Its always the encouragement and enthusiasm imparted to you by good friends that help you to carry on and do many more things in life. I have many good friends, and some of them on twitter. Yes. I do have friends on twitter. And yes. There are ‘real’ people on twitter, as long as you are real.
And it is by the suggestion of one of those lovely twitter friends that I am blogging this. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy reminiscing my school memories.
Once upon a time, not too far off in the past, I was asked to give a farewell speech. Not a farewell speech for a friend going back to his home town, neither was it for a friend or a relative shifting off to a far off place. It was for my own farewell. My farewell from my school. I was leaving my school.
Leaving to tread new paths in this wild jungle of the modern world. Leaving to learn to fend for myself and to learn to survive in the harsh world, outside the wonderful cocoon that my life had been all these years. And no, I wasn’t going to join any Hunger Games reality show.
I remember a quote from a book, The Kite Runner, by Khalid Hosseini,” Life is a train journey. Welcome aboard.” The situation that it is mentioned in, in the book is vastly different from mine, but it is good enough to paint a bleak picture of what was running through my mind when I received my college acceptance letter.
Yes, I agreed. Life is truly a train journey. When I was small, I got into a train (I was pushed into it, by my parents, to be precise) when I joined kindergarten and I traveled in it, till now. But I have to say, that train was smooth. In fact, very, very smooth when I consider the journey ahead. It has taken me till its last station, my final year at school. Now I have to get down, with all my emotional, physical and nostalgic memories that, that journey has given me and wait in this station for the next train to take me on. Its during that wait that I write this for you, my readers. I write this, because I feel I have not given that journey, the importance it deserves. But as I converse with my fellow passengers, I realize that it is a collective feeling.
When I gave that farewell speech, I wanted, really badly wanted to beg a favour from my lovely juniors. I wanted to tell them this:
“If ever you guys see me or any one else of us, the graduating seniors, wandering through these hallowed corridors of our schools or you see us staring through the glass panes set in the doors of our classrooms, its not because we want to enjoy seeing you suffer the pains of school work but because we are living through you, our memories of school life. Those days of punishment, the anxious minutes of finishing homework before the teacher comes into the class, the lousy excuses to get out and so on.”
But then I realized, everything had a way. If I said that then, no one would ever take me seriously. No one would realize the pain with which I wrote or said that. So, I cut it. With red ink, to discourage me from saying it. I left it. I knew they would realize it, when their turn came. So, I resorted to wandering through the corridors, and yes. They, the current students, scorned me, made fun of me. I am waiting brothers, for one day you will know the pain that comes of being a stranger in a place which you called home for 14 years, a place where you grew up, a place which holds memories that you would be most reluctant to leave.
I assure you, that if you could not connect with this post, then maybe you ought to go and have one more lifetime of schooling, for your school life would not have been as good as others had.
Every time I glance at my farewell speech, I remember this quote:
Yes. That’s enough. Now leave me to finish wiping off my tears and to gather my luggage, for I see my train rushing into the station to take me off.