Last Night I had a dream. A dream which sounded so stupid when talked
about but at the same time....it created something very special within. Something very touchy. Something we do not think of usually.
The Dream was about my school- Seth M.R. Jaipuria school, Lucknow...which ranks among the top schools in India. Whenever someone asks about us, we proudly say....that we are Jaipurians. Its a very special feeling I cannot describe, and I'm sure....most of the Jaipurians will agree with me.
Anyways, let me begin with the dream. So here it goes:
I was sleeping when my mother woke me up saying there is a call for me. I thought about a moment, why will somebody call me up on the fixed line when they all know my cell number?(Of course, it was a dream, so some stupidity is bound to arise. So please keep patience and get on with it!) Never mind. I received the call and some lady with a feeble voice was at the other end. She inquired me about my identity. Finally she said, "Mr. Tarunendra...as you know it has been four years since the time you passed out from the Jaipuria School, so it's time for you to attend your last ceremony at the Jaipuria campus, after which your name will be forever deleted from the list of the students who ever studied in the school. If you wish to come, then please let me know by tomorrow. Also, forward this message to the students of your batch who might not get the message. Thank you."
So, the day had finally come. After every four years, a batch was eliminated from the Jaipurian memory forever. It would never be heard of again. We didn't actually know why they did it....but we guess that it was their method to clean out the unnecessary information stored in their central memory unit. We all found it weird while we were in the school. But soon we got used to it having seen 10-12 batches reuniting every year for the same purpose. We thought it would be the happiest day of our lives as we won't have to do anything regarding the place, which made our lives hell at school, in the future. But that was the time when we talked about leaving the school as soon as possible and never ever coming back again. But you see, it is all very different when you face that day.
It was a fine Sunday. But the school was open for all those who wanted to come to see and meet us. As expected, very few of them were interested. After all, we had passed through the same age. The school buses were available and running to the stops wherever they were instructed. Meeting the same old friends in the school bus gave quite a nostalgia. The only difference was that we were not in our uniforms which we wore for 12 years. We hugged each other, asking them where they were presently and their future plans etc. etc. all....but with a kip biting effort to control our emotions which would have overflowed any moment. It was still an hour to go before our bus...(Root number 5) would reach the campus. The driver was also the same with a fair amount of wrinkles underneath his eyes. He recognised us easily, saying,"Aur ustaad....kaise ho?" And we all had the same answer,"Bas badhiya...aap sunao." We thought we would discuss about so much things when we will meet together. But those moments of seeing each other become so mature in these four years hardly left us with something to say much.
Ahh!! here we arrived. 6 buses already came before and 2 were still awaited. We got down saying to the driver,"Aaj haar gaye. Baki sab pehle aa gaye." It was the last time we would have ever said that. We would have liked to be the first ones. But then, that didn't matter much.
And My Alma-Mater had changed quite a lot in these years. New buildings had taken the place of the canteen. The Bus stop had been shifted to the back-side. Everything was so new there. Only the fragrance and the essence of it was still the same. As we entered the big gate, the same old noise would make us feel that we had to stay there for 8 more hours. But this time it was different. We were allowed 12 hours....where we found 8 hours as heavy as Olympus. What an irony! But these 12 hours seemed so less.
Life is full of surprises.....we cry entering the school for the first time when we don't want to go there....and we cry leaving it, when we don't want to leave it! The irony of fate is this, whatever we do...we have a reason to justify ourselves.
Our staffs were still the same...most of them. New ones, we didn't know them but still tried to figure out,"Have I forgotten him? Who was he?" But at that point we were sure, we will remember each and every face we saw. Our old colleagues were back, all in formal wears, looking like working professionals. We would have called them uncle when we were in the school. But here we stand gazing how handsome they look now. Not to mention, our Jaipurian beauties all in Sari. Looking like the prettiest faces in the world. Our first loves, some of them still committed and some.......... The girls, whom we stared all along when we walked through the galleries; whom we whistled wherever we saw them with them hair open; and whom we proposed sitting on our knees with a flower in our hands, expecting a love life to begin. They were looking hell gorgeous. But there was a hitch when we talked to them. It wasn't like those days, where we would have talked shamelessly with a smile on our faces. Something was different. Probably the time was.
We visited every place in the school together, with the words such as,"Yaad hai, yahaan par.........". A few of us with our first loves, sitting in the children's park and talking about their present lives. The Casanovas were the Casanovas no more. While walking everywhere in the school, we didn't dare to touch the hands of those girls with whom we walked hand in hand through the verandas. Everything was so different. We tried to get over the hitch. But weren't able to. It was bigger than the doomsday. We never wanted to leave it like this. But it was a part of the Jaipurian tradition. We had to end it up like that. The Mud pools were still filled due to the showers that took place the previous night. The fragrance of Jaipuria was still rich and forever will be, as it has been for the past one and a half decades or so.
The Yoga by Baba Ramdev on the television set woke me up. Woke me up from a place where I wanted to be forever. When I woke up, I found my eyes filled with water. It was the "Magic". The Magic of a place which help us become whatever we are now. Thank God I'll never have to end up with "My Jaipuria" like the way I saw. Life is...but...a Midsummer Night's Dream. A dream worth dreaming....where we don't wanna wake up...and still continue with it...keeping aside all the ups and downs we experienced!
