Once in a city of lights and buzz,

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I returned home, exhausted from work,

Tired as I was, with the monotonous life that I led.

My eyes all of a sudden fell on a book which read,

“MY SCRAPBOOK OF SCHOOL DAYS”

All my memories of school life, which with time had now turned hazy,

And I tried to recollect the fun loving days so crazy.

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Those days of spirit and laughter with friends and mates,

Be it failure, be it success, we never fell short of a reason to celebrate.

The jokes that we shared, the pranks that we would play,

Juvenile we were, in the most jovial way.

The fights that we had, the quarrels that we made,

And after every two minutes of hatred, we would be friends again.

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Exam times in school meant that the corridors would be full of hustle and bustle,

And the facial expression of every student was the opposite of being calm and unruffled.

The notes that we revised, answers we muttered a lot,

Last moment studies were our regularly committed fault.

The study session with peers and helping without any give and take,

Though after every five minutes of studying, we need a two hours break.

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The bond with our teachers is very hard to explain,

Sometimes strict, sometimes soft, they were selfless giving us advice logical and sane.

The punishments that were given, scolding on and on they went,

Which came with the consciousness, that this was all for our own betterment.

The farewells that we gave them, the tears that we shed,

But they stood strong and an ideal example for us they set.

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A photo which showed our last school outing,

They were two unforgettable days of immense screaming and shouting.

Those awkward poses, those horns on each head,

Creating a ruckus and running away before we were all dead.

Those late night gossips with torches under the covers,

And scaring away everyone with the tales of a ghost that hovers.

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Those were the days filled with fun and frolic,

When we had all turned into anti-workaholics.

There was neither tension nor any workload,

Life was a merry ride, on which we all once rode.

Reminiscence of these days made me shed a tear,

Realizing the value of every mentor and peer.

Over the years, faces may be forgotten and memories may fade,

But attachments and bonds are our ‘heartstrings’, to remain connected, they all are made.

 -Anwesha Rath

 

 

 

 

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Poonam Gandhi

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