Life At Pauls

Of all what I could remember of Indore, I believe the finest  thing that ever happened to me till now was my school, St.Pauls. and when I say Pauls I am particularly referring to Junior Section adjacent to Sat Prachar Press. There could be nothing better ever came to me other than my life at Pauls. It was an unusual and remarkable yet eccentric moments I had lived at this place. Right from the central dome rain dance to ghost stories of washrooms, from feeding rabbits and ducks in the garden to chasing stray dogs in ground, from revenge driven cricket matches against rival groups  to gracious badminton plays after exams, from achieving top grades in class to obtaining exquisitely drawn “0” in Maths test , there’s a ocean of memories and recollections I could carve out of my heart about the place. What we held in our heart and souls was more than just  respect and compassion but the very law of school to which we all were governed-Brotherhood.

      I couldn’t remember any of my friends from other school so firmly gripped to their  roots and to their classmates as much as I was to my fellow mates. That was the power of brotherhood of Pauls. I could still recall each and every teacher that had ever taught me in school from every class. It’s like these faces have been engraved in my mind forever.

    That was the time when, winning a cricket match against rival class brought more joy than acquiring top grades. Time when,  each and every classmate overlooked their differences and stood united for a cause. Time when school appeared more like home. It was an unusual life with unusual people in a more unusual time.

    Being a boy’s school, one cannot accept it to be the  producer of most decent and generous kids. In fact I would call it an insult if ever someone referred to any Paulian as being a “gentlemen” creature. It was the wild wild west of east where every folk was a Sheriff within himself .

    Of all those memories I personally cherish  the most was when there was battle between neighbouring classes. I know it’s cruel, harsh and malicious of me to glorify violence but let me just make an honest confession to it. I admire every time when the whole class would march into the corridors to challenge the other class on petty and cheap issues of chalk-picking, duster-stealing, littering other class with garbage or to just unknown reasons. It was a mother of all UFC and WWE. A great superbowl in which everyone was expected to join to show their allegiance . Kicks landing on people’s asses, broken teeths, a precisely positioned Shoe mark on someone’s face , chalk dust powder in other’s hair , tattered collars and shirt pockets. A spectacular show.  Simply magnificent. Our very own colosseum with it’s nut-cracking and whipped-ass-clown-gladiators.

  One could never expect any more love and care and tenderness from any teacher outside Pauls. It was in fact a blessing to  be awarded with so remarkable and wonderful  teachers ever in my life. I can bet if there ever happened to be a “Moment of Truth” among Paulians many would confess of receiving more from the teachers other their actual parents. Not that their parents despised them but the fact that every Paulian was so famous for their notoriety and unsavoury reputation that the parents would get annoyed half of the time.

And despite all these flaws I still couldn’t stop myself from wondering what made the school so prominent among the city folks, that everyone else wanted  their kid into Pauls. Such was the obsession with Pauls, that had it been for parents they would have enrolled their kids into school as soon as they were delivered out of their mother’s womb. Quite literally. Not that we were gifted and talented in our own way, and I am not exaggerating on that note, that we actually were, there was a side of every Paulian that earned him prestige and dignity in the society. Not just to the kids but their parents as well.

    Class 5^th finished with high percents and it was time to say farewell with heavy hearts and tearful eyes to junior campus and say Hello to the High School. The pentagonal shaped campus appeared huge and stood tall in all it’s glory. Gone was the time of innocence  and playful fights. And the age of Ma******* , Bhen****, Chu****  and all prolific and fertile verbal skills entered . Abuses hurled from every corner of the premises.

“Abe Chu****, kaha pass kar raha hai. Ball ko kick karna nai aata.”

“Oo Bhen****. Aaj toh Maths ka test hai. G**** mar gayi.”

“Abe K****, ek hotdog mere liye bhi le aana. Akele khaya toh teri G*** phaad dunga.”

“Abe kya pakaa raha hai yaar yeh. Kab khatam hoga iska lecture.”

“Aaj toh yeh E-section waalo ki taange tod denge. Bhen**** kabhi fair game nai khelte.

                           Such was the creative brilliance and whiz kids  Paulians were at hurling abuses.

