“You’re son is too slow. He doesn’t write much. The others write well, why won’t he?”, said my nursery class teacher to my mother. And that’s where it all began, SCHOOL, our second home. Believe me, it’s a cruel place, who has given them the rights to keep humongous parts of our heart and soul without whom we cannot exist?

For fourteen long years, I have felt every single human emotion here. Brothers in disguise of friends and, guides in disguise of teachers make this experience (literally) once in a lifetime.
As soon as the day starts, there is this constant reminder,” School, School, School” ringing at the back of your head until you tie the laces and set out for the day. On entering, those sun-kissed and familiar refreshed faces surround you and start that same old discussion,” How many goals did that team concede?” or “ Do you know that this is this and it’s going to be that!” All kinds of bric-a-brac nonsensical stuff start to fly about.

On comes the indistinct murmur during the assembly but,everyone stands in attention rapt during the national anthem. An incredible sense of nationalism and energy sweeps past us as the assembly concludes and we head back to our classes with new found optimism.
Worst part during the early stages is your name being called twice during the attendance, you are gone for!

Let’s face it! The first period never happens(xD). Slowly but steadily passes all the classes and on comes the lunch break. If you aren’t those ”boyesh hoe gache vai….” people, break time is freedom.

But before that, important business is to be taken care of, “TIFFIN”. Within a blink of an eye, all the colourful containers lose its content. All the martyrs and warriors return after the break while the class has already started. The short break is indeed too short. It’s used to sort up the curious cases of cumbersome connections. Amidst all these lies the occasional “get out of the class”, “may I go to toilet” and much more.

Time and tides wait for none they say… when that last period bell tings all is in a hurry to get home as soon as possible to attend the tuition or that post-school beauty sleep. It’s easy to put pen to paper and scribble on but in reality, it’s different. Having written all these , let me tell you it won’t be the same again, as we are the so called ex-students now!

When I see the little boys and girls, who are in tears, clutching to their parents with all their might as they don’t want to go to school, it feels so strange because they will again be in tears when they will step out of that gate for the very last time!

Thank you, friends,juniors,seniors and family.
Thank you, teachers.
Thank you, Methodist.
Thank you Pearls of God.
That’s my little tribute to school life. I tried to write something.

thank you for reading!