I had my first and my last day of schooling in the same school, but many others have had the same. I now realise that to me, the school was one in a million, but to the school, I was just one among the million. While I always believed that school was a huge part of my life, I overlooked the fact that it was me who was a small part of its life. Just like we think about how our lives are dented by others while conveniently ignoring how we affect others’, even if small.

Having finished my twelfth grade recently, I decided to abandon all my school supplies to make space. I had been waiting for this day since the day my board exams began. I failed to anticipate the distress I was going to face while going through the memories. The clearance mission soon turned into a journey down the memory lane. The graffiti at the back of textbooks, the still incomplete notebooks, and the pictures of scientists who were given hats and moustaches by us made me miss school. Going through all my stuff, I began thinking about how the school was a massive part of my life.There were tiny chits in the pocket of my bag that kept us from getting bored during class, “Look at his hair.” said one, “Ugh. What time does this class get over!?” said the other. Just like the classes, we longed to be done with school once and for all. But now that it was over, all we wanted to do was go back.

My friends and I decided to pay a visit to the school, but we weren’t supposed to disclose that we missed it. Why? Because that would’ve made possible the thing we spent thirteen years denying- it would’ve proved our teachers correct. So we went to school to “collect our mark sheet.” The moment I stepped on the campus, I began regretting each time I bunked school. Everyone we encountered smiled and greeted us like we were home. On our way to the teacher’s lounge, I glanced into what used to be our classroom. A whole new batch of students sat in the same chairs we did and dozed off on the same tables we did. They wore the same uniform, they took the same bus, and the truth is, even they had the same nicknames for teachers. We thought we were irreplaceable, but we were wrong.

From my first drawing to my last textbook graffiti the school has witnessed it all. When I walked in on my first day with my handkerchief pinned to my shirt and my water bottle around my neck, I didn’t think that it would be so major. I remember how small my friends looked in front of the door frame and I see how they have to bend in order to get through now. Somewhere in the middle of making paper planes and making fun of each other, we grew up. As we drove away from the school, I saw it standing tall, not flinching. I was surely going to miss school but was it going to miss me? It is a sea, to it every droplet counts but the loss of one, or maybe thousand won’t make a difference. But we’re the droplets, and to us, the sea is our entire universe. It has a life longer than any of us and of which, we were privileged to be a part.

4 thoughts on “Pilot

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  1. Reblogged this on Tales of a Drama Queen and commented:
    Now this right here is a great start to a blog❣️
    The way the piece is written just makes it so personal😭❤
    It brings in all the memories I have had at my former school and how beautifully it talks about we being a small part of a bigger thing, the school which saw 100s of us pass and leave😭❤
    Do checkout this Blog..
    She’s great!
    And girl you keep writing❤

    Liked by 1 person

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