17 years.
It's been almost two weeks since I wrote my last paper, and voila, I'm a graduate now. As soon as I submitted my answer script, I found my way to the canteen, found one empty chair (unfortunately not under the fan) and sat down. There was nothing unusual about that day. I was quietly looking at what was happening around me. The same ambiance, the same canteen guy taking our orders, the same stereo playing some random Bollywood song which you don't get to hear over the loud voices shouting "Masala Dosa" or "Fried Rice" Why don't you serve Sujon Sticks during the exam season man, "cause oily food is not healthy?" Of course, the hustle of people going in and out of the canteen won't change. Never. Amid all this chaos, waiting for my juniors to come down, for a moment my mind stopped processing, and then, it hit me, straight and hard in the face. It's all over.
Little did I know when I stepped inside the premises of St. Francis Girls High School 17 years back that this name is going to stay with me for, like an eternity or rather I would not leave it until long. My interviewer asked me to name the color of the frock I was wearing then, I answered to that without even thinking twice, "boo." Blue is the only color I knew when I was two and a half years old and luckily I was wearing a blue frock when the teachers wanted to see how well I know the colors. It all started there, the story of how my father stood in the queue for getting my application form at 3 a.m. is still quite a popular one in my family. Now if amma made me wear some orange colored clothes or if my father thought he'll sleep for some more time instead of taking that application, my life would have been something else and it wouldn't have been as good as this one.
That school has made me what I am today. It gave me my first failure, it gave me my first merit certificate. It pushed me onto the stage and made me speak in front of the crowd in the morning assemblies. (Yeah, stage fear, who cares?) That school's teachers were patient enough to deal with me and would simply write "she is very talkative!" in the remarks column of my progress card.They taught me to go for that extra mile and clapped when I won the competitions. They saw a script writer in me for the class dramatics and that's really how you get to read not so bad posts from me, I guess. They chose me for the high school quizzing club and since then the quizzer in me never stopped being curious. The times when I hurt myself playing in the gravel ground and scrapped my knees twice a week has never done me any harm, it only taught me how to stand up on my feet after falling down. Most importantly, this school made me meet a few people I worship even today and few people without whom I can't solve a complex differential equation. It gave me memories to cherish and stories to tell. The place might not have prepared me to fight a battle with the outside world, but it indeed has shown me ways to be a better human being.
After successfully graduating secondary school, I got kicked into St. Francis Junior College, which happens to be right next to my school in Secunderabad. Technically, I didn't have to miss my school but those two years of Intermediate had more in the store for me than I ever thought. I don't know what grudge the universe had against me, I was placed in Section F, no, I'm not talking about the expletive, I'm only saying that particular class changed my life, to an extent.It was a whole new experience for me, new teachers, new faces, new kids around. Remember how Harry Potter couldn't figure out how to get to Platform 9 3/4? I was exactly like that, lost and confused, during the first week of my college. Slowly things changed, priorities changed, my friends circle changed, and all for good. There was not a single moment when I didn't tell my best friends over the phone that life was so much easier when we were in school. I was a spoiled brat back at school, all thanks to the pampering done. But then, these two years taught me so much more. Here friendships meant something more, freedom meant something more, and so did responsibilities. I started travelling alone, using the public transport, not depending on anyone, I kind of miss those days walking with my friends to the bus stop and eating orange candy ice-cream/pani puri whenever we were hungry. Though I never really liked that college, (except for the library) I somehow managed to survive every single day in there with a bunch of crazy people who were always there and still are, stuck with me, through thick and thin. For the first time I've learnt that jealousy turns your mates into back-stabbers. This place has taught me, of course the hard way, to stay original no matter what.
And now the best part of all is here, under-grad. Yet again, St. Francis College was my choice. There never was any doubt about it. I still can't believe how fast time flew away in these three years. Again Harry Potter reference, just like the Sorting Ceremony, choosing the discipline too was a bit tensing. I was going to take up a new course introduced at the college. It gave me those lab rat vibes. I first thought it could turn out to be a risky decision, but then something inside my head said, "jo bhi hoga, dekhlenge" Let the show begin. Sometimes it's hard to create an identity among two thousand odd students, but being at Francis was never about that rat race or beating the best to be the best at everything. The only race you get to see here is the race to get the hot noodles at the canteen. Something told me that an identity might not stay for long. Eventually you will be forgotten, so why even try hard to be that 'celebrity'. If Francis taught me something, well it did teach a lot, it is not your name that is going to stay forever, it's the kind of work you do and the way you do is what people are going to talk about for the years to come.
