The Days of Yore

The memory of what was...

When I think of St. Xavier's School, three separate incidents come to my mind.

The first was on the very first day I came to St. Xavier's School. It
was raining very heavily and I was desperately hoping that I would
miss the first day and might never have to go to school again
(childish eh? Well, it seemed convincing then ). But I did go
anyway. I was apprehensive (fine, fine I was downright terrified) in
an alien world- no one to call a friend and full of strange people,
when all of a sudden walked in Brother Ivan Fernandez with his ever
cheerful face and gaiety and said "Welcome to St. Xavier's !". And my
world changed forever.

The second incident was our final day in school. People were sobbing
miserably (yes, even boys of SXS cry) trying to comfort each other.
But then it seemed that all that we ever held precious in our lives,
everything to which we were attached to were going away. It felt like
what must be like dying. We did not want to go but we had to. Then
walked in Sir Uday Bhanu Roy (our beloved Jathababu) and in his calm
compassionate voice said, "this is an adieu, not a goodbye". And we
went out to fight the big bad world.

The third one was only a few days ago. I came back to St. Xavier's
after a very long gap. We were two old batch mates sitting in the old
gymnasium at 3 pm in the afternoon…no one in sight and only memory of
our old bustling gymnasium surrounding us. We sat silent, watching
those cricket ball marks that decorate the walls, trying to find the
ones we must have made sometimes. We were there for a long time and
when it was time to go my friend said, "The gymnasium will never have
more than three tube lights intact at any given time!"

So many years, so many people, so many incidents, so many triumphs and
so many frustrations that made us what we are today. Which one to tell
you, I wonder. The tokens of honour and tokens of conduct, the
punishments and the rebukes, the glory of sports day victories and
agony of messing the march pasts are all there in some special place
in our hearts. Some of our very dear people are no more. Many others
are now miles away without any connection. We miss being called chagol
by kaka, we miss Angana miss's speed and we miss Sandip sir's witty
humour. We wish we were still there…in those golden days.  And most of
all I miss my friends who have disappeared from our lives and only
linger on in our dreams. I wish I could relive those moments all over
again, just one more time…with all those special people there back
again in this very special place; just one more time.

Debotosh Poddar
Ex-Captain, Tagore House
2004-05 Batch