A Place Called School

and had i ever thought in my wildest dreams that i would write about my school.

my school. feels strange to talk about that place. and feels even stranger because its the last place on earth i want to be in, for a long, long time. not even a single day went by when i looked forward to going to school. but then, i went. i went to school and i saw faces, met people. i made friends, i lost friends. i was surrounded by a string of people whose thoughts were different from mine at most times. and at times it was really difficult to make them see what i saw.

most of the times, they did not see what i saw.

i fought with people and they fought with me. i argued with them, and they with me. i was accused,abused, labeled, looked down upon, misunderstood,pulled down, torn apart. i cried, i defied, i stood up against, i gave up, i gave in, i broke down.

i did all the things i could to make my school love me and love it in return. and after a point of time, i did all that i could to simply survive there. for every day seemed difficult to take on. and i could just take on one day at a time.

and i kept on building all that bitterness inside me. the bitterness that engulfed me after a while and i wast too blind to see anything else but the end and the thought of reaching it.

leaving school for the last time on a working day, i did not for once cry, unlike most people.

and that made me a little sad. not because they were crying, but because i wasnt. i felt empty. i felt grief. because i thought that even after spending four years in a school, which is a really long time for me, having never spent more than two years at one place, it was a little absurd that is should be walking out of the school with absolutely no sorrow in my heart.

it broke my heart to have not felt any of that sorrow that my other batch-mates were because i had always hoped that to leave school with tears in my eyes.

but i didnt, not exactly my idea of a perfect school leaving scenario.

and yet, here i am, talking about a place that i have not liked quite that much.

why, though ? if i had to ask myself the question, i probably would not like the answer quite that much.

i am talking about this place because somewhere, some part of it, i grew to like.

a part which made me happy. a part , which today, when walking down the aisle at st. paul's cathedral, made me smile in a proud manner. i part which where i saw people who believed me, and believed in me.

and i realize that for every person who disliked me, i had a person who loved me. for every person who looked away from me, i had a person who wanted to spend her lunch break with me. for every bad thing, there was a good one.

i had people who looked up to me and i had people for whom i was inspirational.

i had a madhurima in my life and i had a bushra and a priyadarshini in my life. people without whom i would have had to spend many a day in isolation.

i met people i was in awe of. i met people who made me look at life form a different view. and oh ! what a beautiful view that was.

it was a place where i was considered mean and rude and arrogant. but it was also a place where people i was wonderful, different from the others and a story all in myself. it was a place where i once i was denied participation in an event because someone did not like me quite that much, but it was also a place that gave a chance to compose my first song and play to an audience i n a public arena.

and i realized that the good things in life mean a lot more than the bad ones. that it is important to go on, no matter what.

and for all its worth, i dont think i would be the person i am today had all of that not happened to me. good and bad.

i am not sad that i am leaving school. but i am happy that i am able to leave this place without any hatred or bitterness for it.

because otherwise, what's the point of anything ?