School Life...Nothing like it

When I was very young and on the threshold of life I was sent to an institution called school. It is this place that has provided me with the fondest of memories and the happiest of times. Eleven eventful years of my life have been spent in this place. From a stuttering five year old, I was transformed into a confident sixteen year old. It was a wholesome experience void of nothing and brimming with the simple pleasures of life. With no worries in life I was ready to have fun and fun it was. There were many firsts and all of them were unique in their own way.


I remember one cold winter morning when I started crying just before leaving for school. On being asked why I was crying, I replied “the teacher had said ‘you should eat vitamin tablets tomorrow’ and I have not.”


The first scolding, the first punishment and the most memorable first slap. They all had their own significance. The sheer joy of getting an excellent or three stars, the dejection of scoring low and the fierce competition between classmates. I was never willing to show my copy to another boy for fear it would help him score higher marks than me. To top it all, the pleasure of creating something colorful in the arts class cannot be matched. I was furious with my mother for throwing away my precious creations when she finally did it. Each of them had a memory attached to it.


As I grew up the pleasures changed. I discovered the joys of friendship. I stumbled upon the thrill of sharing my life with others. Those were the days of heedless youth, mindless jokes and endless laughter. Bunking classes, skipping assignments and asking senseless questions from teachers became my daily routine. My first escapade from the school and the resulting lecture from the principal is etched in my memory forever. The first night out of home has its own special place in my memory box. Lectures came in one ear and went out the other.


I can remember my first speech. My legs wobbling with fright, I went up the stage, forgot most of my speech and still came back amid thunderous applause. The ecstatic feeling of having won my first declamation contest still resides within me. The first cricket match I played was a blissful nightmare. I got a golden duck and was hit for some twenty odd runs in the only over that I bowled. Still it’s this one match that I remember most vividly.


My first bicycle and the bruises I got trying to learn the art of cycling were the most friendly ones. The first time I drove a car and was involved in an accident, and the way mother covered up for me is still fresh in my memory. The first time I got pocket money and my bewilderment at how quickly money gets used up makes me smile up to this day. As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Studies became tough. Mistakes were deadly, punishments very strict. One became the captain of the cricket team rather than an unknown player. A win gets you a mere pat on the back while a loss earns you a half hour lecture. I never again experienced the mind boggling tension just before the result of the O-Levels was announced. In place of mother’s leniency you now have to dodge the strict code set by Father; all these have a charm of their own. Responsibilities were stacked as I grew up reducing the fun until it was over altogether.


Time flew by and I found myself a surgeon at a leading hospital in Lahore. I had a new car, a sprawling mansion and a hefty pay check but no time to wait for a moment and enjoy the simple pleasures of life. One day, after performing an emergency surgery at two in the morning, I came to the conclusion that school days were the best days of my life.


People say I am nostalgic and that I should enjoy life with all that I have got but I say that if remembering those delightful days is nostalgia then I am nostalgic and I like it that way. Money and power cannot bring back those pleasures which shall forever remain the core of my happiest memories.