The Last Eleven Years

The C.J.M. Chronicles...

Sigh!
Sigh!
Sigh!
 Weird how this syllable can be uttered in despair and nostalgia too (sometimes, even when you eye a particularly striking guy, but that is besides the point). In this case, it is mainly of nostalgia. I won't say that I couldn't live without the time I tripped on a bag-strap and fell in front of the entire school or when a teacher considered me holding a short-put as a potential threat, but hey, we all have had to be embarrassed sometime or the other (more or less). All those incidents did teach us how to get up after every fall, pretend to be not hurt, and fall again the next second on some smart Alec's foot. We also learnt how to say “Give me those marks before I reduce you to a splattered watermelon” in ten different accents. And, of course, we most importantly learnt how we aren't “a sack of potatoes, nincompoops, a bunch of morons, lousy louts, pathetic dunderheads” and so on, my memory fails me any further. We learnt five ways to sneak past the princi.s office, twenty-five places perfect to bunk (though I, very honestly, used none), six ways to say “please” to the canteen-guy to give us free food and various tricks to hide whatever-it-may-be in wherever-it-may-be and the list is far from ending and steadily growing. We have much of our seniors legacy to be thankful to and I am sure that our juniors shall too, for we strive each day to squiggle out of situations we caused, however unintentionally. But you see, what happened in the process? We did, indirectly, boost our confidence, learn to speak out (I hear screams and guffaws of laughter as I write) and fill our heads with spider-webs (minus the spiders) and fluff, but then, at least the aren't empty anymore! But really, I might complain, I may curse, but had I the option to do it all over again, like in 1996, I would do it all over again.