I remember- the assembly hall and prayers, the graffiti in the toilet, the gossip between the classes, the hide-n-seek and lock-n-keys, the alphabets and numbers, my drawing book, the nursery games, my seniors in full trousers, my juniors with running nose, the swings I never dared to ride, the volleyball games I never played, the 15th Augusts and 21st Februarys*, the Friday parades, the Saturday holidays, the craft classes I bunked, the practicals I escaped, the geography classes I slept in, the long anxious wait for computer practicals, the spelling-dictation tests, the maths classes I hated, my Physics sir and his abuses, my English teacher, the maths tables, the rhymes, the school van, the biology books, the boring chemistry, the hawkers outside the school gate, the ever vigilant gatekeeper, the remarks in my report card, the zeros in maths class tests, the why-so-short tiffin-times, the project works and scrapbooks, the Annual Concert and Fest, the Radhaballavi during the Annual Exhibition, the mango trees, the open school stage, the meditation room, the late signs in my school calendar, the rainy days, the summer vacations, the smell of new books, the school badge and tie, returning home with soiled school uniform, the "get out of the classroom"-s, the imposition monster, the empty Fun Munch packets, the silence in the library, the money wasted on my biology box(it's still lying in my cupboard unused), the apron packet, the test tubes I broke in full sense, our dream magazine Sparkle, our famous ABCD Group and its secret missions, the writings on the blackboard, the roll calls, the "good morning teacher" and "I will never do it again(I used to repeat again and again), the brown papers and labels, the broken chalk pieces, the free classes, the result days, the Parent-Teacher meetings, the term exams, the homeworks I forgot, the synonyms and antonyms, the Tuqlaks of history, the Timbuktu of geography, Don Quixote and other stories from Radiant Reader, the matras in Bangla(well almost), the time-table, the piano room and Shakti House, the Sports Day, the friendly rivalries among the school Houses, my classmates I lost contact with but want to meet again, the infatuations(now I know the spelling and meaning both), the thrill of appearing in the board exam, the farewell day, the essays and letters, the loitering in the corridors, the instances when I escaped unnoticed with unpolished shoes from a surprise inspection, the game of football with brick pieces, the ping-pong cricket sessions, the chess tournament we organised in Class-V, the table-tennis board, our rival group SFFS(the name of their group kept on changing with the number of members they had), the partial teaching (I don’t like calling them teachers) and non-teaching staff, the Pechandra, the stories we developed between classes (Bees saal , TBMM and Lemre), the nicknames of my classmates, the bicycle of one of my dear friend, the Karate expert in my classroom(he is no longer my friend), the white canvas shoes and the black Naughty Boy shoes, the cruel third language teacher, the reluctant Bengali ma’am, the first day of every new session, the ‘Ratna’ of our class, the Jhanta Claus, our secret hideouts, Enid Blyton, the 6 books I lost in Class-VIII, the water bottles and tiffin boxes I forgot and lost eventually, the notorious tiffin stealer(s) of our class, the flat nose of one of my friend, our German teacher whom we fondly called ‘Mem aunty’, the wounds in the knee, the school bags, Natraj pencils and erasers(I used to call it rubber), the peculiar madame who unsuccessfully tried to teach us French in French, the last minute revisions before exams, the question papers, the thatched classrooms, the rabbits and the peahen, the Bill of our school, the Pondicherry trip, the funny Hindi sir, the small yet beautiful lake, the school printing machine, my Principal who is no more, the moral science classes, the PT classes, the last day in school, the goondas of our class, the fights with fake bullets, criss-cross and book cricket, the weekend recitation club, the Rabindra Sangeet we learnt in Class-III, the plays I enacted, the school captain I adored and the one whom I hated, the prefects and the unfair advantages they enjoyed, the stars I earned in class assignments(specially the one that I earned in Class-III), one of my computer teacher, one of my maths teacher(for the wrong reasons), my gang of friends….I remember my school days.
About the title: The name of my school is The Future Foundation School.
* The Mother's birthday- an important day in our school calendar
I’m a slow starter by birth. I remember my mother narrating her agony about my first step and first word. I was late in both the cases. I was almost two years old when I uttered my first word, relieving my apprehensive parents who were counting days before consulting a speech therapist. Similarly, I started walking late in this world. The tradition continued ever since.
