Ghettu's Blog

The first drop of tear shed by me in the school premises was wiped immediately by a warm hand, which had become rough from the toil over the years. The warm and comforting touch made me feel at home. I looked up in awe and amazement to see a round, pleasant face smiling at me in a way that bespoke of motherly affection. I was held by the hand and led to a room, my first classroom; the first room that prove to shelter my first year of education and confoundation. I saw a number of bewildered countenances, which looked familiar in a moment; because I could spot the same fear on their faces as well. Today, while writing this, I am reminded of a song which aptly describes the situation.

“And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people may be more
People talking without speaking 
People hearing without listening 
People writing songs that voices never shared
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence “

Yes, that gloomy silence prevailed. And those seemingly dumb people were my friends, my classmates. They were the strangers who became family over the course of the years. As I sat down on the first bench, I stared in amazement at the grandeur of the enormous white and blue walls. They seemed to smile at me. A sudden gust of wind blew my hair all over my face; it seemed to whisper into my ears the school’s implicit promise of being there for me to fall back on whenever I am in dire need of its support. My dried lips curved into a faint smile.

However, in the course of time, I started despising school like almost all other fellow people of my age group. Leaving my comfortable bed early in the morning and preparing myself for another day of grind was a pain that stung. I totally detested winters. Chilly winter mornings, the gloomy morning and school; I guess the deadliest combination ever, if not the most gruesome. The boring lectures, the chiding of the teachers, the burden of the “child-friendly” syllabus was a relentless torment.

And then, to add colour to my monotonous days came human beings who would co-exist harmoniously, like a rainbow. A multitude of colors, each layer vibrant and clear by itself, but in unison, boundless, breathtaking. The recess times are remembered as one of the fondest memories. Numerous dirty hands going into a small tiffin box and devouring its contents packed with homely warmth and affection. I am quite sure the pure bliss we experienced is something that no five-star restaurant can offer. The most crucial lectures delivered by the strictest of teachers had become our obvious platform for hysteria. One glance into our friends’ eyes, and all of us would start laughing effortlessly together. Getting punished together was another level of euphoria.

One quintessential aspect of school life which can’t go unmentioned is crushes and heartbreaks. With Dopamine on the rise and blood boiling adolescence; just one eye contact was enough to make one feel butterflies in their stomach. The world seemed to be a fantasy land. The most interesting fact about teenage crushes is that it is a potent mix of idealization and infatuation, paving the way for a wave of heartbreaks. The school has stood witness to a lot of unfortunate heartbreaks; the bathroom walls have patiently borne the torment of getting scribbled with bright names and the windows have served as an effective medium for futile love exchanges.

Vacations always seemed to be a boon. I felt that vacations always ended too early. Going to school after a long break seemed to be nothing less than a calamity. Then came the covid surge. The entire world was masked, fighting against an outrageous and life-taking disease. Lockdown was announced and schools were shut down. In spite of the increasingly tensile situation, I heaved a sigh of relief at the thought of being exempted from going to school.

At the drop of a hat, my school uniform changed from the blue one for juniors to the grey one for seniors. Had I really grown up? But did it actually matter, because I was even closer to passing out of school. I took up science and eventually career pressure, peer pressure built up. Sometimes, I felt lost. Things suddenly took a bitter turn and I felt deprived. But then, standing silently by the school corridors; vibing with my oldest friends, the school walls, felt therapeutic.

A few days back, while leaving for home, I saw a quite cranky kid crying, rather shouting at the top of his voice, clinging to his mother’s hands. It was his first day at school. I smiled to myself. Another journey of fourteen years begins. History repeats itself, and that is the problem with history. We keep thinking history happened to someone else; but history is where we came from. I could rest assured that the school would not perform any dereliction in nurturing the child, just as it had patiently nurtured me. The winds would speak the same gentle words of promise to the child as well.

Just then, I felt someone hugging me from the back. I turned around to see my juniors queued up behind me, tearful and sniveling. They handed me a handmade card. They said that they counted on me as their inspiration.

The school had given me much more than I deserved. Though my urge for freedom and stepping into the new world pushed me forward, a strange feeling of loneliness held me back. I knew the illusion of freedom was required to disguise the emptiness within me. Strangely enough, I wished for those boring lectures once again, those chilly winter mornings suddenly seemed to be so full of warmth. Wasn’t it too early to cut off the ties of friendship? Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born. Wasn’t it too early to depart from our worlds of amity? Had the tenure of the school’s promise ended? Wasn’t it too early to leave?