The more I grow up (or age gracefully), the more I seem to be reflecting on the days gone by. The best days were the ones I spent in school. I have such vivid memories of the sights, the sounds, the experiences and even the smells. I was in an all-girls school for the first 10 years and it was as memorable as it can ever be. I was in LOVE with our cute white and red uniform. The crisp white shirt, the white box pleated divided skirt, the red belt, the red socks and the cute red hair accessories were the best. I was always the tall one in my class. I got to stand at the end of the line, sit at the back of the class and play the male part in all the school plays. While the rest of the girls got to play the pretty princess or Mary in the Christmas pageant, i was always the prince, the father, the scraggly old man, Joseph or even one of the 3 Kings! My best friend was also in my school(obviously!) she even lived in the neighbourhood and we had so much fun together. Studying or doing homework was the last thing on our minds as we spent so many carefree days playing hop-scotch, badminton, and eventually moved on to talking about boys and clothes. My mother would always find me at her house at mealtimes. I used to time my visits to coincide with the appam stew, beef curry or kari meen that her mother used to make. At other times, i used to make do with the pickles they had specially sent in from Kerela. I was heartbroken when they moved away. Eventually we did too and like all children, i made new friends, went to a new school, found interests like rock and roll and Madonna to amuse me and got more than my fair share of attention from the boys.
My school days were full of fun and learning. I remember coming home after Elocution class to teach my mom how to pronounce and enunciate correctly. Or loving Shakespeare's Tempest with all my heart. I fondly remember the SUPW(Socially useful Productive Work) classes and the needle point tea-cosy i had so proudly made. I remember being the flag bearer at the march past on our Sports days, but never winning anything at the race. I remember my basketball days and how my mother used to take me for practice even on a Sunday, riding a hot-tin bus when we did not have the luxury of a car. I remember so proudly wearing our basketball uniform of a teeny-tiny red miniskirt(I still had legs then!) and making heads turn as we went to other schools to participate. I really don't remember how many we won or lost, but the feeling of being out there, with peers was beyond extraordinary. I loved being on stage too be it singing Leaving on a Jet plane, or participating in the Christmas Pageant, singing Alto in the Choir or playing the part of the angry father in the dramatisation of Mill on the Floss.
I was a good student too. I had a good head and when needed i could apply myself on the academic level. I was in the top 10 of my class and other than in Hindi, i was a high scorer on most subjects. The time spent in the school library was one of wonder for me. It was there that I discovered Enid Blyton and her magical use of words. I would read each and every book she ever wrote and as i grew older i moved on to Nancy Drews, Hardy Boys, Hitchcock and then...Mills and Boon!
My mother till this day believes that I would be a better person(a doctor perhaps??), had Mills and Boons not filled my young, impressionable head with wild, passionate, romantic imagery! The more she tried to keep me away from "trash" the more i read them. Thus began the rebellion of my teenage years, with loud Rock music, shorter than short skirts, crazy psychedelic plastic ear-rings, studded boots and BOYS!
There was no looking back, as i found suitors in every nook and cranny and I loved the attention they gave me. From compliments to books to music...the secret stash kept growing every week as did my battle with my parents, who thought that i was well on my way to the path of ruin and disrepute. When i wrote in my secret diary my mom would be itching to know who it was about and when i began to get terrible headaches, my mom even thought that i was doing drugs. Many days of sulking, crying, raging battles and treats ensued. Many nights spent crying, and lamenting about how they did not "understand" me. Many Rod Stewart, Peter Gabriel, Madonna, Wham records later, i calmed down. I started a new school( a co-educational one at that) and I found the school boys could be so un-interesting. I made some amazing friends and managed to cram the best days of my life in the two years of Senior school that I spent there. I learnt to love studying again. My love affair with the English language flourished and I made a new best friend. My new friends made me love "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" and "PG Wodehouse". I wholeheartedly particiated in the childish school pranks or hard study lessons and emerged a winner. I remember the infectious gang of girls in my class. There was one who would study too much or the one who used to laugh the loudest, the one with serious style and the one with the nose pin....Two years flew by at the blink of an eye and we grew up, laughed and made many memories together. Our school farewell was the most poignant moment for me. Dressed in my mothers purple Kanjivaram Saree I lit the lamp that would light my paths in the years to come, The atmosphere was heavy, it was time to grow up, to take on responsibilities, to find the path of your dreams. Many roads would take us on many new paths, the comfort and security of school would be left behind. We made many promises to our Friends, wrote on each others year books and posed for an unending stream of photographs to freeze the moment for our lifetime. As i walked back home that night with my parents, looking over my shoulder I saw my lamp flickering in the distance. Maybe many new memories await me, many new experiences yet to unfold, many even-better times yet to come....but with tears welling in my eyes I bid a silent goodbye to the best years of my life...my wonder years
