I went to a boarding school after much tussle between my parents. After an exposition of his supreme convincing capabilities, my father finally managed to take my mother in his confidence (with his notion of putting me there for a good purpose). So here we were in midst of a marquee hoisted to host the wards and parents. The lot of my would-be classmates seemed to be a sorry looking heap (except for the one, well…). Every one of us was being cuddled by our mothers. The atmosphere must have been similar to the scene of soldiers and sailors setting off for an unknown land. Tears trickled down. Boys were sobbing. The pleading for toys, bi-cycles, comics etc. had all subsided. Let’s say these went into a hiatus never to resurface again. All that we wanted then was to somehow forestall our admissions and head home. Who wants to leave a kingdom and be a hermit??
We were allotted guides (who had already went through the ordeal and lets say had come out clean. accustomed to schedule, tuned to confinement...Ahh the tamers of the childhood wishes!!). Counseling was tipped to begin 9 am onwards and our flock of bleating kiddos was busy praying that the clocks stopped ticking. We were not ready to reconcile ourselves to the fact that we were about to be stripped bare of all our might. I remember seeing some older guys getting caned for playing extra time; an odd minute extra after playtime and they were taken to task. Hell!! There was a restriction even on our playing tenure...what else does a kid know best??
But the destiny was all chalked out for me. Sometimes there's not much we can do. Let me also add that sometimes we must not do anything purposefully and should let fate play its cards. Had I not resigned to my fate then...my story would have been commonplace. Choices we make shape our life-stories.
So these guides (acting sagacious) took my parents for a walk around my school esp. the dormitories (the dormitory turf presented a sorry scene as compared to bright-as-a -crazy diamond floor of my house). A clutter of clothes lay in the verandah. The washer man was supposed to pack the hillock and wash the clothes pearly white at his place. He hadn't turned up. The guys in the hostel were jumping on the cloth-hill and their exultations were almost audible from miles. My mom looked a bit apprehensive but I felt reassured.
And so with my batch of nervous nitwits I made up my mind to get admitted. I had not known then what extraordinary turn of events was lined up for me.
I still remember myself sobbing and looking over the boundary wall for the disappearing torsos of my parents....my eyes followed the vehicle till it faded into oblivion. That sense of loss...we seldom feel. But as I turned my back to my past, a queer character gave me the warmest hug I have ever got. He seemed happy and relieved to think that now he would be on his own...and I looked at him with teary eyes. My eyes were betraying my helplessness in coming to terms with reality. And this guy!! The shameless worm… was laughing; all teeth-out… Friends that fate hurls at you!!
How we got along and how together we weaved a saga that made us the stuffs of students-lore. Ahh, it’s a long story… but I am here to recount. And I will gradually unfold my life… my strife…
