Classroom. Chapter #1

October 9, 2013: The Last Dispersal. 
This dispersal before the last vacation of my school life, makes me nostalgic. It takes me back to the junior school days, when we ran down the stairs, like cattle, making noise and shouting, “Happy Holiday! Joota polish day.” That was childhood, most of which i lived in this school, Birla High School. Takes me back to the times when we used to have bus parties with all the locally available junk food. All for the last time. The Last Vacation. The last time, I be again not doing my project on time to have the teachers chasing my life. The last time when i go back to school and realize the holiday homework has not been done. The last time I will be going back to my classroom after such a holiday.
When, there is not even a month for school life to get over, every thought of it makes the heart skip a bit. Nostalgia sets in. Tears may roll down anytime. Why does school need to end? A dozen years behind me, just a month in front.
Kitna bhi sammeit le yaha, aakhir mein chhoot hi jaata hai.
The handkerchief was used to play catch-catch. The volleyball court was for kabbadi, only. Monitors were celebrities who everybody wanted to befriend. And about the bad habits, we moved in queues, brought books for all periods, seeked permission for drinking water, laid a handkerchief on the table before opening our tiffin and all the other bad habits. The best was that we used to complain. “Ma’am he took my rubber.”

The good boy in us, only came out since class 8. We realized the corridor, or the nooks and corners of the school need as much attention as the classrooms. Due to certain back problems or the unavailability of books or due to the book being given for binding, we couldn’t always bring the book to class. We preached that the students need the chalks as much as the teachers need them. Not walking in queues will make us reach faster to the next class. And… If we do not dirty the classroom, the money spent by the school on the sweeper will go waste. Such was the transformation of us being responsible students of the school now. How can I sum all of these in the few days that are now left?
With every happiness now is attached a tear. With every moment, a memory.


About Chetan

A twenty year old infant who fears if crows may shit on him or if Bengali aunties' umbrellas may prick him in the eye. He is currently waiting for Mamata Banerjee to leave Kolkata.

Posted on December 2, 2013, in BHS is Home!. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Akhsit Akhauri

    senti karr diya …:’)


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