Post Boards Blues

Class 10 was a pain. A year of endless studies. A year of innumerable failed attempts to solve mind-boggling mathematical problems. A year, which held five full term examinations for the students of my (ex)school. Out of the twelve calendar months there were five months of examinations, three months off, for preparations, two months of vacations and only two months of classes. Such a schedule could have sapped anyone dry but here I am, fit and fine, up and running, my boards all over and a whole new life ahead of me.

But as I plan to leave Siliguri, I look back upon the years I have spent in this town and the thorough enjoyment that I have had as a resident of this place. It was thirteen years back, in 1998, that I first came two this sleepy town at the foothills of the Himalayas and I have loved every moment I have spent here. School had become an integral part of my life and now as I think of leaving it in order to broaden my future prospects I feel nostalgic of all the moments I spent with my friends laughing about the incidents of the day before and ruminating over future possibilities of the humorous kind. The lunch breaks in which my friends and I used to play some sweet football will always stay embedded in my memory. The school field was amongst the largest in Siliguri. A sprawling belt of green with goal posts at regulated intervals was the centre of our footballing activities. The enormous size of the field can be depicted by the fact that it was large enough to accommodate four football fields, two cricket pitches with full boundaries and a volleyball court. The edges of the field were cemented as if meant to be sit upon and that is what we used to do sometimes when we were not sweating it our on the football field. This was our very own version of the classic Bengali adda. Topics of discussion would range from politics to Sunday’s cricket match, from exams to marks and from love, to life in general. These conversations on the most serious of topics were made jovial by the brilliant sense of humour that we possessed. At times we would be seen guffawing for extensive periods of time and when sanctioned by teachers we would include them in the revelry and ensure that no one left without a smile on their lips. Sitting on the first bench in classes and still continuously chattering to friends about love and life despite being literally under the nose of the teacher was always so much fun.

An injury to a friend would concern all of us and it would be amazing to see how the fellow who had only just cracked a joke at the injured guy would be the first to rush to the infirmary and inform the nurse of the pain his friends was in.

We were a tolerant and non-violent group of fun loving students. Most of our time was spent poking fun at each other but never would anyone mind such good spirited jokes made on him. None of it was taken seriously. It was all meant to be fun and what fun it was. None of us would fight anyone. Quarrels there would be and people would also hold grudges against each other (though for the silliest of reasons) but never would anyone of us participate in a physical fight. At times some of us would show tendencies to get involved in a fight but the group used to be there in order to calm him down and talk sense into him.

Now in Delhi, I am still trying to acclimatise myself to the place and its work culture, which I find way different from what people follow in Bengal. I have been meeting locals and trying to know them and their mindset better and I have found a diverse variety of people here in Delhi.

Here I see a truly cosmopolitan environment with people from all parts of India and all walks of life mixed and mingled amazingly but truly speaking, this is where the true beauty of Delhi lies.

I’ll miss Siliguri, no doubts about that. And I’ll miss my friends a lot more as they were the ones who made Siliguri really special for me. And as I leave the least I can say is that although I may reside in Delhi henceforth, but my heart shall always stay in Silla.

Robert Frost expresses my feelings better in his poem “Stopping by woods on a Snowy Evening”

“ The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep.”