Cross-Roads

"Reminiscences, are queer. They make you cry over the things that you laughed on, and make you laugh over the things that you wept on."

I cannot help but get mesmerized. Memories, are really strange. They make best friends with you in an instant, and yet, in a split second, they make you feel as if they're somone but just like any alien person you pass by on the trafficked-street. You are then left with no other alternative than actually gettin dumbstruck.

Getting the same feeling, I turn onto my rest best-friends waiting for me in the hidden shafts of my buzzing-mind.

Well, its the same all over again. Another batch passing out of the school, with an enormous pomp. Also with a remarkable bidding, though, considering how special we were held in the eyes of the teachers.

School.....its all back to it. Say the name of my school: S-B-O-A, aloud, and my eyes get still moist. Talk about it, and it gets worse. I'm not used to claim myself as an "Ex-student" of the school I've been walking in since my toddling-years, after all. What's more, it even all started from this same institution on earth.

It was here that I learnt to converse in languages, other than my mother-tongue. It was here that I started saying “I didn’t bring,” instead of “I didn’t brought,” (but that improvement was right back in my Third-standard, mind you,). It was here that I learnt two plus two equals four. (C'mon everyone knows that, er-don't they?) It was here that I learnt Apples fall on the ground due to Gravity (Why didn’t Newton wonder at Pears falling on the ground?). It was here that I learnt Gobi Desert lies in China and not in India. (See the name? Gobi?). It was here that I learnt George Washington was the First president of the US and not Abraham Lincoln (Now get that!).

But its all not the same, now. No more of demanding PT periods to the other subject-teachers in return of completing Homeworks before time. No more of visits to the staff room alongwith neck-high towers of books of the class, remaining for correction. No more of glimpsing in the classroom through its window to see what's being taught, when punished outside for not being attentive. No more of bunking the periods with the excuse of getting the bladder full. No more of commenting on the teachers with friends when something's being taught; and then, getting beaten by a chalk, or, at the most, a ball-pen by the teacher. No more of being caught sleeping under the last desk when the dullest period is going on. No more of the same-old-rivalry between two classes for top-scoring, for winning the inter-class award, for topping the sporting events, and, for every-single-competitive-thing. No more of excited voices that'd be eagerly anticipating the Next-School-Captain. No more of studying until the last minute given before the examinations, and still, cursing "that tough-paper," No more, of roaming the corridors in groups of friends during intervals. No more of these years, itself.

The end of every farewell carries the same message: The hope that the students will brighten the name of the school and make it proud in the future. Just like the Moon gets illuminated by the light of the Sun, and then learns to spread its own, white-light on the Earth: The teachers are the Sun, the students: the Moon. And the End-of-the-farewell-message is thus founded into its being a fact.

School is an institution, a foundation, which inculcates numerous values, encourages good habits, teaches one to respect others and self, and most importantly, school is that building which ultimately exercises one's empathy. School, itself, is a second home.

Everyone passes through this stage in their life. Some with joy for being free at last, some with grief of leaving the school, and some, with just an excuse to pass onto the College-life. I do not come into any of the categories. These are my sentiments, these are my emotions, these are my feelings regarding my school. I do not think of being rational. But I am not grieved, even. This was a stage I needed to pass: Just like any other milestones in my life. But perhaps this Milestone will be the most cherished, most celebrated, and the most remarkable one of my life. These, are the Cross-Roads of my life.

Life takes a turn.....Sometimes for the best, Sometimes for the worst. But the best is what I hope for....What everyones hopes for.