As I sip real hot coffee from my super-duper-extra-wextra-dextra large coffee mug, my mind tries to recollect what I was thinking the other night before going to bed.*Scratches head in desperation*
I’m going to write about my school days. Of all the good and bad things happened to me in my life, Campion was probably the best. I had spent two miserable months in Bhopal in seventh grade – during which time I was not in Campion. I had heard a lot about it, especially from my father. He used to tell me in his semi-broken semi-Persian type English “beta, you will must go to the kempeon in the next year”. Then I had to return to Indore to finish the seventh grade. And after I passed it barely with oh-god-thank-god 56%, I was ready to rock Campion – the school of toppers – only for boys.
My mother was not really confident about me making it into the school. She had started consoling me even before I left Indore. “Its no big deal beta. On the contrary, there are some potential risks that are associated with boys’ schools… like drugs and all… you know what I mean”. A couple of years later when someone from office said the same, she replied “you’re probably saying this because your son couldn’t make it there”. But papa was always sure I’d make it.
So the day arrived. 22 June 1998. Still a jaundice patient me, went in the school and gave the goddammit paper. The results were out next day. One of my earlier classmates had made it in the list. But why was I so happy about it? Why was I not looking for my name in the list? Because his (name) was the first. “Saala kutta Bhograju Srinivasa Chandrasekhara kadipatta idli dosa first aagaya!!”
But it was there. Nineth (of hundred odd). So was this good news? Campion had such repute that it took only 2 students per class even if they had to start a new class. But then there was a Note at the bottom right of the list. This note, unlike the ‘conditions apply’ note that we occasionally see in the newspaper, was in bigger font than the result itself. That was probably because they wanted every parent to read that before kicking their son’s ass (no daughters applicable, please). The note read: ‘The first 16 students would be considered for admission in class VIII’. And as I turned – still widely confused like a 6 year old looking at the scientific calculator – I read the golden words on a dilapidated wooden board: “Thou shalt blah blah blah…”. Welcome to Campion.
Its been eight years, and my memory has faded pretty much. The only thing I remember before joining school was the joy and happiness I saw in Late Shri Subhash Chandra Sarode’s eyes. He told me once “it’s a different feeling. I also had it when I made it to Bal Vinay Mandir”. He bought me bag, clothes, uniforms, books, and what not. And one evening when he was really happy, he told me “ab yahaa do bachelors rehte hai!”. ‘You’ve had enough for today’, I said.
So the school started. The ambience was really different from the south-indian school in which I had studied earlier. They had a temple, we had church. They had yellow buses, we had white (Although now both have yellow buses). They had ‘Games period’ everyday, we had thrice a week (shit!). We had canteen. We had 100 acres. We had no girls. We had Peter Michael. Their’s was a school, ours was Campion. And then it all started. After a very tough and hard year, I began to come on track. Class VIII taught me what struggling meant. I mean, I succumbed in every subject – even in English, which I thought I was good in.
Ninth was the year of Renaissance. I started studying, eventually foduing in every subject. I was exceptionally good in Social Science, particularly in History and Civic, because I made notes of the subject everyday. I was promoted as an NCC Air Wing Seargant. It was the class in which I fell in love for the first time. And for the only time (not in with anyone in Campion, Of course).
Campion taught me to pick habits. Every school does. But Campion also taught me to quit habits.
Class X and onwards:
After countless unsuccessful attempts of trying to become a class captain, I was finally elected. This episode ended with me adding one more word in my vocabulary – deceit. What happened with me pretty much happened with Dharam Singh yesterday. I couldn’t even participate in the swearing in ceremony. The good thing in Campion was that it made us learn ourselves. I was pretty much heartbroken after my allies turned against me during the class captain elections. But it taught me that standing on the podium and taking the badge was not responsibility. The responsibility is to be able to stand infront of nine hundred boys with your head held high spitting in their faces and telling them “That’s why I’m standing here, and you’re there”. Eventually, I was nominated as School Magazine editor in eleventh grade (my shot at the podium as the member of Executive Council), and I won nomination for School-Captaincy, and Gandhi house Prefect elections – both of which I lost with pride.
School was great fun. It gave me five friends who stood for me every time I needed them. When I joined Campion, I was a simple, cute and fat boy who cried a lot. I was pretty much the same when I left after five years, but people knew me.
