in a cute sense of fear of a strict teacher, I ran like a chick into my class,
As soon as the bell rang, I tried to be the first one to step out of the school.
Dude, believe me I ran faster than Usain Bolt that time… :-p
How I carved those desks, sitting alone, watching like nobody is watching me and then writing the name of my crush and then tried to erase it completely so that no Byomkesh Bakshi can even doubt my hand writing !!
Passing smile at each other radiated the top secrets and eyes that spoke so much!
Every thing had the exact pleasure, i wanted
It was all about joy and friendship…
Alas! I can’t pull the rope again…
I have lost the tug of war against time
I wish I had a time machine!
These are the kind of words, the stuff I heard from my fellow guys and girls.
Yes, they would put to words, those dazzling moments the same way.
I have never been one of such personalities. I too have missed my friends, have written the memories on the page of life with the ink of friendship. Such memories that if i begin to spell, would make it to days…
But still, that’s not all i can think of and write about when i sneak into the scent of those mesmerizing days…
Rather than friends and fun only,
I always have and forever will…miss the vibes that kissed my very being the first day i put my first feat to that beautiful building, my school.
The way, we friends shared the food
And sometimes, those little stealings from the lunch box that contributed so much to the innocence phenomena…
But soon, the tables we joined to come closer to friends, to converge with them, to enjoy the meal…turned to the disfigured wood mangled with the compasses and sharp pencils that reflected our secrets!
I can sense the pain of those whooping desks…
Oh! those classroom walls…
Full of charts and hey! there hung my chart, that one of the walls did hold when i won my first chart making competition.
But as the time passed, the walls were stamped by the dirty shoes.
I can perceive the tears it shed.
What to say about the playgrounds!
Where our egos burst screaming! when they saw us lending hands to our oppositions and friends.
This way, we fed the white spirits in us with the delicious meal of sportsmanship.
Time has been growing and,
It has been
And i still, when pass by my school or come closer to that area, get goosebumps!
And then that overwhelming brimming out feeling again! when i put my first step into that building again.
It feels like it has its own cosmos, it hugs me with all the affection it can afford. I go to my classroom again like that kid Usain Bolt with the same spilling out enthusiasm and excitement!
I reach my classroom breathing heavily and read the label stuck to the wall ’10th A1′ and smile… 🙂
It was none less than a child that runs for his chocolate and never gets tired.
I enter and see, the blackboard that prepared me for life! the The chalk box, my teacher’s cupboard, the podium where my nervousness magically centrifugated to the confidence i earned after the first speech i gave… those desks, the same wall.
An impulse in me was finally cherished…
Full of tears,
Once again as i was sent to school the first day,
Slowly sat on the desks,
I lent my ear to it and it spoke to me my childhood.
“Oye aaj tu kya laaya hai?” (What did u bring today in lunch box)
“Aaj mamma ne ye bheja hai” (today mom sent this)
“Yaar ye to meri favourite sabzi hai (hey this is favourite meal)
“Kamine thoda kam kha” (You dog! eat less :-p )
“Baaki sabko milega par tujhe ni dunga ( All others will get some meal, except you )
All those voices it kept within it, it just transmitted into me and brought to me an immense happiness!
Then, i hug that wall.
Sometimes, it is damn cold!
But it has a warmth that has given life to my days…everything I crave for!
I come to my playground, turned around, imagine all those scenes playing like an emotional movie in my head…and i breathe in the vicinity…
I mean, my school was – A home away from home.
It has made me realize that there is nothing more beautiful than childhood and essence…
Essence is the mother of all memories… 🙂
They are rare that miss the ‘school’,
others just missed it…
So people must think, when they say they miss their school.
Because most of them miss their peers….
So which of the two,
Do you miss often…
The classmates, the school, or both?