School & the wee hours of my life

This story is about the wee hours of my life. When innocence, drama, an unending pathless exploration, falsity, candid surreptitiousness, domestication, condescension, hatred, bigotry, search for merriment, relationships, falls and vices played the role of shaping me.
The earliest of my school memories goes back to nursery. My neighbor and I used to go to school together, I don’t know her very well today – but back then, she was a talkative and playful person. Indeed, her implied presence of always being around was the first of my settling into the belief of having a friend. And I liked confiding in her, with having an attachment that didn’t always need her presence. It was a beautifully natural relationship, I shared with her and her parents. I miss all of them – deeply. Gradually as I grew up, my conservative grandparents didn’t like the idea of me playing with a girl – all the time, (And my parents didn’t have the pluck to say anything, as they themselves were being ruined by my bigoted grandmother). Grandma explained to when I was 5 that girls are not be played with or taken seriously. She used bad words against girls, back then itself. And my domesticated parents didn’t do anything to teach me that she was not right. She chided me, hit me, gave me looks and did all kinds of ghastly acts to ordain me to stay away from my first friend in life. The last I recall – being close, is playing with her at the local playground. She left school at one time – unfortunately I don’t even remember the year. And that was when my already ruined relationship with her ended – I could never get close to her again, for no mistake of mines.
There was this noticeably calm girl in the class – Aditi. She was so peaceful that once she poked a pencil in her eye and didn’t cry out even once, raucously. I always wondered – How she was – what she was!?  
I know, I have ‘sort of’ a sad story when it comes to these wee hours – but it was terrible and I somehow I just passed my time. Nevertheless, I’ll keep adding the humorous parts that I can remember. 
Till 5’th standard – I had a few friends, can’t recall accurately but they were there. One story that has stuck in my head from when I was in the 3rd standard – There was this Bong – a teachers daughter, who once asked me during the final exams – Do you write straight or do you keep your paper turned? Probably she was just trying to have a conversation and I ended it right there, by a pathetic & solemn response, in the most stupefied of expressions. Here’s how it went – I looked at her – my eyes a bit wide, the most confused look, on being talked to by this beautiful Bengali and I said ‘I don’t know’ (Period) and I started fiddling with my pencil, impatiently looking elsewhere, wondering what to do, my heart is pounding and I am just fiddling. So there was like a two minute silence and wow, what an amazing girl she was, she said ‘Well, I always write by turning my pad and I am left handed – so we won’t have any issues during the paper – she turned her writing pad and showed me that too. And I was still perplexed as to what was going on – so I just mumbled something and that was the end of it. And even after that – She smiled at me and said ‘Luck’. She would have felt pretty odd about the gauche that was sitting beside her. And I frankly, didn’t know the meaning of a conversation for many more years to come. After that, I continued my broad eyed looks at her, whenever she crossed in the break time, walking and giggling with her friends – who didn’t shy to be as charming as her. Probably that was my first crush. The others to come for a long time – were far from being naturally induced. They were more of a general fad that every other guy had. 

I lost the meaning of having a crush at one age and it all became into abhorring that sex . Because I just didn’t know anything else – my petty ungrateful grandmother kept giving me her preachings, day and night, on how and why to abhor girls. It is a mentally unsettling to do a child – and I simply hate her and will always hate her for being such a prick. 
And then on 27th December 2004 – I met with an accident, fell from the 2nd floor balcony in our house – while I was playing with my siblings. This is the exact time – that my life took a turn into some deep abyss from which I have quite frankly recovered of just last year – somewhere in the end of 2016 – more or less, completely.
It was a bad time for ever family member – and I didn’t really care about the hospital or treatment that was going on after I had gotten up into realizing what had happened. Everyone was caring too much, my face was black because of the excessive blood that had gotten accumulated. And I was having dal rice without any spices. The thing that bothered me was that not a single person of my age was there to meet me. I remember fairly – when I had gotten up from my sleep that night – my aunt or my mom saying that all the kids had gathered and Varsha was crying like hell when they were taking me. Varsha, Apoorva and 2 other kids in the society we were a gang – every afternoon we played on our bicycles, then some other game, and the frolicking continued till evening 8. But when I went back from the hospital – none of them would talk much to me. I don’t know why. Maybe becuase I never went down to play that many times. I don’t remember seeing Varsha ever again – indeed her image that remains is only one of having curly hair and a fair, fresh & beautiful face. Her beauty is like the serenity of the icy mountains. And I missed her for a long time – then eventually she just faded from my memory and remains to be a beautiful ghost today. 
My school teachers – Miss Sirohi, Miss Singh, Miss Prasad, Miss Bhanot, Miss Latika and many others who I will be grateful to (whom I don’t recall by their names) were very helpful when I rejoined school.

