nmalik121
May 6th, 2007, 12:05 PM
http://img516.imageshack.us/img516/3421/sandiu9.jpg
Life is a circle. Ultimately its start and end merge. I had the same feeling as I stood at the gates of my school. There was a time when I had put my baby steps on the school’s threshold when I was all of four 4 years. For a moment my mind went bank as I entered the gate. It was some local holiday, so the school was peopled by emptiness.
The large ground welcomed me with open arms. It felt like the ground chided me to play with the same intensity, excitement and joy that only an eight year old possesses. It was here that I learnt my first lessons of life: how to accept defeat with grace, how to enjoy the limitless pleasures in cricket matches played with classmates, how to deal with difficult people and how to grow….whew!
The ground was much smaller than it used to be. Or did I outgrow it? My heart bled to see the ground empty. During vacations, we used to spend entire days at the ground playing Cricket, Pitthu, Gulli-Danda, Bandar-Killa, Kabbadi, Kanches and what not! This ground has been a mute witness to my childhood, those innocent fights and funny illogical arguments with friends. In the evenings, there was hardly any space available for another pitch on the ground as 4 to 5 teams used to play simultaneously. We used to play till the ball disappeared in the darkness. After that all of us would go to water-tank soaked in sweat.
This emptiness in ground was killing me. I crossed the ground and entered into corridor. The corridor was quite dark with classes situated on either side. The doors were locked but windows were open. I peeped into the classroom through a half-open window. It immediately took back me to old days.
When I was in 9th class, there were more students and fewer benches. So some students had to adjust. Often four guys sat on a bench meant for three. The guy sitting on the extreme left was a very naive guy, those studious types, you know. The three of us, very shrewd and mischievous, we used to animatedly drag everyone toward the left side of the bench in free period. He would get irritated and leave the seat most of times. The moment he went away, we used to sit as usual with a cunning smile on our faces. His name was Amit Joshi, but was called by everyone as Joshi. It was strange since only the elder were called by their surnames like Mr. Arora, Mr. Sharma…..and so on. That was sheer fun.
We used to deface the benches with all kind of graffiti…and funny cartoons. Those silly pranks of pulling the bench back suddenly while the guy would try to sit. I’ve been the victim of this prank many times. The first reaction of everyone who would fall was to check how many guys had seen him falling and were laughing at him. I was no different. Every time I would repeat that next time I won’t fall prey to this prank played by one of the back benchers, but every time I would fall miserably. Remembering myself getting up and cleaning, it brought a “laugh-at-myself” smile on my face.
All those pranks and mushy crushes came to my mind instantly. We used to take part in extra-curricular activities like planting trees, feeding rabbits and ducks, and sports of course such as DADDU-DauD (In Punjabi Language, Mendak is called DADDU), running while putting a spoon in mouth and having a small potato on the spoon and many other funny games.
All day we discussed only cricket, marks in exams, girlfriends, teachers, and movies. I was getting sentimental now.
“Sonu beta…..what are you doing here alone?” a female voice broke my profound chain of thoughts. I turned back and found my mother standing behind me.
“Maa….have I come here earlier too?” I asked in a shocked state of mind.
“No my son, what are you talking about? It is first time we have been to Kolkata, it’s too late now, let’s go now, we will come tomorrow for admission,” Maa replied with a mixed tone of love and irritation.
Life is a circle. Ultimately its start and end merge. I had the same feeling as I stood at the gates of my school. There was a time when I had put my baby steps on the school’s threshold when I was all of four 4 years. For a moment my mind went bank as I entered the gate. It was some local holiday, so the school was peopled by emptiness.
The large ground welcomed me with open arms. It felt like the ground chided me to play with the same intensity, excitement and joy that only an eight year old possesses. It was here that I learnt my first lessons of life: how to accept defeat with grace, how to enjoy the limitless pleasures in cricket matches played with classmates, how to deal with difficult people and how to grow….whew!
The ground was much smaller than it used to be. Or did I outgrow it? My heart bled to see the ground empty. During vacations, we used to spend entire days at the ground playing Cricket, Pitthu, Gulli-Danda, Bandar-Killa, Kabbadi, Kanches and what not! This ground has been a mute witness to my childhood, those innocent fights and funny illogical arguments with friends. In the evenings, there was hardly any space available for another pitch on the ground as 4 to 5 teams used to play simultaneously. We used to play till the ball disappeared in the darkness. After that all of us would go to water-tank soaked in sweat.
This emptiness in ground was killing me. I crossed the ground and entered into corridor. The corridor was quite dark with classes situated on either side. The doors were locked but windows were open. I peeped into the classroom through a half-open window. It immediately took back me to old days.
When I was in 9th class, there were more students and fewer benches. So some students had to adjust. Often four guys sat on a bench meant for three. The guy sitting on the extreme left was a very naive guy, those studious types, you know. The three of us, very shrewd and mischievous, we used to animatedly drag everyone toward the left side of the bench in free period. He would get irritated and leave the seat most of times. The moment he went away, we used to sit as usual with a cunning smile on our faces. His name was Amit Joshi, but was called by everyone as Joshi. It was strange since only the elder were called by their surnames like Mr. Arora, Mr. Sharma…..and so on. That was sheer fun.
We used to deface the benches with all kind of graffiti…and funny cartoons. Those silly pranks of pulling the bench back suddenly while the guy would try to sit. I’ve been the victim of this prank many times. The first reaction of everyone who would fall was to check how many guys had seen him falling and were laughing at him. I was no different. Every time I would repeat that next time I won’t fall prey to this prank played by one of the back benchers, but every time I would fall miserably. Remembering myself getting up and cleaning, it brought a “laugh-at-myself” smile on my face.
All those pranks and mushy crushes came to my mind instantly. We used to take part in extra-curricular activities like planting trees, feeding rabbits and ducks, and sports of course such as DADDU-DauD (In Punjabi Language, Mendak is called DADDU), running while putting a spoon in mouth and having a small potato on the spoon and many other funny games.
All day we discussed only cricket, marks in exams, girlfriends, teachers, and movies. I was getting sentimental now.
“Sonu beta…..what are you doing here alone?” a female voice broke my profound chain of thoughts. I turned back and found my mother standing behind me.
“Maa….have I come here earlier too?” I asked in a shocked state of mind.
“No my son, what are you talking about? It is first time we have been to Kolkata, it’s too late now, let’s go now, we will come tomorrow for admission,” Maa replied with a mixed tone of love and irritation.