Good Ol’ Days


The bus ride today seemed superbly stiller than usual. A fairly uneventful ride. Until off course, we came near my school. Ah…and in came tiny lil’ girls dressed in cobalt blue and with them rushed to me memories, nostalgia, happiness, sadness and nausea. I sat there feeling all these blended feeling which I could barely tell apart.
Every time my dad drives me past the main road near my school, a part of still wishes he’d turn right and I’d open my eyes and be a school girl again. It’s been more than four years and still feel that way.
I bet those girls in the bus where 6th or 7th graders. It’s strange how local jokes haven’t changed. Some fat lady was shoving past a girl and she turned to her friends and said, “Like Ms. Pushpa (name changed) Na, Baby elephant” (The name of the teacher has been withheld out of respect).
Some jokes (even if they aren’t funny) last forever.
I tried to eavesdrop on their conversations and failed miserably to control my laughter. I miss that age where everything is novel and there’s such an enormous need to discuss even the minutest of nonsensical detail with your friends. And my eyes fell upon their badges. I almost forgot about our ‘squads’. I was a sunflower; Sammy was a lily and Harsh, a rose. I sniggered out loud. I still have my batch preciously tucked in cotton! We were so loyal to our squads but we never really fought about it. Except maybe on Sports day when the three of us would march in honor of our respective squads.

I was a sunflower…

The spoilt brat with boy cut hair.

Who always got away with wearing her uniform oh-so-very short because her teachers eventually got tired of telling her to open up the hem.

Who was very difficult and bossy.

Who always made her presence felt.

Who thought she had to be in almost every extra-curricular activity. Mandatory.

Who was propped up from the class clown to class leader and screwed it up big time. Uncool class leader. All strict and law abiding.

Who according to a popular class survey was voted (and I quote) The most ‘Proudy’ girl.

Who made a mountain of a mole when she fractured her pinky finger in the 7th grade and was immensely touched by her friends and teachers bending backward to take care of her.

Who used to get a major high from ditching school and forging leaving notes, all with the permission of her parents.

Who wouldn’t pray during assembly but would sing hymns gladly.

Who vividly remembers the spots where we would meet early in the morning before assembly.

Who feels guilty for still not remembering the younger girl’s name that used to ‘reserve’ a seat for her in the bus.

Who still remained an MCC cadet even when all her friends made fun of her khakki hawaldar uniform.

Who surprisingly enjoyed being by herself during MCC which was another name for ‘cut social service class and walk around for 1 whole hr ’. A big scam I tell you.

Who always had catch phrases of her own like ‘Exactlieeee’ (say it like you read it), and ‘So mean’

Who was the oldest kid in the school bus

Who got goose bumps every time we sang the school anthem and still remembers the words.

Who misses Ms. Nazareth, Ms Giselle, Ms. Genevieve, Ms. Ameria, Ms.Leticia and Sister Cellcie

Who used to love riding the school bus at 7am on cold winter mornings because she loved watching the sunrise.

I was a sunflower…

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