Life of a student

I rarely tell this story to anyone. I had told this story only to those who required to hear it; mainly to encourage them.

This story shares a stark contrast to my personality. Today, I see myself as a stong woman who can control her emotions, someone who can hold back the tears as per their wishes; someone who is always considered to hold the fort when the going gets tough. I was not always like this. Once upon a time I was a little girl who would cry a lot. The reason that made her cry was "The school".

When I was three, my mother had enrolled me in a playschool. The teacher who used to run the playschool was my relative. I enjoyed going there. There were other students too. They became my friends. Everything was fine, until it was the day when my actual school started.

It was the first day of my school. I don't know what I was feeling. I knew I was going to experience something new today. My mother took me to the school. I still was not scared, sad, excited, or happy. My mother took me to the classroom. I saw some of my friends from the playschool. But here the atmosphere was different. It was too noisy, unlike the calm atmosphere at the playschool. I saw around that the children (by that time I did not know they were my classmates) were crying loudly. I found the noise unbearable. I felt suffocated in that atmosphere. I turned around and saw my mother leaving. Now I was scared. Not because my mother was not going to be with me, but probably because I hated when anybody cried. I was not tolerant to loud noises. That moment both things were happening simultaneously. My mother turned around. I looked at her and I lost any control I had at that age. Tears started flowing. I started crying. Not loudly but quietly. My mother stopped. A lot of parents were taking their children home because they were crying. My mother followed the suit. My first day at the school was only for 10 minutes.

After going home my parents consoled me that I would learn, play, and have fun at school. I should not cry. I listened. But same thing happened the next day. Looking at the crying children, I started crying too. This time no patent was allowed to take their children home. We all cried the entire day. This was the story every day. I would decide that I would not cry and go to school. After seeing my peers crying, I would start crying too.

Then everyday I would make excuses to not go to the school. Some days my mom would listen and let me stay home. Some day she would still take me to the school. I would never cry on the street or make a scene. But I would cry at the school. This crying saga continued for I don't know how long.

Then there was one time, when my mother told me that she does not go home but she stands behind the window of my classroom. She sees me through the window. That definitely gave me some courage. That day at school, I was about to cry but didn't cry because I knew my mother is standing by the window. I controlled my tears and went to the window. My mother wasn't there. But somehow I did not cry that day. After school I told my mom that I did not see her at the window. She said she stands near the other window and hence I would not be able to see her (spoiler she went home). I believed her. She also told me I should not come looking for her. I followed her instructions. That day onwards my daily crying was reducing. But still I would cry.

Afterwards my parents told me something that changed my entire outlook. My aunt was a teacher. My parents said my teacher is also an aunt, not my aunt but someone's aunt. Think about the teacher as an aunt and everything will seem fine. And it did. That made a huge impact on me. I was no longer crying at school. I had started enjoying the school. I made new friends. Learnt new songs. Learnt numbers and alphabets. Learning journey that started with tears was now heading towards knowledge. I was no longer a crybaby.

Today these memories make me feel emotional. At that time, schools were strict. Teachers were not soft and friendly. Yet, still we went to school and maybe that is what made us resilient.

Even today, when I see a child crying while going to the school, I remember my school days. I thank god that they are over.

When I was in school, the schools were not glamorous. Most schools were just tired buildings, painted in beige or grey colour. They would look sad and gloomy. Our classrooms to had no glamour. All classrooms used to look the same. White walls, a black board, wooden brown benches, wooden table for the teacher, a chair, an old cabinet for keeping the daily teacher's register. Looking at today's vibrant and decorative classrooms, I feel that we were treated like second class citizens in the school.

My school was a 4 story building which had 18 classrooms, a community hall, a laboratory, and a huge playground. At least that was what we were told. In reality, the school had 19 classrooms with 1 always closed.

This particular classroom was on the second floor of the school next to the laboratory. It was secluded. In front of this classroom an open cabinet was kept for "lost and found" stuff. The cabinet would block the entrance of the classroom. This was a reason why for a long time we were not aware of the existence of this classroom.

I was in grade 7 when I got to know about this classroom for the very first time. Me and few of my classmates were going to participate in a competitive examination, representing our school. Our teacher had arranged some sessions for us. These sessions were before our school hours. Our school used to be at 12:30 and these sessions were to start at 11. We came to the school only to find out that there was no empty classroom for the session. Our teacher asked the school caretaker to open "that" classroom. The caretaker was hesitant but he had no option but to open the classroom. This was the first time we got to know that there was a 19th classroom in the school.

We sat in the classroom and our session began. The classroom was dusty as noone had used it in years. Cobwebs were everywhere. The classroom had a weird mushy smell. Probably of fungus or moss. The air in that classroom felt different - moist, heavy, dusty. We all were looking at each other as if we all were sensing the same weird feeling. But nobody said anything out loud.

