Holding papa’s hand as tightly as I could, I entered the gates and instantly fell in love with the huge gulmohar tree in the garden, the basketball courts, the creamy sunlight washed walls and the pristine church that stood tall and beautiful. Then I saw all the children, lined up for assembly. Was I late? Papa told me to go stand in the line and I thought my feet were stuck to the ground they shivered on. He nudged me gently to go ahead. I looked at all the other kids, laughing, fighting, talking or just standing, would they like me? What if I made no friends? I looked back at papa, trying very hard not to let the tears spill that blurred everything. He smiled and said, “You’re a big girl, aren’t you? Do you wan’t to be late on your first day?” I looked down at my shiny black ballerina shoes and shook my head the tiniest bit and trudged along to where everyone stood. Then, halfway through I realized, I didn’t know which line to stand in! I turned to see whether papa was still standing there, and the relief that washed over me was too much to handle. I burst out crying, as loudly as I could. At once papa was there to hold me and comfort me as I tried to control my sobs and not drench his shirt. He held my hand, asked a girl where I was supposed to stand, she led us there and papa hunched on his knees and asked me if I would be fine and not cry? As much as I wanted to howl my lungs out, I agreed and gave him a watery smile. He kissed me and went back to stand near the small gate, as I learnt to call it later on, and waited as the assembly began.
We said prayers that I had never heard of and sang hymns which everyone knew except for me. Throughout the service I kept opening my eyes to check if papa was still standing there and much to my relief he was. Finally the service ended, for the first time I learned how to cross, and soon we began filing out for class. As I entered the building which looked so calm yet vibrant I saw papa, he smiled, waved at me and left, I held back the silly tears that just wouldn’t stay in and entered my classroom. Class II Section I. The classroom was a different world in itself, softboards with colourful charts and posters, cute wall hangings and flowers on the teacher’s desk, tiny little wooden tables and matching chairs arranged in random clusters for the students. I chose the one at the furthest corner, near the teacher’s desk and the near a green bookshelf. Story books? In a classroom? Soon the class teacher entered, she introduced herself as Mrs. Fernandez, and then introduced me to the rest of the class. I fidgeted a little at all the sudden attention and then quietly sat in my place. Another girl entered with her mom, she was a little late. She had no place to sit, I offered her to share my desk and I made my first friend in Loreto House. After that, the day just flew by. At two O’ clock when papa came, I ran to him and hugged him and told him how wonderful my teacher was, how many friends I’d made, how I’d found a book about a ballerina in the bookshelf in my class and how I wanted to be one too when I grew up.
It was that green bookshelf that introduced me to the wonders of reading, the classes in the small hall that made me realize that I could dance, the piano that accompanied my most disastrous attempts at singing, the stage in the big hall that made me want to be on it, my little desk where I learnt how to unpack my world for the day, the canteen where we yelled for that one plate of chow, the basketball courts which witnessed everything from my futile attempts at basketball to my beloved dance practice, from lock and key to the dreaded Day 4 marching sessions, the corridors where we’d stand and talk about crushes and homework, or where we’d sit in groups and make charts, projects or masterpieces in art and craft, the zero periods and the celebrations, the house meetings and the zillion events, the teachers who taught me almost everything I know today and who gave us the best ever Children’s day celebrations. Loreto House went from being the scary new school to my entire world. Although I’ve moved on and miss it like crazy, it was the place with which I fell in love with as soon as I laid my eyes on that gorgeous Gulmohar tree in the garden, and it is the place which will always be home.
:)
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