Going to school once again

Going to school once again

 “The best days of one’s life is school life”- that’s what I very often heard from my siblings, elders and teachers and I am sure you too will agree with me if you are no longer a school student.

While in school, I often thought what it was like to be in college or to be in a job, to have all the independence and to start earning? School life is that phase of life when you have all the time but no money of your own while once you start to earn, you may have all the money but absolutely no time.

As I reflect 3 decades back, loaded with fond memories, the image that I see is of a young child carrying a rectangular aluminium box to school instead of a school bag in the early 80s. One can now find such an aluminium box in the school canteen wherein all the money goes or commonly used as a first-aid box with the red-cross on top. We didn’t have fancy colourful branded bags then; it was sans Adidas and Nike.  The 80s was a time when siblings could be easily recognized from the identical dresses they wore which came in different sizes and colours. School shoe was either Bata’s black Naughty Boy shoes or black Ballerina school shoes for girls’ and the white-coloured canvas shoes worn on Saturdays. It was a time when the black chalk and slate were still in vogue.

My first school was just a 5-minutes walk away from home. When my Deota asked my opinion if I would be interested to join the school where my elder sister also studied I answered “Yes”, the only reason being so is because I saw Pahari, my elder sister bringing in chocolates home from school, a week or so before Christmas. How naïve one could be as a child! Henceforth, the white-shirt, grey skirt with plaits (pinafore till class III), white socks, black shoe, red ribbon with black hair clips or hair-band and later the maroon-coloured school tie became ‘the uniform’ for the next 10 years of my life in school from class I to X (direct to college after X^th).

I vividly remember the two school buses which looked very archaic and always parked very near to the main entrance which stood like some medieval archetypical sentinels. But the bus which ferried me back and forth, back and forth to school was the blue-coloured ASTC buses. Those buses were numbered 1, 2 and 3 only. The bus stand stood in front of Dispur water-tank which still exists inside the present Assam Secretariat complex. With its small concrete Assam-type shelter, the bus-stand became a playground for the girls of my age who played kut-kut (hop-scotch), panch-guti (knucklebones), pitthoo (seven stones), ghar-ghar and made laru (ladoo), pitha (rice-cake) out of small stones and leaves during Sundays and holidays or equipped with a catapult would bring down unripe mangoes and berries to fill our globular stomach.

The journey to school was a half an hour adrenaline pumping drive by bus via Ganeshguri, Ulubari in GS Road, past Nehru Stadium, Lamb Road, Uzanbazar to Guwahati Club. Much has changed with time across the entire stretch of the journey to my school (except the maroon-coloured Assam Flour Mill building in Bhangaghar [Estd. 1958]), with not one but three flyovers, a few roundabouts in between, not to speak about the mushrooming buildings of varying shapes, sizes and heights.

The morning Assembly was a time when we would start the day with a prayer and a song (including the National Anthem or ‘O Mur Apunar Dekh’- the state song of Assam) followed by a speech and march-past. It is a wonder though why the school’s pet dogs would also croon with us in unison when we sang the songs from the song book Melody.

English was the medium of instruction in the school, so we had to speak in English, listen in English and even think in English. Even though the language was encouraged, we seldom spoke except in front of our teachers, sisters or inside the classroom when class was in progress. I realized much later when I faced the interview board for jobs why the language is such a powerful medium for effective communication. Students, better start to dream in English too.

Lunch time was a quick bite from our/ friends/ classmates tiffin-boxes and very often the girl (it was an all girls’ school) who bought Maggie, chow-chow and such ‘yummy for the tummy’ food was over even before lunchtime. ‘Loving is sharing’- was our mantra. Lunch time was not only munch-time but a whole lot of thoughts and talks was churned out and shared amongst friends. London Bridge, I Sent a Letter to My Mother, Chain-Chain, Gold-Spot, A-Mina (clap, clap, clap), Kho-Kho, Kabaddi, Lock and Key are now just a few games which locks and unlocks my mind’s memory.

There is always a crest and a trough, a high and ebb even in school life. The countless weekly tests, unit test, oral test, written test, half-yearly and the annual examinations was one of it. This meant that it was hibernation time for our games and sports, music and dance and other extra-curricular activities. We had to only focus on academics. The Open Day (PTM) was yet another such event when the parents of students’ met the teachers twice in a year.

