I must have been fourteen and I was
unfortunately destined to study in a boys-only school, throughout my childhood.
In those days, St Xavier’s Boys High school, apart from being one of the well
known and most popular schools in town, was also equally infamous for being in close
proximity to our rivals - The Lourdes Convent Girls High School. The latter
which was run by fair Catholic Nuns (mostly from abroad) had a reputation of admitting
selective, cheeky and dashy feminine mini-prototypes. The Jesuit Fathers who managed our school
always reserved a sorry feeling for the poor girls. “Indecent bunch of girls
who would spoil the next generation” was what they would indirectly term the young
girls clad in short, but cute, blue skirts that were deliberately tailored to mandatorily
reveal those adorable pair of knees. And for those Catholic Nuns, we boys had a
permanent watermark inscribed on our foreheads which read “Uneducated bunch of idiots
who have no future”. In spite of this, and many other controversies, any
competition between these so called mighty institutes, was always welcome and
victory and defeat both were accepted in a positive sense and true spirit of
game. Well in the event of any contest, any act of physical drill-thrill was
for sure to be won by the boys while the girls always outshone when it was even
remotely related to the brain and art! There was always an evident ego-clash in
between these two schools, but at all levels, we would make sure that compete
healthily. There was never a lack of discipline, thanks to the inflated ego, and
it was sheer hard work and commitment that brought victory to whoever won.
Now, well I saw her for the first time during a Independence Day march-past drill. As part of a marching competition, nearby schools
gathered and would show off their infantry-like skills. The audience was
typically students from the other schools, and their parents and teachers, who were
invited specially for the event at the magnanimous PPG (Police Parade Ground) that
adorned the sides of the Athwalines Main Road (also knows commonly as National
Highway 6). Well, I used to live in a town that was made quite famous by
clothes, diamonds and rats. But after the “Rat” event, it successfully emerged
as one of the most beautiful cities of the country and PPG was definitely one
of the good places to be noticed. Coming back to the march-past, there was always
a prize for the best march! More than the prize, what mattered most was the moment
of pride that escalated sky high on winning anything against our rivals. Our
boys had been ceaselessly winning the series of events since the launch of the yearly
marching competition half a decade back. And coincidentally the rival girls
always managed to steal the second position. In a perpetual effort to puff up
their noses with pride, the holy Fathers always ensured that the Lourdes girls and
the Xavier Boys always marched side by side in the final rounds. It becomes an easy
decision for the judge, you see. Although the girls would march with rhythm it
was quite obvious that the boys would never let their drill master down. I mean
how could they? After all those rigorous hours of repeated practice for over a
month and not to forget those cane floggings that seemed to adorn our backs, we
were sure that we wouldn't make a false move, even remotely! Well, there were a
group of 20 students from each school and one leader among them. And that
year, I should say my height and my affinity towards the NCC camps, contributed
a lot in making me the boys’ scout leader. So with my fellows behind me, I had to
lead the team, with the school flag in my proud hands. Before our final round
of parade started I looked at my supporting school mates who were clearly spread
across the ground. And then I happened to look at my right side to see our
enemy leader - the soul whom I ought to be competing with! And boy there she
was – an angel dressed in pure white. Not as though we were not in white, but
it felt as if her attire was bathed with double the specified amount of “Aaya
naya Ujaala, Chaar bundo waala” [A typical whitener advertisement that was
quite common in those days]. Dressed to kill!
Perfectly like they say! Perhaps noticing from the corner of her eyes,
that I was noticing her, with a genuine grace she too turned her charming face to
look at her rival. Oh boy that was supposed to be me!!! The eye contact lasted
for less than a second but I was frozen and boy was I knocked off? Yeah I sure
was! I then forcibly looked beyond at the audience and I saw the stern grim faces
of the harsh Reverends and I was determined not to compromise the school’s
objectives. With the start of Ready Steady…Go!!! [They might have said “Ready
Steady Wall” if it were to happen today. It seems I have been watching a hell
lot of POGO channel these days, which unfortunately was non-existent then] and
we (the leaders) were marching side by side, at a distance of course, on the brushed
jaded red carpet along with the band and music with young scouts following
behind in perfect gesture.
Now as we crossed the chief guest,
we - that is only the scout leaders, were supposed to look towards him and bend
our respective flags sideways as a mark of honor, as they generally do, and give
a gaze to the audience without moving your heads. The stare would have to be
the typical military look-kinda stuff and it generally spelled out the
commitment and confidence. And heck, why did the chief guest have to be on our Right?
Although I tried my best to avoid looking at this beautiful vault in between my
team and the audience, my eyes seemed to automatically relocate and lock-focus
on our rival leader! Within exactly ten seconds, that is the time by when we
would have passed the seated chief guest, we had to straighten our flag and
look affront again. But boy, I had fallen in instant love. Like they say, when
you are in love, each second seems like an era, and it sure did. And now,
completely lost, I was looking at the perfection of those beautiful pair of
eyes and the perfect eyebrows and the dimpled chin and the cheeks that were seemingly
shouting out aloud “Kiss me, Kiss me” Was I looking at an angel? But wait a
minute, “Wasn't she supposed to be looking right towards the chief guest? Why
is she looking straight ahead” Suddenly I got a rude kick on the back of my
shin from the guy behind me, and it brought be back to the real world. For a
split of a second I was mad at this crazy guy coz I somehow thought he had
spoiled the entire rhythm of the march with a seemingly wrong step. But ouch!
Reality Bites! I just understood why she was not looking right, and why I got
the kick in the first place. By now, I was a good one minute late in turning my
head straight (and of course straightening the flag.) The march ended soon and as
fate would have it, we lost the very first prize for the very first time to
whom else, but the rival girls! I
couldn't justify the reason for the one minute delay to a bunch of idiots who
would not understand what that feeling felt like for the entire minute. Back in
school, I was invited on stage and given the royal treatment for my stupid act
and for embarrassing the school’s reputation so drastically. But even while I was
feeling the wriggling pain, back in my mind, I knew that those “Sixty seconds” were a thousand times worth
the punishment. And the first prize was my first and last gift, especially and
carefully wrapped with love (the first-sight types), to a beautiful person, who
I never even knew.
Well, what happened next is quite
opposite to what could have happened in a typical Karan-Johar film. I never ever
got to know her name and we never ever happened to cross our paths. I remember
cursing my serendipity a real lot those days, for around a year. In fact I even
waited patiently a couple of times for long stints outside the Lourdes Convent
School, under the pretext of buying something that would never be available in
the nearby shops, in anticipation to see one more accidental glimpse of that
pretty face. But I never succeeded and eventually I had to close this chapter
forever. Well at that time, I never realized what that strange feeling was, but
later at some point of time in my life, I got to know that she would probably
have been my first crush or love or infatuation… Whatever!!!
Today, as yet another Independence Day passed by, and as I look back almost fifteen years back into the pages of
my life, I could still see how she looked like! The lingering memories almost
incidentally reproduce the freshness, as if it were all happening just now!
