'Memories play a vital role, they shape a person'. ~ My own :D
My eyes welled up, after so long just to, be in that Paradise, enjoy the warmth of the greenery, walk the unending corridors of happiness, sit on the stone bench and watch a match of KINGS, eat in the colossal dining hall, wait for my VOILA bus in the same spot, run in the basketball court and to finally, meet old pals, thus bloomed my memories, bringing tiny drops of happy tears to my eyes. A voice, very loud in my head, pining and yearning for the lost nostalgia, screams 'Love you La Chatelaine'.
But those memories, will they ever come back?
-The days when we were mere shenanigans, running around the school quadrangle, exchanging happy laughters, being yelled at by teachers, awing at people with impeccable English, being scolded by math teachers for 'poor performance' and earning accolades at prize distribution ceremonies all the same! Will the sweet voice of my music teacher, the wonderful diction and prowess of my English teacher, the adeptness and ease of my math teacher and the condescending scorns of my Physics teacher ever match anyone's?
|My Alma Mater - La Chatelaine|
The only thoughts my little head was swarmed by were those of my crush, his smile, the way he spoke and expressed himself, his ironed uniform, the way he ran all over the place and his brilliant articulation and command over the English language. I was swayed by everything that he did, the way he walked, his exceptional oratory skills and of course the theater demon in him. Everything about him, inspired me. Well, in other words, it has made me who I am today. Writing something as personal as this on my blog, is to not let the world know what sort of crush I had, but the fact that I drew inspiration from the person who I adored so much.
One would say I was sort of a misled single child, clad in a school uniform with long thick hair and blinked ferociously through my glasses when asked to solve complicated problems from a Math textbook, I was horrified of wearing my own glasses, for I was used to people addressing me as 'sodaa buddi', meaning Glasses as thick as the soda bottle, not something that any bespectacled person would relish. I could not solve a sum to save my life. I was labeled the 'mediocre' in Math class, the 'Annoying English Enthusiast' in English class and the 'Notorious Competitor' in French class. Well, there's a story behind why these names even came up in the first place :)
Math - whatever I did, or tried doing, I seemed too slow to let my fingers out to calculate something. I was scared of LCM and HCF. I detested having to learn the tables. Well, wait. This is after failed efforts from my mom's side to relentlessly sit everyday after work to teach me how to solve these problems. She gave up on me and my only aim in life was to cross the usual 65 mark which I was so used to getting. I tried tried and tried, only in vain but was much better in other subjects. Well, now you know why the name 'Mediocre in Math'.
If there was one subject that I truly and with all my heart enjoyed, it was English. I did not look at it as a subject, but as a big book of interesting stories with relevant questions in the middle. I was enamored by the stories I came across, found interesting conversations to be kindled with my grandfather who usually seemed to know more detailed descriptions of the stories. And so, in class, I would have extra information, which I didn't really look at as 'showing off' but as 'sharing of' information. This, irritated the many usual nerds in class. Well, at the end of the day, I was the teacher's favourite. Now, who won? :P
French. Well, this, is a story that I have to most definitely describe in detail. Maybe in my next post? :)
Now, talking about memories, when I began this post, I wasn't sure if I would ever relive those days, but I just did, at the very fag end of my blog post, when words began to ebb and when tears began streaming down my cheeks, knotting my throat and freezing my fingers to a stop, only to cork my overflowing emotions.