School...a short anecdote on how i got in!!!

The making of this short article was triggered off by a questionnaire wherein there was a question regarding which school I studied in and what I had to do to get in. This probably takes me back to my first few hours(pretty hilarious on looking back) which I spent in the institution…the same institution where I spent more that half my life in.(14 years to be precise)
My earliest recollection of me at school go way back to a bright, well furnished foyer where we were waiting to be summoned by the School’s Head Mistress. My father was all suited and booted, mother - decked up in her most gorgeous blue sari, jewelry and all; both looking nervous as hell. And there I was, sitting on the bench in between the two, wondering where the tips of my nails and the dirt behind them had disappeared. My mother had forcefully scrubbed and cleaned me up (much to my disgust) for the occasion.

I was 3 and a half summers old in bright red short pants, and an equally bright yellow T shirt which had 'ANGEL' printed on it in bold red capitals(which would have made Govinda, Armani, Donna Karen and God, all cringe in shame at the same time)…the thing is, my mother had sole rights to my wardrobe. She felt that the brighter the clothes got, the cuter a kid looked. Apparently I looked just like Dennis the Menace dressed up for church but then again, Bill Watterson hadn’t published his brainchild yet ! My hair was neatly slicked back with the help of coconut oil (a sight which was very rare to get a glimpse of in those days) and the base of my scalp could be spotted after the "summer cut" I had got on the previous day. I vividly remember nearly kicking the barber’s teeth out because he "poked me with the scissors" but I very clearly remember the spanking I got after coming home. I stood barely 2 feet off the ground in my brand new red "BATA" sneakers(another of my mothers investments for the occasion…Mrs. Karen, I wont be spotted dead in any of those anymore I assure you). All in all, I was one ball of energy and spunk, waiting to be unleashed into the Indian education system. I personally didn't think I needed the schooling because as I had pointed out to my mother the earlier day,(just before dislocating the barbers jaw) I knew my alphabets till S and numbers till 100(i.e. 1-2-3-5-7-6-8-9-10-100…where 100 was yelled out in the midst of peals of laughter and appreciation from admirers)…And like every self respecting mother, I was the apple and all the other fruits of her eye and was undoubtedly going to dethrone Einstein’s theories some day. But somehow she insisted that it was a good place and that I would have fun in it though I had pictures of jail floating in my head when the word was mentioned. I told her so.

Anyway, when it was finally my turn to be interviewed we were shown into a small room by a smartly dressed peon in khakis. I remember that the walls were painted pink and there was an old lady sitting at the only table in the corner. She had grey hair and very soft eyes. The rest of the furniture included 3 chairs, (of which, the small green one was obviously for me) and a filing cabinet by water cooler in the adjacent corner There were Stuffed toys and other play things all in a big brown carton on the other side of the room. Her name was Mrs. Warden (ironic considering the fact that at that point, I thought school was a place where children who misbehaved were sent…to do time) and after the initial pleasantries, she started asking me a lot of questions….too many for my little brain to process. She had been badgering me with questions like "what’s this shape called", "what’s that colour" and "what’s this animal called"...I answered all those question alright, but my 3 and a half year old brain couldn’t comprehend that fact that such an aged lady didn’t know all these things...

“SHES SO OLD…SHOULDN’T SHE BE KNOWING ALL THIS?” I asked my father quiet confused and rather loudly…all in English.(we speak English at home) Of course my father turned purple and cringed, my mother sank through the floor(after changing into a pretty shade of crimson) and Mrs. Warden burst out laughing. Little did I realize that it was probably that "innocent" wise crack which was the reason why I’m working for such a big company today. My School taught me everything I know today and I will dedicate any accolades that I encounter (hopeful here) to that institution.
That was the beginning, a very rare beginning indeed to my learning cycle and though things havn’t changed much(...my brain is still 3 and a half years old as Im as kiddish as they come), I will never forget those GOLDEN years at school. The Frank Anthony Public School….MY SOUL RESIDES THERE.