Tags
adolocent age, childhood, college, first poem, fun, innocence, mom, school life
Me, Myself :
Having studied in a convent with girls, female teachers & nuns all around, U could say I was deprived of the opportunity of having to fall for someone in the name of first crush. Yet, we had our moments 😉 Believe it or not, I was one of the naive-est of day-scholars, the typical bookworm whose world existed in her books, borrowing library-cards from everyone in the township of my school, to get as many books from the library for a read, as possible, with Maya mam, the Librarian, going gaga over me and eulogizing my reading-habits and the rest of the class smirking & turning up their noses. I had a minimalistic number of similar sincere bookwormish friends. Luckily, for my soft-spoken nature, above-average academic performances, good writing skills and quiet, disciplined habits, I was a favourite with “most” teachers (mind U, not all! ) and was also under the protective wings of some of my powerful peers, particularly a pair of twins who would try save me from the wrath of the snobs and bullies of the class.
Inking Elders’ Antics
I still haven’t gotten over the dread of the blue-black ink that was insisted upon by my Hindi teacher. When we began using Fountain ink-pens in class Five instead of pencils, I often spilled ink on the floor in my attempt to fill the fattest pen’s tanks. Fattest pens were our unwilling choice because we had to write endlessly, it being ICSE board. Working late into the nights to finish my endless homework (there was no Mr. Sibbal to come to our rescue then :-/), I would often end up refilling my pen several times. Once I spilled the entire Ink-bottle and soiled the new flooring of our sitting room (never mind the little soiled hands. :-|). I was very scared of mom and dad scolding me about it. But guess what? They didn’t, instead, my granddad did! :O :-\ Then, he advised me to use Royal Blue ink (an instant choice even otherwise, except for the Hindi teacher) and Chinese Fountain Pens, an expensive choice, but very easy to fill and also good for handwriting. However, the biggest problem was that all good stuff got stolen from your pencil-box and the thief was caught more often than not! 😦 I wanted to use Pilot-Pens but they came to me much later for use. Kids today are luckier with the widest range and assortments of stationary at their disposal.
I loved studying English & Hindi and both the subjects’ teachers forever refused to believe what I had written as my own penning. God Knows why, but they had this stupid idea stuck in their heads that I couldn’t have written what I had, as an essay, and recalling my works, I do admire my writing prowess then! 😉 I still have that essay saved (an article on History & relevance of Indian culture) where my English Teacher wrote a lengthy comment to my mother, refusing to accept the work as my own. I hope someday I dig it out of my archive boxes :P, scan it and put it up here. 😉 In fact, I’ll also add here, some of my class experiences, esp my Hindi, Geography and English class experiences, in that order. 🙂
Sports, Infatuation, Idolisation.
I was termed a “careless natural beauty” then & incidentally carried the label up to my teaching days. A good sports-person, I was into high-jumps and long jumps but dropped out of these two athletic activities, after, once in class VIII, I got hurt badly on the nose by one of the high-jump bars and while my nose bled profusely, our games teachers didn’t even bother to get me the first-aid. Despite being the most acclaimed of the schools with the best of facilities, I wasn’t taken to the infirmary (medical room) and instead was directed to go wash my nose at the water-tap. I felt so disgusted, disappointed, disgruntled, disoriented and most of all, disillusioned by this incident that I stopped participating in these two activities.
March-Past at 12 in the noon was sheer torture with the drum beating right into our heads and through the mike right onto our hearts, with most of us spinning and swooning to the ground after being pulled up for dancing rather than marching to the beat and being the most lousy of marchers! . . 😐
Although an average player, I also used to play volleyball (OOh! The punch still hurts at the very memory of the game!) and basketball as it was one of the more popular sports of our times (I never ever managed to basket the ball!). There was one more reason behind that. Some of our most idolised hostlers (the very special God’s own children for the rest of us ordinary mortals called Day-scholars) used to play the game. And of these, Leenika Berry deeds (as we would call the didis then) and Sunita deeds were my favourites. Mukta Punia was a brilliant player but she was not my types. A crude rude kinda rough tough girl, she was more boyish for me to hold any charm. I liked girls to be as delicate & fragile-looking as me, yet were tough enough to play basket ball in the evening-practices day in & day out, and I missed not a single opportunity to watch the matches they played. My slam-book craved for their “autographs” and succeed did I to get the best of the fill-ins in my slam-book.
