Forever and Always

‘The leaves of memory make a mournful rustle in the dark’. These words by Longfellow flit past my mind as I write this. Walking down the corridors of my school once again is like living through the past once again, turning those pages of the book of my life which had been forgotten long ago, remembering those tiny incidents, the innumerable pranks, lost somewhere in the pages of history. As I walk down those corridors, so familiar, with the flood of memories accompanying every nook and corner, and yet so strange, with the newness, but always inviting, I can hear unending laughter, resounding within the four walls, on jokes cracked long ago, memories flash past of the tears that came inevitably with every exam, of tantrums, of morning assemblies, of homework not done, of excuses, of punishments. The classrooms I was once part of, the school fields that still bear the subtle imprints of my footsteps, like a snowflake of winter, unique in its individuality, that lovely amaltas tree that was our favourite haunt, I want to take them with me, so that I can never again lose those precious moments that make school life unforgettable. Little things, mundane in their existence when we go through them, yet made so valuable down the years, antiques that become more precious with age. Those plays that we acted out in class, in the auditoriums, Macbeth, The Tempest, and a few written by ourselves, those pebbles in the corner we used to spin tales about, the belief that our wish will be fulfilled if we go round the ‘Big Field’ seven times, march pasts every Wednesday, the school library. There’s so much to remember that I forget. But something that stands out are the faces of my teachers, more like friends, just older and wiser, the lessons, the free periods, the jokes we used to share, the practical classes, games, the scoldings, the rebukes of long ago. But after such a long time, one forgets the scoldings and disciplinary measures, one remembers instead the love and affection showered on us lavishly, with which we were guided and nurtured to what we are today; and one responds with matchless bonding. My school is that part of my life that I hold dearest to my heart.