want coffee too...
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