memoirs of me

Yesterday noon, for a change, I was taking a nap in the TUC study lounge (for a change should be associated with TUC study lounge and not with 'taking a nap') and all of a sudden, out of no where and without any provocation, the memories of my first day in school came to my mind. By first day I mean the very very first day, when I went to LKG. And the most heartening part about that is I remember the day very vividly and it is so damn clear in my mind. (As clear as how I remember what I did yesterday). Like many other days and years to follow, my paati took me and to the school. Unlike as shown in the umbrella and school bag ads, I didnt want to go to school at all. I obliged to go upon the condition that my paati would stay at school with me the whole day everyday. I was comparitively emotionally restrained than what I used to be in those days. My Paati entrusted me to my teacher and she waited outside (I think she suspected something terribly wrong was gonna happen seeing me uncharecteristically quiet).

My teacher's name was Gracy and she wore a round golden frame glass and a red saree (details just to remind the readers who have survived till now to read till here about my photographic memory). All went fine till about half an hour. and I was all set to step into my new phase of life with a chalk and slate in my hand. Thats when paati might have felt safe and she decided to leave.Just as she turned, I saw paati leaving and I jumped out of my seat and rushed out bursting into tears. She told that she was not leaving but just went to drink some water but I didnt buy it. I got the plot and I insisted on going home with her. In the mean time, my teacher was trying to pull me back into the class and make me sit. I couldnt free myself from her grips. And during those days, I believed in 'action speaks louder than words' (you all know now i believe just the opposite). I just swirled the wooden slate I had in my hand at the teacher's face. It hit her face and broke her glasses but by god grace missed her eyes. I dont exactly remember if I saw blood (or rather, i dont wanna rememeber). She was completely shocked was just released me. I ran to my paati only to be slapped by her for my atrocity which amplified my cry. But atlast my perseverence paid off and I was taken back home. That marked the beginning of my academic life. Dont know if its the curse of that teacher or not, maybe thats why I am still a student even after crossing the sell by date. So when people say studies are a pain, I would say, it literally started for me from the very first day!

I would like to add one more thing here. Later, once i 'got tamed', I was Gracy teacher's favorate. I too liked her so much that I refused to attend the class when she was on leave on her marriage. Last year when I went to India, I think I saw her crossing the road when I was in the bus. I am pretty sure it was her, for I remember her very well. But again, I am not absolutely sure.The image I have of her is when she was young and its hard for me to think she would look the same even after two decades!



Jaya said...

Cute post... Weird as it may sound, I remember my first day of real school as well (not the preschool thing). But I only remember till the part I was put into the UKG class. Don't remember how the day progressed. And sadly, I was one of those school-bag ad kids who loved the slate and chalk -it was the bulpum thing which was yummmmmmy - ask me I shd know.. having devoured quite a few! Those were the days! Good one... made me nostalgic!

Aravind said...

Thanx Jaya. yeah those were the best days i tension, no worries, but still lots of crying and complaining!
i even had a girlfriend then. dont remember her name or anything. but she used to comsole me whenever i used to cry!

Dilip said...

a very nice post, though i am reading much after you wrote it. So you remember the first day at school. I must say hitting your teacher was a pretty nasty deed and you should have got slapped more than once :) i actually spent some time with my cousins who are young and realized it really is tough to handle 2-5 year olds. Guess your pati made it thought with you!!!

Aravind said...

thanx for taking the pain to go through my archives. actually i dont hv much recollection of the aftermath....i remember crying , but not sure if it was for going home or coz i got beaten up. well, have got beaten innumerable no. of times in school, so its not a statistic which i can keep count of! :)
glad to get you back in blogosphere :)