                           Firecrackers and bombs in school washrooms, hanging condoms on boards, wrapping teacher’s vehicle accelerator with condoms, sleeping in infirmary during maths lectures, making obscene sounds while praying for some deceased, giggling during two minutes silence, exchanging answer sheets during exam, watching our first porn on a classmates mobile, putting up a melodramatic show in front of teacher and begging to  assign passing marks, placing dead cockroaches and lizards in someone’s bag, putting glue on  classmates  bench and chalk fights in class. 

                           One specific incident that happened in 7^th grade still makes me fall down from my chair while recalling. We had to remove our shoes in class itself while going to the computer lab. And so it happened that wicked day as well. But as soon as everyone came back for Sanskrit lecture some heightened monkey bug stung all and everyone started hurling shoes over each other. Shoes flying all over , hitting someone right in the face, into the groin, shoes flying out of class, over the ceiling fans and everyone snatching each other shoes to throw. The whole damn class looked like goons set loose in mental asylum. And  then entered our teacher and from nowhere a shoe came flying in it’s glory and hit her with a “Phataak”. Those with more shoes in their hands, a chill ran down their spine. The others could do nothing but look at the teacher in shock and amusement standing still. This freak show was followed by a tight pampering on everyone’s cheeks as a retribution. I somehow escaped the beating, as many of those teachers considered me a shy and decent kid. I still give a evil smile to my friends when they recount the incidents like this  when they had to face the wrath of teacher while I escaped smoothly with a puppy’s expressions on my face. I can’t even keep a count of times when I did all such monkey business wearing a cloak of decency and innocence.

       Then there were other memories of school picnics, Pokemon cards, discussing Dragonball Z saga, video games , hot-dog at Lalit’s canteen, basketball in rain, football in muddy knee- high water, annual function,  jamming sessions at AV room with dilapidated instruments, the Sahodaya volleyball clusters and many more.

             High School was also a time of much more than just boring lectures, Hot dog at Lalit’s canteen and AV  room jams for me. It was also a time for many budding love stories and double the amount of heartbreaks. It’s a fact that no Paulian ever  was successful in the relationship thing. Atleast I never encountered any one till now. The most usual news updates we received was from Raphael’s, the girl’s school next to ours and our school parent branch. So Raphael’s wall was the place where the Shakespeare and Picasso of our school displayed their artistic flair and never there happened a Paulian who had never been on a recce around Raphael’s just to take a look at their crush, paddling on their cycles and then kissing the front of  some random Autorickshaw on the way like a dead fly on wind-screen after colliding.

My life at high school went smooth till 8^th standard. Due to various issues at home my academics gradually declined and issues which I had   with school management and a teacher. I managed to score decent 75% in my 10^th Boards exams but that wasn’t enough to keep me in the school for next year. Problems developing at  home were taking their toll on my nerves. My studies were  ruined completely, demolished to every inch in 11^th standard. And so to get away my mind from family disputes I began to bunk schools, hang out with wrong people, got into a fatal  relationship with a blonde-head and every thing bad that could ever had happened to me. It’s consequences- I was awarded a sweet supplementary in Maths and Chemistry. The final exam result came as a shocking contrast to me.

Obviously, there were others who had met the same fate as mine but that wasn’t going the end of their lives at Pauls. As for me, my doom was all written. My previous issues with school management plus my result gave an easy excuse to school to throw me out.

        Thrown out of the place, that you considered your second  home. Stuff like this is demoralising,shattering,dishearting and fatal . Infact  I couldn’t do well in the subsequent years as well because of this billion kilowatt jolt that hit me. For next 3 years I couldn’t see any reasonable growth or vital improvement in my academics. I ended up in a dingy Engineering College in Indore itself. But it was only till my 3^rd semester, when the university’ s result were out I spotted some significant growth with my studies. I did quite well as compared to previous two semesters.

But to this stage, it wasn’t all dark for me. Life made several revelations about people around me.Dark truths, lies, betrayals,  ambush and all. School mates, relatives…..friends. I promised to myself  that I won’t be regretting the things that went wrong , either because of me or what  the circumstances flinged to me . At the end , of course, I am grateful to those who stood by me when the things turned against me. And no matter how much I try to pay  I am in debt to them forever.

   All I carry now, are the blissful memories of my time at Pauls. I overcame the shock of being expelled. But never ever forget to be cautious before making my next move. In some way or the other , the school did gave me a lesson even in it’s last instant with me. And I could just never make myself hate it even if somehow I want to.