Random Ramblings of a Reluctant Blogger

A question for architects. Is there a floating brick in a structure that can be taken out and used anywhere, be it the foundation, the pillar or a window without harming it but rather illuminating the structure? School memories are such. No matter where and when, a look back invariably brings on a smile. What one remembers is not what one has learnt academically but moments, friends and incidents with nary a morose moment. 

 I was excited in a curious sort of way when I walked into the DTEA, Pusa road school in the 8th form. Anxiety at that age needs some degree of imagination. So, despite me being a shy and introverted, I had little difficulty in integrating and belonging.  

My earliest remembrance is about our school’s sports selection day. One of the seniors was an undisputed athletics champion. Jumps, or sprints he was a winner and naturally had quite a fan (read girls) following.  As he soared over the long jump pit, the ‘oohs and aaahs’ exploded.  

Considering myself no less an athlete I was more than determined to soar past and I took my chance. I did clear quite a distance, but not enough to beat him. But more disappointing was the fact that the crowd had moved on, even before I landed, to watch the champion at his sprints! In my defence I still feel I had a good jump.  

We had in our midst a Harold Robbins expert. He used to sit the night out reading and diligently marking out the sleazier parts of all Robbins and Anonymous. The next day at recess we all gathered around him as he read those part out much to our delight. We were quite aware, then back in the late 70s, of all the Playboys, Hustlers and the Anonymouses. Were efforts made to get it? Not sure. 

I was among a group of middle benchers. More precisely a small group in the middle from where all the jokes, pranks, mischief and nick names emerged.  The brilliance I am in awe of is the nomenclature. That I still remember some of the delectable nick names, and not so much the names, of the girls in our class is a tribute to the ones who thought of it.  The moral police and the politically right group need not feel offended, for I am pretty sure the girls had their own version for us.  

The 70s was also of the bell bottoms, the long shirt collars and the platforms. One of our friends joined us in ‘The beautiful game’ with his brand-new platform shoes. Not under any FIFA guidelines meant it was a bit free-for-all. When he found the right opportunity, our friend let go off a fierce right footer. While some eyes, like true sportsmen were glued to the ball, our friend and a few others were gaping at a bare sole. The sole had liberated itself from the shoe and the platform no longer was.   

Our school canteen was no match for the modern-day food courts and eateries. But it made the most delicious dal-vadas. So good that mom would on certain days ask my younger sister, also studying there to pack some for home. Yes, she didn’t trust me to do the job.  

When school memories are all about bonding, friendships and innocent fun, why then, I wonder, do parents put so much pressure on children to excel in academics. Everyone eventually reaches where one aspires to, some sooner, some later. Let school, then be just about fun.