Till middle school, studies didn’t interest me much. However, games and sports, songs and dance and such other extra-curricular activities did. I loved to listen to fairy tale stories at home. I remember Deota reading out tales of Cinderella, Snow-White and the Seven Dwarfs, The Three Little Pigs, The Emperor’s New Clothes (LOL), The Ugly Duckling etc. from a big, fat The Giant All-colour Book of Fairy-Tales by Hamlyn (The Hymlyn Publishing Group Ltd) which had stories mainly of Hans Christian Andersen, the Brothers Grimm, Charles Perrault et. al. Ma would narrate the legend of Parasuram and even though I heard it a hundred times, it never  satiated my mind. I would request Ma to repeat the same story again and again and yet again . . .

In my time, there were many teachers from south India who made Assam their home. One such teacher was my high school Mathematics teacher whom we feared the most in school, more than our Sister- Head Mistress. My Mathematics teacher from school later became my colleague in the previous school where I worked.  As a mark of respect I always stood up whenever she was present before me. Once a teacher, ALWAYS A TEACHER. We also had a few Anglo-Indian teachers who mostly taught us English and who stood out from the rest of the teachers because they were always clad in shirt/ top-skirt and knee-length frocks while the other teachers wore mekhela-chador and saris. Salwar-kameez-dupatta was still not ‘in’ in Guwahati schools then.

High school was the most crucial and turning point of my life when I slowly but surely started to take my studies seriously. Not that I could excel in Assamese but l developed a taste for learning, for reading, for listening, for understanding- be it Geography, Social Studies, English, Science and Mathematics. Well, the list also includes Moral Science. It is interesting to note that in the matriculation examination I flared well in those subjects I was weak and my marks in Geography- my favourite subject, plummeted below my expectation. But, this didn’t deter me to pursue the subject I was most passionate about for higher studies, a subject which later on in my professional life through the domain of Digital Cartography (computer-assisted map-making) and Geographical Information System (GIS) took me to distant cities and states across the length and breadth of India and even abroad in the western hemisphere.

School outing- be it the picnic during winter time to Chandrapur or excursion to the nearest hill-station Shillong, National Integration Camp, a visit to Apsara Cinema hall for a children’s movie with the classmates escorted by the teachers or to attend a city-school’s fest and exhibition was something which every one of us always looked forward to. Food, music and dance flowed into ‘the young mind-mills’ like the waters of a tributary in a picnic spot.

The various literary-cultural competitions viz. dance, songs, plays, quiz, debate, extempore, poetry recitation; the 100 m race, 200 m race, relay race, 3-legged race, sack-race, marble-in-spoon race, thread and needle race in the Sports Day kept the participants and the viewers hooked to the playground. The School Exhibition was an event when the entire school buzzed and hummed with activities. Similarly, articles in English, Assamese and Hindi (no foreign language then) for the School Magazine; the newspaper clippings and various works of art for the School’s Bulletin Board kept the students of the four Houses- Green, Blue, Red and Yellow engaged; the 4 clubs viz.-  Sports, Social Service, Literacy and Cultural ignited the young minds to bring out their latent talent.

Uniforms were checked every day by the class captain, vice-captain and monitor; nails were checked every Monday (for long nails and nail-polish). No rolling of socks, no fancy clips and rubber-bands were allowed. Class cleaning duty were assigned for high school students, done on a rotation basis roll number-wise after class was over; any defaulter were made to pick-up toffee and chocolate wrappers, chips packets and all such litter from the playground after tiffin-break. It was a time when skirts were till knee-length but socks were rolled down till ankle to make a student’s style-statement.

Rainy days meant less attendance in class while birthday of a student meant the girl could come in a frock or skirt-top (surely not with the naughty boy shoes on) and if someone wore the ‘green dress’ loaned by the school for a day, it definitely meant the girl did Number 2 in her uniform while in school. Sundays and holidays, summer vacation and winter vacation and any unexpected holiday (including the frequent Assam bandh) were much awaited by the students’.

School bully- well, there will be one such character anytime, anywhere in the school campus. Strange but true- in my batch there was one such student who not only bullied her juniors but her seniors too. Punishment (including solitary and mass punishment) to us meant to keep standing in one’s place inside the classroom or to march out of the class and stand in the corridor till the bell rang for the next period. Bunking classes in school was unheard of then.