High Headed High School Bad Hair Days! 😉
Complete with a pic & all, I considered myself the luckiest girl as I got the opportunity to visit Sunita Didi, the one I idolised, at her home when her parents moved into the same city and she took up a house very close to my residence. She was such a darling, very friendly and this meeting made me calm down my excitement for her. Blushing a lot between her pimples and acne, she told me it was me who was often the cynosure of most eyes and also the talk of the bus we travelled in! My friendship was sought after and considered coveted esp by my juniors while the senior girls were often JLo. I was taken aback. We became real good friends later on and slowly as time moved, we too departed to move onto our destined life-paths. Leenika deeds, who was an ace basketballer, was someone I was infatuated with. Tall, with beautifully slung, shoulder-length hair, she looked like a twin but younger version of Kittu Gidwani to me and being a senior prefect (later as the Red House Captain) added to her charm. She was a bit of the high-headed types but we all thought she deserved to keep her nose in the air for all her attributes. I got my slam-book filled by her and was extremely delighted to have her autograph at the end of the fill-up. That day I literally danced on my toes! She was fond of me was evident from the smiles he threw at me whenever we crossed paths or her kind pardon if, per chance, I, the most prim & propah girl, made an error in her behaviour. She didn’t seem to mind exchanging a word or the usual greeting with me. But she took serious offence when she got her hair cropped short to small(est) steps and I, all heart-broken, after having gathered enough courage to be gutsy enough to tell her that the new style didn’t seem to suit her much. She told me candidly, it was HER head and her hair, she would do as would please her. Much as it annoyed me, it broke something in me and I meandered off to find a better idol for myself.
Do drop in for a read of:
Growing Reflections Of Time Pic(kl)ed & Bottled
https://puplumages.wordpress.com/2010/06/19/growing-reflections-of-time-pickled-bottled/
Jasbir said:
U knw dere’s sumthing abt all schooltime experiences and stories……No matter whose story is it…they all seem so familiar….I could so easily relate to dis one too….Dat Leenika deeds wala incident touched my heart…the honesty and the innocence jst flows through this post…..I have always felt no matter if we stay in touch with any1 frm our school or not,sum part of our school always stays wid us…dats d reason even a small mention of school brings back a flood of memories….and abt the other thngs…well….wat can I say……I’m jst speechless……:)
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Suri said:
Must say a tender *blushing* ‘reflecting’ completely that strong smell of childhood you have !! This write of yours carries an innocence and feel of discovery which makes the post very readable. The child in you peeps out of the windows of time to find yourself hidden from your view, because of the curtains of age. Enjoyed it immensely. Please keep writing often to keep us entertained so wonderfully.
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Anjani said:
as always im speechless
you are impossibly gifted.. 🙂
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Ray.. said:
Nice to know the life of the greatest hand ever made…
Physically, Mentally And Soulfully…
It’s always nice to read your words, they bore me less than any other thing in the world do… 😛
I mean, they don’t bore me !! 😀
Somewhere, in your phase of life, I’d find my life too…
Love Your Thoughts, Your Childhood, And You…
Take Care… 🙂
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remya said:
oh i miss my school life……..you reminded me my school days 😦 …it was fun ….i miss ma teachers i miss my friends infact i wish if i can go back to those days again…well i loved ur poems……..enjoyed every bit of ur words u expressed there……god bless you..pls keep writing as i love to read all ur poems…. 🙂
how to download youtube videos in high quality
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neetish21 said:
somewhere in the middle i felt as if i was reading a novel ..and great to read something about you .
the stuff about childhood and teenage years is something which everyone can relate to … specially those whove been to missionary schools .
i find it amazing how almost everyone who grew up in the 90s have somewhat similar growing up experience anywhere in india .
Keep writing waiting for the next one 🙂
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Swati said:
Wonderful flow of words…beautiful paraphrasing..:)
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Zeeshan said:
You have mentioned many small details of school time ranging from pens, ink, exams, post holders, games and all that was achieved through the years. These will remain with you for the greater part of your life as memories, dreadful times, I wish I could have done that way, also a tendency towards betterment in ourselves. At few things it got verisimilitude with mine also when thinking about the pens and wonderful subjects, the great details and the notes. Taking strolls to school days is always a good time with friends and it can be done more often to rekindle and revive ourselves. I always have my childhood, school friends helping me anytime, its their efforts which made me realize who really I am. I might be having my best time for now but later also my best work i.e my all hard work will come truly when I sit in my room with all the work which I have been doing since years and years rolled in one final outcome called in success and happiness for my world full of friends and family. Goodluck!
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Sharad said:
Can’t tell you, how much was I reminded of a friend, while going through this post.. 🙂 There were times when I wondered if you were actually her.. 😛 Trust me, she is just like you, may be not as tender as you describe yourself, for she is a li’l dominating character.. 😛 But still, with those school days descriptions and the context of ICSE and Red House, I was all into my school days.. and as if I was reading her autobiography.. 🙂 🙂 Thanks for the nostalgia.. 🙂
Loved the title of the post specially.. 🙂 🙂
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Purvi said:
LOVED YOUR COMMENT SHARAD! If I’v been successful in evoking those long lost memories, I feel elated at my ability to connect with you! yeah, may be I’m her! 😉 (Bdw, wots her name? :P)
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rajiv said:
she fills up our senses with the flow of her words…the flora and fauna associated with her travails of naini…the vacation which creates magic….alas i have not visited my naini since long….grew up there in a boarding school….brings back fond memories….purple petal you are magical…….
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Abhishek said:
Wow…I was relegated sm 15yrs….to those ICSE yrs whr we were forced to use fountain pens…appropriately called so…coz I dont remember a day I returned home without sprinkling my shirt with blue…a sign that u actually went to school & dint bunk to play cricket ‘challenge’ matches 🙂
….also I m amazed dat soo many trivial details match soo many childhoods!!
Thx Purvi, for d sweet rrminder!!
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