Sometime later another senior teacher arrived at the classroom door. She asked our teacher to come outside of a minute. Both teachers' faces said something. As if they knew something was wrong; they had done something they were not supposed to do. The expressions on their faces were fear mixed with guilt. Our teacher came back and asked us to pack up and head to another classroom. We followed the orders. That day during our regular classes, another senior teacher came to our class to tell us never to go near "that" classroom.

We never got to the answers to some of our questions about the mysterious classroom: Why was it kept hidden? Despite crunch of space, why was that classroom never used? Why it was forbidden to go near that classroom? Why the air felt different in that classroom?

After so many years, we still discuss that incident and the classroom. It still is a mystery.

26 July 2005 is not just a date. Not for me. Not for any Mumbaikar. It is a date that we can never forget. It is a chapyer of my life. This chapter contains a lot of stories. While it was a devastating day for most of us, in my case it taught me a lot.

26 July 2005, it was a sunny Tuesday morning. Sunny morning in July in Mumbai is a rare occasion. It indeed was a rare occasion. I was leaving for college. I told my mother that I would be home around 6, I had practicals that day.

Everything was normal until afternoon. Then it started raining. Really heavy downpour. Heavy rains are normal in Mumbai, but this felt different and unusual. It was horribly heavy. We were in the college, around 2 pm, we were informed about the water logging and disruption of train service. We still took it casually because the city gets heavy rains every year. But we did not know this time it was not normal.

By 3 pm, everything stopped. The phone lines got jammed. The electricity started fluctuating. There was panic everywhere. But our college made a brave decision for our safety. We were told not to leave the college. If needed we had to stay in the college. We were scared at first, but there was no other option.

That night I stayed at college along with other students and professors. The college cafeteria made khichdi for us with their limited inventory. Our college had a few rooms for guest facilities. The management opened the rooms and asked girls to stay there. In one room 10-12 girls stayed. By this time, we had given up the hope of returning to the home soon. But as soon as we gave up the hope, we started to have fun. That night none of us slept. Along with me there were girls from different streams. We did not know each other or even were able to see each other's faces. But we still talked, exchanged stories, played antakshari, and spoke about horror experiences. We were a community, a family that night.

Few college seniors and professors were closely tracking the weather updates and the train status. Next morning around 6, a senior student came to each room to tell us that the trains would soon be operational. A few trains will run for a couple of hours. We decided to leave.

Outside our college, the street wss flooded. We all students made a human chain and started marching towards station. While walking we were loudly singing inspirational and patriotic songs to keep our spirits high. The walk that generally required 10 minutes took 2 hours due to the water logging. We reached the station and got a train that was leaving towards my side of the town. I reached home safely.

Compared with other people who were stuck on 26th July due to rain, my stuggle was easy. The college management helped us a lot. They ensured our safety and took care of us like parents. I would forever be thankful for their kindness.

That night taught me the valuable life lessons of humanity, kindness, and resilience. It became a memorable event of my life as a student.

If you are a science student you know the value of a lab assistant very well. The lab assistant is the lifeline of the entire lab. They know the experiment better than the professors. They know all the trick to perform the experiments. Though most of the lab assistants had never received a formal education in science, they still know how the experiments are to be performed. Rather they are the experts of their field. They may not know that theory but they know the application of that theory masterfully. They know the hacks to get the experiment right every single time.

I have had my fair share of interaction with the lab assistants throughout my student life. In my junior college I had met some corrupt lab assistants. They ask for money in the name of "refreshment" after the exams got over. They did noy help me during the exam. Rather I did not even ask for their help during my practical exams. Yet they had the audacity to ask for "refreshment" after the exams got over.

In my junior college after the board practical exams got over all students were called to principal's office. He asked her weather the lab assistants demanded any "refreshment". While the students who had provided the refreshments to the lab assistent outright denied such occurrence. I told the professor that the lab assistant did approach to me for the "refreshment". The professor asked me for that and I had given all the required details. I don't know what happened afterwards.

When I joined the degree college, my experience with lab assistant was completely different. I have had bad experience with the lab assistant in the Junior college, so I was a little careful. I avoided speaking with lab assistants as much as possible. I was worried that lab assistants would also ask for money or "refreshment". However these lab assistant were completely different. These lab assistants were really helpful. They were really knowledgeable. They would help even during our regular practical and they would also help us during our exams. Their help was not exactly completing the experiment. But in the exam if they saw a student struggling they would help them with some of the tricks. If for any student they noticed that the experiment is not going well they would help the student by fixing it. They would do this without any expectation.

One of our lab assistant Mr Mohite was especially very kind. Once a student fainted in our laboratory. Mr Mohite was the first person to respond and help the student. He picked up the student and gave a chair to sit comfortably. Then he had prepared fresh lemon water for the student. He waited with the students till the time they started feeling better. Mr Mohite had a heart of gold. He was truly a hero and a legend.

When it was our college farewell we met all our professors. We also met our lab assistants. When we said goodbye to Mr Mohite, he was in tears. He said that in his entire career he had been very close to all the students from our bach. He also said that he felt as if every student in our batch was his child. What Mr Mohite said made us cry as well.

