Alma Mater

As the mists of time clear ..... I see yellow and green. And a vast patch of dusty brown. And a grey expanse.

"Ammu .. aami aar school change korbo na !" And I never cried. Coming from the boy who DIDN'T at all go for the Don Bosco interview because he kept clinging to his mum and dad and just cried away. I remember queues of scrawny boys bowed under their weighty bags ... facing a dias with a bearded man on the microphone. Soon I would learn that it was the burden of what I called paradise. Partly.

Then I climbed the stairs to the first floor and entered my first classroom. Mr Tyebbhoy in her traditional Boh'rah abayah. Those were the first steps.

Fast forward twelve years ...... to a time I knew would come. Inevitable. I'd often wondered how it would feel when I looked at "big school" with eyes filled with wonder, as we inexorably moved towards the ultimate end. Or beginning. zweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
Flung high over Short Street , success , recognition , respect, -can't bring more than Rs. 10 to school limit - , no more omg its 3 o'clock no one's come to pick me up .....

I was comfortably numb. At the stage where - you're just the bengali teacher so don't mess with me..... coz about every other teacher loves me ? -. You get me ?

School fests , hysteria , euphoria, magic ..... rocking the girl's schools ...... shutting up the commentators with our brilliance. tum tum tata.... tum tum tata .... Bundle's guitar kept repeating ........ we're just livin' a lie.....

And then the end drew closer. Harrowed , sleepless nights over Solid state and thermodynamics. But hey.... I was a genius. I told my mom I had a V12 in my head ..... I do 0-100 in 6s. I studied for ISC only for about 2 weeks prior to its commencement. Yo.

Then the Epilogue was written ...... and as the credits rolled by.... I realised it couldn't have been better ......... but I didn't wanna let go. But I had to. And I couldn't. And I didn't know where I could go.

Because I hadn't studied enough for that.

So the last precious moments I couldn't savour. I was numbed. Numb numb numb. And not comfortable either. "Can't somebody hear me I'm screaming from so far away...."

Then I went underground......... and when I resurfaced I was back in action. But I think my soul still lies there. I forgot to pack it up when I left ...... so disillusioned. It still wakes up every morning ...... and clad in white it walks under the tree canopy leading to the yellow wall with black wrought iron gates, with strains of Satriani's Starry Night wafting through the air like a heavenly hymn.

"And you know what pleases me the most ? The way you all come back."

I would give anything to return. I'd give anything to relive EVERY MOMENT of it. Including the bad ones.

Nihil Ultra.




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footnote : A rather intense expression this may be ..... and many people suggest I should move on. "In a way it's over..." as one so eloquently put it ..... and rightly too. But remember , it is what made us. And I am not ashamed of admitting I can't let go. I needn't.