School

I cried when I had to take my first step towards you.
That building of the school, those benches and the atmosphere – everything was new.

I had a way of speaking which was hard to understand, 

I had to muster all my courage to even properly stand.
Days passed, that building grew familiar;

Now I didn’t cry,

Instead, in our uniforms, all we could do is fly.

I loved the blackness of the board and whiteness of chalk,

I loved being with my ‘folks’.

I loved playing hopscotch, drawing square boxes and jumping around.

I loved playing with stones; 

I loved every bit of those days, I was never alone.

Though home works were scary,

But, I managed, at times just barely.
More days passed, that building became my identity;


My uniform became my pride;

Hopes rose high and so did our stupidity.

We had small dreams, just finish ‘boards’ and life would be easy.

In midst of all this we had our first crush, one look enough to make us dizzy.

Love at first sight mixed with innocence;

Love letters were transferred in teachers presence.

Some got caught, some escaped,

But the naughtiness of innocuous days continued.
‘Reproduction’ was to be taught and exams were near,

The attendance reached the summit because of the chapter.

We enjoyed every bit of it, without a doubt,

In that moment we did feel mischievously proud. 
More days passed and we had to take that last step out of that building, 

I cried – we all cried.

Heart felt heavy, mind was numb,

‘Never say goodbye’, we all decided to play dumb.
Those days, we just wanted to grow, run away, to be in college soon,

We didn’t realise then that school was a boon.

We had to grow only to realise that growing is a mistake,

Not something but everything now seems of distaste.
We have cried for years,

remembering every memory that is dear-

That building in which we lost ourselves, 

Those walls that confided in us.

Now that building is memory, that uniform torn, and we are in search of an identity that would last.

Now, we realise, melody was in ‘good morning’ song;

The curves of the six letters is where we did actually belong.

Sweetness was in teachers stick;

True were those bunks, with an application, “with due respect, I am sick”.
I pine, I crave, I long,

For those days that are now long gone.

If it were only memory of those days I wouldn’t mind, 

However it’s me whom I lost and am yearning to find.

Maybe I will find her maybe I will not,

But those days I can never forget.

Tears along with a smile will always roll,

Whenever I look back and think of my school.

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