It's been 20 years since I got out of school and I can still feel my way around every nook and cranny of that place in my mind. It seems cruel to call them just memories when everything is still so fresh and vivid, my heart and head sometimes still dancing to those beats. It's like bouncing up and down in a colourful playball pit. The higher you jump, the deeper inside you fall and it just gets softer and warmer.
"Why boarding school?" A woman, whose daughter I used to tutor, once asked me. "Were you sent there as a punishment for being naughty?" I'm not sure what answer I gave her back then but now I sometimes think that maybe having to come back home was the punishment!
Almost anything and everything can get me in a school daze! I just have to close my eyes and everything springs back to life -
How we revelled in midnight feasts in the dorms, hiding cans of smoked ham and sausages inside stinky gum boots in the Shoe Room...
Settled our "scores" on the basketball and throwball courts...
Hung out at Mount Echo, just above the Basketball Court, playing with the latest brood littered by Rula the sweeper's bitch...
Whiled away our time in the Big Court before study hour in the evenings and on Sunday mornings when everyone else was watching Mahabharata on telly in the AV Room...
Planned secret rendezvous with the ice-creamwallah at Cliffdel; two bucks for a vanilla or pista cone and a pricey Rs 4 for a chocolate or strawberry...
Skated and jived in the gym on Friday nights during "Rec" and on rainy days...
Jumped into the Small Court out of sheer boredom on those same rainy days and got bitten by those monstrous dogs who should have been out for their Sunday walk...
Climbed out on to the ledge and peeked into the Chem & Physics lab before "pracs" so we knew what experiments to expect (for Physics it was always that goddamn Vernier Calliper)...
Walked among the clouds on Tableland and blew rings in the mist (a skill that would be put to a not so healthy use later!)...
Sat by that hunchback of an old tree at the edge of Tableland and listened to songs playing in the distance; the "Warriors" blasting Brothers in Arms or Money for Nothing on their boom box trying to impress us "Convent" girls...
Gazed down into the Krishna river from Sydney Point...
Hung out at the "buzz" and bought mushy cards from Unwallas or "Unnis" as we called it...
Ate hamburgers at Lucky's, cheeseburgers at Russo's and chicken frankies at Paradise...
Cycled down to Sandy Banks and God's Valley belting out the Sound of Music OST...
Climbed up from God's Valley to Devil's Kitchen and then spilled over once again to Tableland, my absolute favourite place...
Spent precious pocket money (Rs 5 at first, then 10 and finally 15 as we reached the senior classes) at fetes while mooning over the boys from Billies and Peters...
Dedicated Madonna songs like La Isla Bonita and Holiday to each other at the same fetes...
Sigh... It's been 20 years and I haven't gone back even once. Not once.
7 comments:
Please don't. Let the memories say unspoilt in your head because the place looks like one big shanty now. It really is so sad. I went there last year and could barely recognize it from the place I went to in 1985. Funny thing you know - we had gone there in '85 for admission to Peters because my old man wanted us to become "men" but that Innis chap came across as such a chor he changed his mind. Just think - maybe we'd have met each other, considering I'm just a year younger than you :)
I grew up in the Middle east btw. Yeah at one time we were spoilt NRI brats, but I think we turned out ok. Nice weekend.
I know what you mean about preserving these memories. I think that is part of the reason I've never gone back. Also right now I don't have much to show for these 20 years and there are always questions when you go back...
You have some memory! I had forgotten about Innis. His daughters were pretty hot, I think they studied in Kimmins.
Yup, we probably would have met at our church since the Peters church was Protestant. And you would have probably given me mushy cards and letters to pass on to the cute girls in my class or in the batch below (which btw was Kajol's class).
Back then being a year younger made a helluva difference :-) Actually to me it does even now. I've always had this thing for older men. I'm still waiting for my silver haired and slightly wrinkled Prince Charming!
You must not say that you know - I don't have a lot to show for the last 20 years either, but I did what I had to, what at the time I thought was right. And that not something to be ashamed of ... even if things didn't quite turn out the way you thought they would.
And btw, I never wrote mushy cards or letters. Ever.
Thank you. You're only saying that cos you know who I used to be. But sitting where I am right now, all of it seems like an illusion. Don't pull out the violins yet, I'm rising (not very Phoenix like tho!) from the ashes even as we speak.
And the reason you never wrote any mushy letters is cos you didn't study in Panchi! Trust me sweetheart, if you had been to any of the schools there back then mush would have been your only aim in life. We have all been guilty of it. So your old man made a smart choice. Now that I think about it, those boys were pretty obnoxious!
My dear Cloudcutter,
I've found your chronicles, by chance, through the Sigmund Fried blog, whose author is my student.
Thank you for your poignant and pregnant memories of school. But I do NOT agree with those who say we should not go back. We may not only go back in our thoughts but we should also go back to the places of our past. The lessons we can then learn, guide us to grow.
Again, thank you for sharing, cloudcutter.
Have a look at the 5-part memoir of my mother, "Lessons my mother learned me" on my blog, "Against the Tide."
Warm regards,
- Joe Pinto.
Pune, India.
Email: sangatizuzay@gmail.com
Thank you Joe and welcome to my blog.
I know that the places in our past have a lot to teach us and not wanting to go back has nothing to do with avoiding life's lessons.
What my friend, Saltwater Blues, and I are talking about is the fact that Panchgani, as a place, has physically changed so much that it would be sad to see it now.
What I remember is a quiet little piece of paradise that brings solace to my mind even now, after 20 years. I suppose I will go back someday, just not in a hurry.
"It's like bouncing up and down in a colourful playball pit. The higher you jump, the deeper inside you fall and it just gets softer and warmer."
yo! yo! yo! see, now that's what i'm talking about. i've never read anybody talk about memories like that, not in a long shot. quick, get yourself an agent. it'll be fun to watch penguin, harpercollins, randomhouse, faber, rupa and the rest of them start a bidding war outside your house.
Post a Comment