A school time to remember.



Years after when I went there, I didn’t see any familiar faces. The strange building, which, once was not, welcomed me with a bagful of memories. Walking across that veranda, for a retrospection ,or may be not, memories flooded my mind.

It all started here; when the life was full of possibilities with limitless freedom ,but always willing to give you a second chance. The schooling period of life is indeed the golden era of this paradoxical journey called life.

The innocent faces with inquisitive looks that you mauls you from the moment you enter the class late, to the relief for agony when that long bell ring in the evening: I miss them all.

Unannounced tests that make your heart pump faster to nearby answer sheet that doesn’t tally; I dare not think about the day when mistakes of those private answers were made public with a slight humiliation in front of 42 pair of eyes. But still I miss them all.


5 minutes break that falls for less or more time, in between the teachers that come and go, to the arguments which seemed like the never ending battle for world dominion. The commotion when asked about the assignments that test your physical stamina to zero periods that was for, say, doing nothing. I miss them all.

Unholy white dress on Wednesday to make your day with a mass PT to the rounds of jogging around the ground before the chaotic football session, nah an un pedagogic freedom, I miss them all… because never are they going to come back

I stood in front of my class room: 12 A, there on the left side I still could see myself. He was packing the bag, I remember, concerned about tuition thereafter. Suddenly his eyes went towards the door step. He was looking at me….. like a stranger.

ps: grammer and spelling mistakes are to be forgiven -:)