I remember having fun with one unique, humorous girl in the 5th standard – God knows what fun we did have, but she was unique in many ways. Her name was Saleena. She looked like she came from Iceland, could crack a joke anytime, anywhere on anything and didn’t care about the lectures – a dime. Or maybe she was just bored of attending school. She had that immensity of gaeity and elegance in her, and one could notice her standing apart from the rest. One of the most unique person, I came across. Don’t remeber exactly why we stopped interacting – but when we went on to the next class – we no longer talked. Maybe becuase I had started getting more depressed and was rather intimitated by her, and that just didn’t give me the courage to go and talk to her. Amazing person. I guess this was in the 5th standard. 

When I joined the 6th standard – I was scared out of my guts to go to school. The depression that had started in the 5th standard post the fall, had turned into a hideous thing. I was furious and angry when at home, and a timid cat outside. I was breaking off from everyone – there wasn’t a real conversation I was having now – nor in the house nor outside. I did not barely understand these emotions and my parents didn’t know that it was high time and I needed a psychologist. 

6th to 9th standard – The worst of my childhood.                                              Janmesh, Anubhav and Aditi are the ones I remember talking to in this class. Apart from that there wasn’t anything happening. Anubhav taught me a lot of boy hood stuff, Janmesh – I could never understand whether he talked to me for formality or naturally. I felt this, probably becuase of the low self esteem I had gotten into, this particular year. Both Anubhav and Janmesh – invited me for their birthdays, and I had gotten a straight NO from my house. Nevertheless, Janmesh is my first impression of what a chilled out guy is. Aditi – It took me time, a lot of time to understand her. She was at a different level of thought altogether – She once told me and Anubhav that she plays with birds for recreation. And I was literally shunned, though I hid that sentiment. And years went by, for me to understand her recreation. Today, I don’t know her at all – but she’s more like a bird to me. Free, unhindered, calm and keen. 

At home – Ours and uncles family were splitting up. We had sold the house, from where I had fallen, and 10 of us were living in a congested rented apartment. I was never this depressed – more so becuase everyone in the house was so busy in sth or the other that I didn’t have anyone to confide in. And all my friends from the last society, we lived in – Varsha, Apporva, Ojas, one cricketer and a few more were all gone, swept out of my life. That is the most hopeless feeling – especially at the age of 12. 

We were living in a society of Jains & Gujaratis. I hated each one of those kids, they spoke foul language and didn’t want us to play with them. I remember – dad had got a cello pointec black gel pen, and I dropped it in school, so the refill got spoilt – He hit me hard that night, and that just broke my belief and trust in him. Though he is a different man today, doesn’t get angry – but that is something I can never forget. The sentiment of not having the trust in my parents, there not being anyone to confide in, combined with the pathetic social life at school, made me turn to these vices – Comparing with others, undermining them secretly, watching porn to get a release, sexualizing, hating almost everyone around, ridiculing what and who is right, criticizing authorities and etc. It is basically an endemic mental disease – when such a time comes, it spirals and whirlwinds one into a vicious cycle. Once you start hating people on the inside – for just no real reason, it becomes more and more difficult to have a relationship. 

I knew inertly that things were going bad, despicable and worse day by day. But to come out if it was not just a distant dream – but an image I could entirely not interpret or imagine. For the next 3 years, my grades went down and down. Maths and sciences had become weaker than expected and there was no way out of it. All that I saw, was inaccurate, flimsy and wrong. This made me more angry at home and with those who were close to me. I spoke furiously with my siblings and mom, spoke such words that made them cry most of the times. Don’t understand why they were still reluctant to take me to a psychological doctor. This, what I was going through was becoming chronic – day by day. And no one could see that I needed help.


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