Sunshine and Rainbows

Once when I was in Class I, I was made to stand in class and asked by my Class Teacher why my hair was disheveled and why I had not applied oil to it. I did not know the English for the carbuncle on my scalp that had prevented my mother from applying oil to my hair. I stood and fumbled trying to explain to her that there was some kind of painful ‘ball’ on my head which made my teacher smile compassionately. She called me to her to inspect the ‘painful ball’ and explained that it was a ‘boil’ and not a ‘ball’. I never forgot the word and so many other words like this, which helped to form my vocabulary and understanding of the language.

I remember the concerts that were organized by the school once every year and the fun we had during the rehearsals. Singing, dancing or enacting a drama on stage was no mean feat but we performed effortlessly thanks to our teachers, conquering our stage fright and remembering our part in the performance. This has been such an integral part of my being that I cannot imagine school life without the co curricular activities, be it cultural programmes, sports, house competitions, excursions or gardening. Now as the head of my institution I ensure participation of students in co curricular activities and strongly believe that they help in shaping young minds. Friendship is another aspect of school life that I continue to cherish. My first friend was Reshma, who is also a successful teacher now. I remember her bright eyes and friendly smile as she held out her hand to me, offering her friendship. It was my first day in school and I was definitely not in a good mood. Tears were welling up and I wanted to go home to my mother. Reshma’s confident smile had worked wonders that day. It had somehow convinced me that school days were going to be fun and there was no reason to feel homesick or insecure in the company of such a good friend. I made many friends later on in life, but the friendship of those early years of school life still continue to be the purest.

Once when I was in Class I, I was made to stand in class and asked by my Class Teacher why my hair was disheveled and why I had not applied oil to it. I did not know the English for the carbuncle on my scalp that had prevented my mother from applying oil to my hair. I stood and fumbled trying to explain to her that there was some kind of painful ‘ball’ on my head which made my teacher smile compassionately. She called me to her to inspect the ‘painful ball’ and explained that it was a ‘boil’ and not a ‘ball’. I never forgot the word and so many other words like this, which helped to form my vocabulary and understanding of the language.

There was a big field in our school and I remember the annual sports day. Our guardians would be invited on that day and participating or winning medals in their presence was a matter of great pride to me. I remember winning the first prize in a needle and thread race once. It was a proud moment for me as I stood on the victory stand earning points for Robert House. I received a cup that day. My parents were overjoyed, the joy of victory percolated to all the members of the family. The cup is still there in my mother’s glass-door show case. My parents always encouraged me, even if it was a prize for art and craft.
I was not the best student in my class, never having secured the first two ranks in the primary classes. But once I wrote an essay in class IV, which was highly appreciated by all my teachers. It so happened that my father suffered a heart attack on a fateful night. The memory of that terrible night was so etched in my memory that I could not forget it for days. So, one day in a class-test when we were asked to write about a memorable day, I described the incident of that fateful night. The essay had moved our teacher so much that she called me to the staffroom during recess and asked me to read it aloud to all the teachers present there . I noticed that she was moved to tears. She hugged me and I began to cry. She then took me to our Principal Sir who read the essay and decided to pay a visit to my house, with our Vice-Principal Sir, to see my father. I will never forget that day. That love, compassion and empathy were meaningful lessons that my alma mater represents. Here we are not only taught academics to perfection, we imbibe valuable lessons that define our very nature and shape our personality.

In all these years whatever I had learnt from my friends, teachers and Principal Sir went to form that great treasure trove from where I collect the gems to forge my life’s lessons even today. The discipline, camaraderie, kindness, honesty and a great desire to make a difference in the lives of those around, are lifelong lessons that help me in my journey and I owe it all to my alma mater. God bless my school, so that this great Institution continues to touch the lives of all who come to seek knowledge.