We wore name tags, undeniably important if you’re meeting after 50 years, to save ourselves embarrassing questions like, “And who are you?” Some faces were easier to recognize while with others we begged to be pardoned citing failing eyesight. But we didn’t fail to recall many memories, all made spending time together, growing up (I’d like to believe) during our founding years, as the Golden Jubilee Batch of ’73, attending our school’s founders Day as special guests. And this bound us in ways that we individually discovered and collectively accepted while recounting our time there during our reunion in October this year.
Some of us trudged up slopes breathlessly, softly humming the school motto, “Never Give In,” to get ‘Up Seargent Tilly’s Hill,’ ecstatic at having made it with the help of a friend. We navigated steep steps like they were stairways to heaven, except the “Golden Staircase’ that we mounted with cheer because it was where photographers wanted us to record our visit for posterity. While we were in school, all these were surmountable and the least of our worries. We had marched up, what now appeared vertical, climbs in perfect step and unison (you’d get hell if you fell out of line or beat) in anticipation to imbibe our cocoa and ‘dog biscuits.’ Then we’d descend to Peace Stead for our PT, what then seemed the most onerous task but has, over the years, has become our must do. Years bring perspective and appreciation I thought!
Remembering our batchmates during a wonderfully orchestrated and well-organized special assembly who had left us saddened me. I sat in chapel recounting personal encounters with many of them and felt a deep sense of loss at their absence. Our batchmates eloquently tried to sum up our time in school, but how do you capture 7 years of one’s most formative years in 10 minutes. They did well.
Much has changed in school since we left. Our dining hall is the library, now a food for thought! Our music and needlework rooms ensconce teachers. There are computers now where we’d listen to Tom Jones. The dusted field where we played games, skinning our hearts and knees is now turfed! And, there’s an AI lab! Progress and keeping up with the times that are a’changing.
We shared our triumphs, our trepidations and of course, the rules we broke in school, (the Art Room has changed, but there’s still place to meet!) where we’d been since, what life had doled out and what we’d become. All of us agreed on one thing: We’d become better people, more self-assured, confident and certainly capable of looking after ourselves after we’d left the safe confines of school. Stories shared, while being there and beyond filled our hearts with warmth. Of course, there were side conversations of who did what and who shouldn’t have done that, but overall, we shared a bond that back-tracked our lives and all the fast forwards came in slow motion. What mattered most was our shared, growing-up years, experiencing, albeit differently yet collectively, time that molded and shaped us.
“For still the old school motto, time life’s long journey close, will guide us true till the game is through, and for time the whistle blows. It’s the way we have in Sanawar, the best school of all.”
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