Few years later I went to the college for an alumni meet. I had delivered a lecture to the current students of the college. I did not know that Mr Mohite was also present in the crowd. After my lecture Mr Mohit came to meet me. I was delighted to meet him. Our Hero was now getting older and was soon to retired. I thanked him for everything he has done towards the college and what he was doing for all the students. He is smiled with happiness and said that it was good to see me on the stage and he was proud that I was successful in my life.

Lab assistant were integral part of my students life. People like Mr Mohite leave a lifelong impression on my student's life.

When I was in school, we were not allowed to use pens till we were in grade 3. In grade 1 and 2 we were only allowed to use pencils. During those years, pens were forbidden pleasures. It was a pure joy to write with a pen. I remember how eager I was to start using pens. When I finally started grade 3 we were allowed to use pens with a condition. Our teacher told us that we should only use ink pens.

Ink pens - the king of the world of stationery. In my opinion it is true. The ink pen would look so glamorous. They would have shiney metallic tip. They would be so smooth to write. It was so fast to write with the ink pens. In my opinion the handwriting would come so nicely with the ink pens. I loved using ink pens for that matter. My handwriting was already good but it would look so much better when I would write with ink pens.

Another part that I would love about ink pens is the maintenance of them. That time in pens would not come with cartridges. We had to manually fill the reservoir of the ink pens. It was an elaborate process which I would thoroughly enjoy. Taking out an ink bottle, extracting some amount using the ink pipette, pouring that ink into the reservoir of the pen, dropping a few drops back into the ink bottle. This process was a messy but equally entertaining. After filling up the reservoir of the ink pen, the hands would get stained because of the spilled ink. But it was still a fun experience. Sometimes while using the ink pen the hands would get stained because of the ink. Being kids at that time it did not matter at all. Most of the kids had their hands stained because of the ink pens. Those ink stains felt like tattoos in that age. Those were some amazing memories of using the ink pens.

As we grew up the use of ink pen started getting reduced. Moreover it was because of the tedious process of filling up the ink. Another disadvantage was that if the ink got spiled on the notebook the teachers would get very upset with it. To tackle these troubles I had decided to minimise my use of ink pens. I would use ink pens only when I would study at home and I would not take them to my school. But when I would use ink pens I would still enjoy a writing. It give me a unique happiness which nothing else was able to provide me.

After the school and college got over my overall use of pens got reduced. But I still have an ink pen which I used in my school. It is still in the good condition. Looking at it no one would even feel that it was used over 20 years ago. It is still good and writes still as well as it used to be 20 years ago. I still use it and write with it.

Even today when I write using that ink pen, it gives me a strange joy of nostalgia. It takes me back to my school days. I feel as if I am in grade 3, sitting on a bench and writing in my notebook. I feel like a child who is not worrying about the future. It is strange that what an old ink pen can make me feel. One thing is for sure, it makes me happy.

Life of a student does not necessarily end with their school or college. I believe life of a student goes on even further. Rather life of a student never ends. One of the events that brings back the memories of life of the student is the reunion.

How this topic inspired me? A few days ago I had received a phone call from my classmate. He was my classmate from my school. During the school time I had not spoken with him much. After the school we had accidentally met at railway station a couple of times. We had a small talk and we carried on with our respective lives. I had not been in touch with him or any of my classmate for over 10 years. Hence I was surprise to see that he had called me. When I spoke with him I got to know that a school reunion for our class has been planned. This is when I realised that the student's life never really gets over. It continues throughout the life. Only the stages of life change.

When he told me that the reunion will take place in December, only these words brought back several memories. I remembered my school building. I rememberd entering the school. I remembered how the staircase would look like. It was narrow but never congested. I remembered the school corridors. How there was no tubellite in the school corridors but the sunlight would light up the entire place. I remembered our classrooms. I remembered the wooden rustic benches. I remembered sitting in the classroom facing the blackboard. I remember so many things just when school was mentioned.

Now let me tell you something. I never particularly liked the school. Yes I was a good student. I was a school topper. I was the famous intelligent girl of my school. I was the student who would be sent to competitions and win medals. But still I always felt that I did not belongs in that school. I always got this feeling that I am only mediocre at the best. I had always this feeling that I should have received some coaching to progress ahead in my life which I never received at my school or college. I always felt in my school that I was not the best but I was better than the rest and hence the opportunities came to me.

When the fact remained unchanged. Being the studious girl of my class my classmates wanted me to take on the responsibility of hosting the entire event. I declined it. I think I am no longer even going to join the reunion. It is for the reason that I do not feel that I belong there. I do not feel that I belong with the group. I feel that I have drifted apart from that life. The school or teachers or classmates nothing is making me eager to go to the school. I am not excited for the reunion.

I know this will be a very debated topic. Most people look forward to their school or college reunion. And here I am who has be opportunity to host the entire reunion but decides not even to show up. I think this will be a part of my student life where I may probably continue to avoid attending any reunion. It could be an opportunity to reconnect, but I will take the hard pass.