In my first year here, I was already a known name, albeit, it did take some time for me to make friends. Amma said the friendships you make at this point of life are the most important ones, they either build your character or break your heart. I say both are good lessons. The transition period of a senior becoming your family didn't take much longer. They were my mentors who showed me how not to give a damn for things that aren't worth my time. It is from them I learned how to stay calm when you have only 55% attendance. These were the ones who have been there for me when I was confused. In a place where trivial things like the dress we wear, or the accessories that we have happened to be the most important topics of discussion, they taught me how to be at peace by not judging anybody. Like a small kid I begged them not to leave when they were graduating. Even today, while I write this, the only thing that rings in my mind is what they said while leaving.
B: Time is going to fly by, you will have make the most out of it. Be busy.
S: పట్టించుకొకు, భావిత.
V: Work hard, make me proud.
N: If you need anything, just give me a call.
This is what family does to you, no matter what I was going through, I pick up the phone, dail up their number and peace is restored to the world.
The two years passed by with the seniors guiding me along the path I chose to travel. It was in the vacations of the second year I caught myself saying "Will I ever be a good senior?" I brushed off that thought and said "Final year, bring it on!" It was a whirlwind affair, the last year. Exams, co-curricular activities, student organization meetings, (COFEE, meri jaan!) exams again, then the annual fest, exams again, sigh, exams for one last time. I don't remember what happened in the past two years of under grad, but the final year will remain to be etched distintcly in my mind for as long as I'm going to live. Suddenly life took a U-turn, I was a senior, a grown up, nonetheless still a typical teenager who was always stuck in a dilemma. I wish somebody told me how is it like to grow up. And I'm no Agnes to have Gru tuck me in the bed and say "never grow old." But sometimes I'm glad for whatever has happened in the last year. One of my close friends said that experience is everything, don't refrain from trying out new things. And so I did, I worked hard, I failed, sometimes miserably, but still I went on, I don't know if I succeeded or not, but sure thing I've learnt how to not to fail again.
And when the time came for me to leave the place, my juniors pleaded me not to leave, this a very emotional cycle that tends to keep repeating itself. It seemed like I belonged to their batch and not with my own. There were tight hugs and wide smiles and yes, tears too. I'm going to miss every bit of my under grad, even the Scooty Pep and Zest. (someone is smiling reading this) Probably I can never stop writing this post and cannot hold back the tears. And for the .......th time (I forgot the number) I'm going to say that if I am what I am today, it is all because of St. Francis and the people I met here. Also, a special mention to those whom I met through the Francis kids, I just happen to know almost everyone now. One word to my juniors and those who want to be a part of the Francis family, it's not entirely about the place, what you make out of it at the end of the day counts. Please bunk classes and watch movies or go chill at 10D/Donut House/Chinmaya bandi/Hanuman chat bandi/even better, college canteen.
17 years.
It is all over.
You've been great, St. Francis.
So long, fare well.
You'll be missed.
Soumya Inavilli
Little did I know when I stepped inside the premises of St. Francis Girls High School 17 years back that this name is going to stay with me for, like an eternity or rather I would not leave it until long. My interviewer asked me to name the color of the frock I was wearing then, I answered to that without even thinking twice, "boo." Blue is the only color I knew when I was two and a half years old and luckily I was wearing a blue frock when the teachers wanted to see how well I know the colors. It all started there, the story of how my father stood in the queue for getting my application form at 3 a.m. is still quite a popular one in my family. Now if amma made me wear some orange colored clothes or if my father thought he'll sleep for some more time instead of taking that application, my life would have been something else and it wouldn't have been as good as this one.
That school has made me what I am today. It gave me my first failure, it gave me my first merit certificate. It pushed me onto the stage and made me speak in front of the crowd in the morning assemblies. (Yeah, stage fear, who cares?) That school's teachers were patient enough to deal with me and would simply write "she is very talkative!" in the remarks column of my progress card.They taught me to go for that extra mile and clapped when I won the competitions. They saw a script writer in me for the class dramatics and that's really how you get to read not so bad posts from me, I guess. They chose me for the high school quizzing club and since then the quizzer in me never stopped being curious. The times when I hurt myself playing in the gravel ground and scrapped my knees twice a week has never done me any harm, it only taught me how to stand up on my feet after falling down. Most importantly, this school made me meet a few people I worship even today and few people without whom I can't solve a complex differential equation. It gave me memories to cherish and stories to tell. The place might not have prepared me to fight a battle with the outside world, but it indeed has shown me ways to be a better human being.
