“You’re son is too slow. He doesn’t write much. The others write well, why won’t he?”, said my nursery class teacher to my mother. And that’s where it all began, SCHOOL, our second home. Believe me, its a cruel place, who has given them the rights to keep humongous parts of our sould without whom we cannot exist?
For fourteen long years I have felt every single humane emotion here. Brothers in disguise of friends and guides in disguise of teachers makes this experience (literally) once in a lifetime.
As soon as the day starts, there is this constant reminder,” School, School, School” ringing at the back of your heads until you tie your laces and set out for the day. On entering, those sun kissed and familiar refreshed faces surround you and start that same old discussion,” How many goals did that team concede?” or “ Do you know that this is this and its going to be that!” All kinds of bric a brac nonsensical stuff starts to fly about.
On comes the indistinct murmur during the assembly but everyone stands in attention rapt during the national anthem. An incredible sense of nationalism and energy sweeps past us as the assembly concludes and we head back to our classes with optimism.
Worst part during the early stages is your name being called twice during the attendance, you are gone for!
Let’s face it! The first period never happens(xD). Slowly but steadily passes all the classes and on comes the lunch break. If you aren’t those ”boyesh hoe gache vai….” people, break time is freedom.
But before that, important business is to be taken care of, “TIFFIN”. Within a blink of an eye all the colourful containers lose its content. All the martyrs and warriors return after the break while the class has already started. The short break, is indeed too short. Its used to sort up the curious cases of cumbersome connections. Amidst all these lies the occasional “get out of the class”, “may i go to toilet” and much much more.
Time and tides wait for none, when that last period bells rings all is in a hurry to get home as sson as possible to attend the tuition or the post-school beauty sleep. Its easy to put pen to paper and scribble on but in reality its different. Having written all these , let me tell you it won’t be the same again as tomorrow is the dreaded last day. I don’t know how is it going to be when i step into that class or that bell rings for the last time. So, let’s cross our hearts and enjoy the moments as it comes.
Thank you friends and family.
Thank you teachers.
Thank you Methodist.
Thank you Pearls of God.
That’s my little tribute to school life. I tried to write something.
thank you for reading!