Goodbye Dear shade of Shudder Blue!

But now that I’m leaving, we’re leaving; the not so proud members of the 10th grade batch of 2010-2011, we’re feeling unusually emotional. Cynicism aside, we’re actually feeling things. Nostalgia seems like a wise enchantress, casting the weirdest, most powerful spells of Reminiscence, smattered skilfully with sniffles and simpers. Taking high definition shots with virtual cameras, we’ve collected snapshots of recollection.

We’ll miss not just the times we created perfect pandemonium in class by throwing chalk around and shrieking wildly, but also the times we burned in the scorching [albeit temporary] shame of being shouted at, or even worse, lectured in public.

Almost falling asleep during afternoon assembly, only to erupt with joy at the mention of a holiday – an inconsequential enough event that somehow seems very far away now.....
Fiddling with the oh so fascinating stuff in the Science lab and not really accomplishing anything until the very last minute, is something I look upon with fondness, having been busted and blasted for doing so at least a hundred times.

As a sort of souvenir, I have a chemical stained test tube that I had broken [not entirely on purpose] earlier in the year.

Celebrating when the teacher didn’t turn up and playing games of tic tac toe and bingo or soaking in the feeling of doing absolutely nothing, eating in class and getting caught, locking people up in the smelly loo....stupid, insignificant things that now mean a lot to us.

Cheering madly during an inter school basketball match with staunch loyalty, irrespective of the way we would otherwise mercilessly dissect the faults of the school, is a somewhat funny memory tucked away in the crevices of time.

I think we even prayed voluntarily in the days running up to sports day for the victory of our house, despite disliking its much too bright colour. And every year, the tug of war match – a mud spattered, sweaty blur with the whole school watching, howling, sorry, cheering.

Teacher’s Day – when the whole of 10th put up a pantomime of sorts, and being so proud of our amazing handiwork, until we were reprimanded rather derisively for not involving the rest of the school....

And the excursion to Kerala.

How could we forget dancing all night long in ecstasies of liberty, and then puking embarrassingly into plastic bags the next day?

Or wondering how our teachers, forbidding and scowling, could be so much fun in a different state. Taking silly, random pictures of each other and the hotel, neglecting the stunningly verdant cloak that draped the surrounding countryside, or scaring away all the animals in the wildlife sanctuary with our loud voices and not caring a bit – trivial memories that now seem very, very special.

And those masses [Is that the plural of mass?] we attended! Even the holier- than- thou types were lulled to sleep by the sing song voice of the Father, droning on about sin and repentance and other unfathomable things....
Come to think of it, I think we’ll miss them.

The school fest...Talentia they called it. With every conceivable event, from Hairstyling to Fun with Numbers, we looked forward to it not because it was a breathtakingly brilliant display of talent, but because we were completely free from homework and classes for one whole week.

Nearly falling asleep while reading ‘As You Like It’, and then waking up with a joyful start at the end of the class.

Those lame, yet oddly endearing action songs early in the morning...

We have indistinct, yet close- to-our- heart memories of music classes in the ‘singing hall’ with Sir J and singing ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ every December. Children’s day, with the teachers putting up a program following the customary prayer service ,the sort of mini- fair afterwards , and then the ‘dancing session’, when even the nerds joined in. And of course, how could we forget being rebuked the very next day for revelling in the rhythm of those ‘shaitan’ songs?

And then getting caught by Sir D for our fluid stream of commentary!

Sister MT handing us our report cards with an ominous ‘If you don’t start working now, I’m not responsible.....’ warning, accompanied by a perfectly harmonized shake of the head.

And if you haven’t been called a ‘cartoon’ by Sister J, you haven’t lived!
We’re graduating today, the class of 2010-2011, in the most hideous outfits imaginable. Glow in the dark pink saris that glimmer with undisguised brazenness. Yuck.
Our eyebrows are still pink and sore from having been ‘overdone’ and the static hair on our arms stands with military erectness.

We’re holding candles and singing of hope and light, as darkness breathes down heavily upon us.

Beethoven’s haunting Moonlight Sonata comforts us as we, the Cluny loonies, bask for the last time in the eerie loveliness of our school at night.

We’re still trying to fathom the ephemeral nature of those beautifully imperfect memories; reminiscences that will fade eventually, that are already beginning to fade, as we say our good byes one last time. Then the solemn serenity of our final farewell overwhelms us, and the world is quiet.

Malvika Parthasarathy X B
Cluny Convent  
High School
Graduating Class of 2010-2011

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