Remember the good old days? The fight to go to school every morning? Getting late every day and god those morning assemblies, those applauds given to certain kids my whole school life on stage and that false hope given by the principal "better luck next time", school ended, that time didn't really come, standing back there we were busy having fun.
Those last benches felt like home, sleeping in classes and getting scolded, didn't study the whole year still had no fear, realized how relentless we were when being sent out of the classroom felt more like a blessing than detention.
We were the one having lunch before time even getting caught but we pigheaded never changed, going to the washroom in every other half and we had a fear of only one teacher always taking an extra class.
Trying to impress the new girl in class even though I never had a chance, surely made a fool of myself a number of times but who cares that was an act of bravery that too without getting high, damn I was shy.
Those five minutes of excitement, amusement and instant clattering all over the classroom between the change of teachers, no one one could hold getting up and take a walk around and the sudden lightening silence with the entrance of the other teacher and like always those two idiots being caught still wandering and rambling around.
Twelve years passed couldn't get the lab coats and wear our identity cards, why such unnecessary demands? Still, remember being sent to the principal's office for not doing my homework for 6 months straight, I am sorry I was running a little late.
They give us something they call school almanac in the starting of every year, for fake medical leaves and registering our complaints in those last pages, things it taught me was to sign my father's name and convince him that he signed it himself once I get caught.
The entire week we used to wait for that one hour of peace and pleasure called "P.T", we all were in the fear of that teacher again always standing out of the classroom just before this godly hour, every week we had this fight for our rights and at times when we successfully reach the playground and the fat coach sends us back on her request, made us all cry.
Then comes the time of the year when there was school annual function, the day of the event was just awaited but every moment, every attempt to make it right, the hard work, the stage, no matter what your part was; the lead or just a tree in my case, it will always be counted because it was you being part of something bigger than yourself, your parents would still be excited to come and see you standing there, your siblings would ruthlessly mock you though. The event went successfully every year and execution was appreciated and forgotten but the backstage memories are still cherished.
Parents-teacher meeting the terror they created may be the only reason why scoring was more important than understanding, hardly appreciated here but again who cares? Yes, we
faced the upshot of our act, promised everyone we would change but again someone opened the tiffin before the break.
Years passed there was no one to take another class, all the fears are left in that room, the last bench gossip was not yet completed, the morning fight was over, the canteen debt was forgiven, finding a way to get in again but I guess this time we are just too late.
Himanshu Narang
Himanshu Narang
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