Bullying apart, school was the ‘teach and preach’ ground wherein values were imparted to us right from Nursery to Class X. Discipline, Honesty, Punctuality, Regularity, Kindness, Responsibility, Truthfulness, Loyalty, Faithfulness, Modesty, Humbleness, Gentleness, Dignity of Labour, Cleanliness and a gamut of such moral values were chiseled  for a good and cohesive character formation in the Moral Science period. Handkerchief, lampshade, skirt, door-mat, cross-stitch, chain stitch, embroidery in the Work Experience period to English Classics, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Mills and Boons etc. in the Library period to Chess, Carroom, Table-Tennis, Badminton, Volley-Ball in the Games period gave us a breath of fresh air from the regular mundane classes. The significance of such classes can only be valued better now, if not in school life. The ‘Keep Guwahati Clean and Green Drive’ in the early 90s, Literacy Mission in School for the underprivileged children and adults after school hours wherein high school students volunteered to teach elementary English and Mathematics  were one amongst the many initiatives and drives undertaken by the school for a noble social cause.

After the school bell rang, it was time to keep our bags in queue in the playground. We did relish the sweet and sour teteli (tarmarind) wrapped on ice-cream sticks, jolphai (olive) and the local potato chips and the hot, chilly-laced tapioca chips which came in small packets for Rupee 1 or Rs. 2, pea-nuts, chana-chur, golguppa/ pani-puri, jhal-muri, aloo chat, aloo tikka, kulfi and ice-cream (esp. the orange one) for Rs. 5 - Rs 10. What a gastronomic delight it was!

Christmas celebration in school on the last day of the annual examination and a few days before Christmas brought out the true Yuletide spirit amongst the students, teachers, non-teaching staff, helpers and the Salesian Sisters as the scene of Lord Jesus Christ’s birth and the visit by the Three Magi was enacted by the students.

There is no end to one’s elation when we meet a school classmate in a different city, state or country or even when we meet them via the online social media like Orkut, Facebook, Twitter etc. after many years of hiatus. Probably the last time you met her (or him) was in school. Imagine also the joy of meeting your school teacher(s) after an eon.

My professor, the world renowned Geographer Majid Hussain Sir made a partying speech in the university farewell stating that ‘In life, one’s true examination starts when s/he completes the academic life and begins the professional journey’. I realized this fact when I commenced my professional life. Life, thy name, is the greatest teacher, dear students.

Now-a-days, the children have no time to be children and their childhood is lost in a quagmire of busy schedule as they strut between home to school, to private tuition classes and lies buried in a sea of books.

There is a child in every one of us. However, we tend to asphyxiate by severing our hidden child-like feelings and traits once we become an adult and get the ‘matured’ tag certified by our age, we lock the ‘lost child’ present in us forever. Well, I too did it but now it’s de-frocked. Why else on the day when I appeared for my interview in DPS, Guwahati, with me clad in mekhela-chador, be pulled like a magnet towards the passing Mother Dairy ice-cream vendor in my neighbourhood, in spite of my bouts of severe cough and cold? Why else would I swim as a learner with the boarders’ of my previous school, play a match of foot-ball with the girls or get drenched in the first shower of the rains with them and even cycle, albeit alone, via Garchuk on N.H.- 37, Moinakhurung, Pamohi, past the green hills that lies beyond DPS, Guwahati on a pleasant winter morning? I surmise the child in me is still awake. And yes, I am still going to school once again- not only as a teacher but with the inquisitiveness of a learner as well, without a pause or a full-stop to learning and to re-discover the child in me. The road beckons!

This write-up is a tribute to my teachers throughout my academic life and the lodestars, mentors and guides in my professional life (including Punita G. Singh and Madhu Madhavi Singh- former managers from the office of Rough Guides, Penguin Books (I) Pvt Ltd, New Delhi).

PT teachers

Vishwakarma Puja, Durga Puja, Kali Puja, Saraswati Puja,  Eid, Guru Nanak’s Birthday, Mahavir Jayanti, Buddha Purnima etc.

and the ‘zig-saw-fit’ of the Indian states

Every time I crossed my school, I would make a little prayer because in front of my school there was a beautiful statue of Jesus Christ in the arms of Mother Mary.

Podum Phool (Lotus Flower), Aai Re Amaar Togor, Land-Water-River-Sea-Bridge,

The Art of Volunteering

SMC- maths in class IX

Community Center of Gurgaon Sector-45, Mrs Sawant

 Tabassum

Parijat Academy