After successfully graduating secondary school, I got kicked into St. Francis Junior College, which happens to be right next to my school in Secunderabad. Technically, I didn't have to miss my school but those two years of Intermediate had more in the store for me than I ever thought. I don't know what grudge the universe had against me, I was placed in Section F, no, I'm not talking about the expletive, I'm only saying that particular class changed my life, to an extent.It was a whole new experience for me, new teachers, new faces, new kids around. Remember how Harry Potter couldn't figure out how to get to Platform 9 3/4? I was exactly like that, lost and confused, during the first week of my college. Slowly things changed, priorities changed, my friends circle changed, and all for good. There was not a single moment when I didn't tell my best friends over the phone that life was so much easier when we were in school. I was a spoiled brat back at school, all thanks to the pampering done. But then, these two years taught me so much more. Here friendships meant something more, freedom meant something more, and so did responsibilities. I started travelling alone, using the public transport, not depending on anyone, I kind of miss those days walking with my friends to the bus stop and eating orange candy ice-cream/pani puri whenever we were hungry. Though I never really liked that college, (except for the library) I somehow managed to survive every single day in there with a bunch of crazy people who were always there and still are, stuck with me, through thick and thin. For the first time I've learnt that jealousy turns your mates into back-stabbers. This place has taught me, of course the hard way, to stay original no matter what.
And now the best part of all is here, under-grad. Yet again, St. Francis College was my choice. There never was any doubt about it. I still can't believe how fast time flew away in these three years. Again Harry Potter reference, just like the Sorting Ceremony, choosing the discipline too was a bit tensing. I was going to take up a new course introduced at the college. It gave me those lab rat vibes. I first thought it could turn out to be a risky decision, but then something inside my head said, "jo bhi hoga, dekhlenge" Let the show begin. Sometimes it's hard to create an identity among two thousand odd students, but being at Francis was never about that rat race or beating the best to be the best at everything. The only race you get to see here is the race to get the hot noodles at the canteen. Something told me that an identity might not stay for long. Eventually you will be forgotten, so why even try hard to be that 'celebrity'. If Francis taught me something, well it did teach a lot, it is not your name that is going to stay forever, it's the kind of work you do and the way you do is what people are going to talk about for the years to come.
In my first year here, I was already a known name, albeit, it did take some time for me to make friends. Amma said the friendships you make at this point of life are the most important ones, they either build your character or break your heart. I say both are good lessons. The transition period of a senior becoming your family didn't take much longer. They were my mentors who showed me how not to give a damn for things that aren't worth my time. It is from them I learned how to stay calm when you have only 55% attendance. These were the ones who have been there for me when I was confused. In a place where trivial things like the dress we wear, or the accessories that we have happened to be the most important topics of discussion, they taught me how to be at peace by not judging anybody. Like a small kid I begged them not to leave when they were graduating. Even today, while I write this, the only thing that rings in my mind is what they said while leaving.
B: Time is going to fly by, you will have make the most out of it. Be busy.
S: పట్టించుకొకు, భావిత.
V: Work hard, make me proud.
N: If you need anything, just give me a call.
This is what family does to you, no matter what I was going through, I pick up the phone, dail up their number and peace is restored to the world.
The two years passed by with the seniors guiding me along the path I chose to travel. It was in the vacations of the second year I caught myself saying "Will I ever be a good senior?" I brushed off that thought and said "Final year, bring it on!" It was a whirlwind affair, the last year. Exams, co-curricular activities, student organization meetings, (COFEE, meri jaan!) exams again, then the annual fest, exams again, sigh, exams for one last time. I don't remember what happened in the past two years of under grad, but the final year will remain to be etched distintcly in my mind for as long as I'm going to live. Suddenly life took a U-turn, I was a senior, a grown up, nonetheless still a typical teenager who was always stuck in a dilemma. I wish somebody told me how is it like to grow up. And I'm no Agnes to have Gru tuck me in the bed and say "never grow old." But sometimes I'm glad for whatever has happened in the last year. One of my close friends said that experience is everything, don't refrain from trying out new things. And so I did, I worked hard, I failed, sometimes miserably, but still I went on, I don't know if I succeeded or not, but sure thing I've learnt how to not to fail again.
And when the time came for me to leave the place, my juniors pleaded me not to leave, this a very emotional cycle that tends to keep repeating itself. It seemed like I belonged to their batch and not with my own. There were tight hugs and wide smiles and yes, tears too. I'm going to miss every bit of my under grad, even the Scooty Pep and Zest. (someone is smiling reading this) Probably I can never stop writing this post and cannot hold back the tears. And for the .......th time (I forgot the number) I'm going to say that if I am what I am today, it is all because of St. Francis and the people I met here. Also, a special mention to those whom I met through the Francis kids, I just happen to know almost everyone now. One word to my juniors and those who want to be a part of the Francis family, it's not entirely about the place, what you make out of it at the end of the day counts. Please bunk classes and watch movies or go chill at 10D/Donut House/Chinmaya bandi/Hanuman chat bandi/even better, college canteen.
17 years.
It is all over.
You've been great, St. Francis.
So long, fare well.
You'll be missed.
Soumya Inavilli
Comments
Post a Comment