Today, after three long years, I visited my
school. So much had changed, yet so little. The statue of Swami Vivekananda,
was right there, where it was several years back, yet the beloved watchman and
his salt and peppery mustache, I couldn't find.
I climbed the stairs that I had been
climbing for 6 long years. I walked the corridors that were once a stage to my
drama, podium to my speech, an adda to
all the gossip and the playground to hundreds of lunch-breaks.
For the first time, in three years, I
smelled my school. I breathed the pale colours of the classrooms. I breathed
through the existence of so many kids at the same place, as I was at… a couple
of years back. I saw the chalk dust in the air, which brought a gist of
nostalgia with it. I could hear the footsteps, the synched recitation of the
pledge and the co-ordinated greetings to the teacher.
I imagined myself as the school girl once
again. I could feel my oiled and neatly tied hair. I could see my brightly
polished shoes. The ribbons, the badge, the crisply ironed uniform, uptight
socks and so much more… that for once, I reached for my bag, to hold the straps
of my satchel, only to realize that now I, am an almost grown woman, with a
rather stylish handbag.
