Urdhvobhava(Rise High), But Why?

I was 11, sad and confused yet everyone around me was very excited. I had gotten through a boarding school’s entrance exam and it was one of the most disciplined ones – most coveted with a promise of building a child’s future – with lessons in sports, theatre, culture and more. Udhvobhava (rise high) was it’s motto!

It is a separate thing that I now look back at the years spent there with so much love and longing that when I drive by, I end up straining my neck just by trying to peep into the campus through the lush green boundary – Sometimes I just breathe deeper so take in more air of the campus.

But then I was a little girl. I didn’t know how to care for my long hair, I didn’t know how to polish my own shoes, how to make my bed – hell I couldn’t even tell someone else’s stuff from mine.

And my family was all gun ho over my admission letter. There was a wedding in the family and throughout I was sulking thinking how would I ever live away from my folks. Today when I see those pictures I look like I was grieving.

Anyway, a long list of things to buy came from the school. Bedding, winter clothes and summer clothes, socks, shoes, toiletries and stationery all had to be bought. I was assigned a number – SG-535 which I was to mark on everything I took along with indelible ink or with embroidery. I later saw that was a military precedent.

So I went along – not that I had a choice. And my two little equally confused sisters with my parents came to drop me. They came, met a few of my teachers and we had a little picnic in one of the school parks where we all marvelled at the beauty of the campus, and then they left. I still remember that moment – crystal clear. I wore a pretty white frock (which I want ever allowed to wear again in school coz it was too fancy they said) and they left me in the academic block – me and mum weeping as she walked away. I never forget that visual – this was one of the most formative moments of my life.

So they go out of sight while I’m still staring in disbelief.

This moment has no sound in my memory – only vacuum.

And then these maids come and they hush us all together to fall in a line. It was evening snack time – sunlight was fading and it slowly became dark. We were all assigned a bed each in a large hall – although it wasn’t so hot even though it was April but we were all alone – 90 of us in the new batch – all alone with only a tube of yellow sticky Odomos to protect ourselves with.

I put myself to sleep weeping for almost a year I recall. I just didn’t believe I couldn’t go back when I wanted – I couldn’t call them – This was year 1991 – even phone calls were allowed in emergencies – and I never had any- never fell gravely ill, never got any fracture – wasn’t even reprimanded for my behaviour. I looked forward to Thursdays. We used to have a letter writing period every Thursday – where I wrote my heart out to my parents – I wrote on all creases and all fold margins – even outside the inland letter – I asked them to come back and take me from here because I was not happy – because I was missing my family. I wrote and cried and wrote and cried.

And then we had to submit these letters. My class teacher gave me my letter back the next day with a new empty one – “Write again”, she said. “You don’t want your parents to feel sad do you? Write again and write a happy letter! Gather Yourself”, she said.

Every month second Sunday used to be Parents’ Day and I kept pestering my dad to take me back anyhow. I just needed to be back home. He kept postponing – giving me a date in future when they would take me back – he meant well I know. Only if I could truly prove to him how this would not make me stronger or better or happier in future – I’m sure he would have taken me back – not just for seasonal holidays – but forever to be with them – grow with them – make my memories with my sisters and not with strangers who later became friends. I’m sure he would have understood. But how could he? He lived a childhood where he wanted to study and run and play but was made to do household chores instead – he wanted better for me and he knew this was the best thing – and that is the only reason I know why although even he wanted to but never let his emotions take over.

Papa, I don’t know what was better for me, I just know what I wanted and I so wanted to be back with you all – eating all my breakfasts and my dinners with you all – where mom packed my lunch too and where I took a school bus and where I fought with my sisters and where I knew what went on in all your lives and you knew about mine and how I was kept in isolation for a week as a punishment and where I was ragged by my seniors who made me wash their clothes and where I was made to go bald because I couldn’t care for my long hair – where just as part of training there were physical drills of crawling and rolling on hard surfaces. Where we never get hot water to bathe in winters and where our clean clothes would be stolen and where you had to either use a cheap pen or protect your ink pen and pot with life. Where I wasn’t special anymore.

Where mosquitoes had more freedom than we did – where we would report for games even if there wasn’t electricity all night. Where we were given haircut without mirrors.

I know what I wanted and if I get a chance to live it again – I swear I would still pick being with you all over a boarding school.

Even though I have made the best of friends there, I have travelled the best of Himalayas there, I have run cross countries and I have represented my school in hockey and swimming and in debates. Even though I have learnt to write poetry and plays, have learnt dances both folk and classical, learnt english tenses and read the best of books, have got all the boys’ attention, known what teachers are – known the value of food – known you can miss your friends also in 1 month breaks, known the pain of sore muscles and the joy of getting chilled kheer and learnt to use forks and knives and broke a few hearts and mended some other few, been a part of revolts and strike and yet –

I know what I wanted and if I get a chance to live it again – I swear I would still pick being with you all over a boarding school.