Back to Boarding School...if only in thought!

One of my younger cousins, a splendid little fellow, has just gained admission to a very prestigious boarding school. He's remarkably excited about it, which is unsurprising if you consider the belief-defying number of sports he will be able to learn there! When I found out about it, however, excitement was only part of the emotions I felt, not all of which were entirely positive...if you read ahead, you'll find that this changed.

My thoughts and feelings arose from memories of three years of life in a boarding school. I was a student of the Assam Valley School from Classes 8 to 10. When I look back at those days, I find that the seven years that Time placed between me and that place, have not done much to blur the vividness of the recollections that dance before my mind's eye even as I type...

The anxiety of separation from my parents never really struck me until a few hours had elapsed following their dropping me off in the school. There I was...a soft, apprehensive fellow, mortified at the thought of having to bathe in a bathroom full of other chaps, all yelling and splashing, entirely unconcerned at the shock on the faces of the new students, all first-timers at a boarding school. The "communal bathing", as I refer to it, is still something I would rather have avoided...but nevertheless, I did learn to accept that my standards of hygiene (bordering dangerously on the finicky) would not necessarily be met by some people and that in turn did not imply anything about whether they were good or bad people (it just said a little about whether their bathing habits were good or bad!).

Then there was the question of the chaps just a year older to me and my classmates...the "seniors" (a few of them deserving the title only chronologically ), some of whom took an abundance of interest in lording it over the lesser mortals. Bullying was dealt with very severely in that school, so there was no question of ragging, whatsoever. However, power struggles did occasionally cause some friction, with the junior inevitably leaving the scene looking like a wet blanket. It would be most unfair, however, to generalise this to ALL seniors, because that was certainly not the case. In my first year in that school, my three room-mates were all a year senior, but were good, kind hearted and fun-loving people, who did a lot to make me feel comfortable and respected in the new environment.

I missed my family most desperately for the first three days, which were really the most taxing in terms of adjustment and within which I had formed lasting impressions of whom to befriend and whom to watch out for or altogether avoid! On the third day, in secret I released the tight control I had maintained over my tears and took comfort in a few moments of misery. Once I'd finished with that, I began to claim all possible power over my life and started a journey that left me deeply enriched for ever after.

There is nothing like boarding school to teach a person how to adapt to change and to other people. The boys and girls who studied with me were unlike any others that I had met before (in the sense, they were mostly Assamese and their accent and traditions were different) and still quite like regular children of that age (developmentally and emotionally). Slowly but steadily I allowed my boundaries to merge with their's and let down my defenses one cautious inch at a time. There was conflict, there was anger, humiliation and maladjustment in many phases, but there was also the satisfaction of forging friendships, of realising potentials that I had never before exploited. For example, I had never dreamed that I would be able to climb mountains in Arunachal Pradesh when on an expedition, or that I would act in leading roles in my Hostel's drama productions. I also made friends with whom I am priveleged to maintain affectionate relationships to this day and learnt innumerable valuable lessons from some amazing teachers, each of whom was distinguished in more fields than one.

In the Hostel, particularly, we shared our lives...our joys and sorrows. I witnessed a good many fights and sticky situations, but I also saw and learned how one takes responsibility for one's actions and establishes control over circumstances. It fostered an implicit respect for the school and what it was imparting to all its students. Moreover, the school with its green, wide open spaces was a remarkably beautiful place and one could not help but grow fond of it. I still remember how dramatic the night sky looked in the few moments of routine loadshedding that happened each day. I've never seen stars shine as brightly and in as much profusuion, as in those pollution-free skies. Literature often speaks of bejewelled heavens, leaving the rest to the imagination of the reader, but my school was where you could actually see them, night after night. Someday, I would like to go back for just that experience.

I'm sure my cousin will grow to love his school and will return home, every vacation, a more wholesome individual. At this point, I can actually feel the apprehension leave me, and I am certain that he too will find the trials and joys of boarding school to be an inalienable part of himself when someday, he looks back on the foundations of his character, as I did just a few moments ago...