REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST...

Sometimes the ills of our past will haunt us. There is no running away from it. The only way to face it is by accepting it and by making sure that it doesn't affect our future. But we cannot forget them. Because with them lies some of the most beautiful memories of our life.

This is why I write this. To recollect those memories and to reassure the fact that it will always live through me. This is the story of five boys who wound up 'alone' in a classroom to spend two years together and then took those memories home with them when they parted. There is a part of the story where they failed everyone who believed in them... where they broke promises... where they tried to hide from the world. But none of that matters anymore. Because that time is past. Well, let me tell my story.

Once there was this bunch of boys. They were abandoned... abandoned by their friends. But they could not run away. So, they stood. They knew they had a journey together. A journey to infinity and beyond- An Exodus. This is the story of those boys. This is our story.

It was a time when we were estranged by our friends. It was a time when we were in a snag. We stood staring at a foggy future, with a will to go on. Whatever threat frightened us, whatever comfort tempted us, all that time we were together. We were the beginning of an era.

2012 June 11. As we started our journey, Georgian Public School was mounted with joy of being a junior college. We, the five of us, were the first higher secondary batch of the school. Two of us learning biology science and three of us learning computer science.

We stepped together into our hazy classroom. There were no welcome songs, there were no sweets. But we enjoyed every moment we spent. The care of our Father, the guidance of our teachers and the love of our juniors kept us alive.

 It really was a very different situation than our past 12 years in the school. Classes were like private tuitions. There were 7 teachers for us 5 students. They were more than friends to us. They cared us like their own children. There was a giant shelf in the library just for us. Every guide published for higher secondary studies were in it. But only we didn't care about it.

Those were the best years of our lives. Just the five of us in a small world. The merry we made, the jokes we cracked, the fight we had. It felt like being in heaven. The only grief we had was that we didn't have a lady companion in our class.

When we were in the 10th standard, I was the one who opposed the idea of studying at this new junior college. I said: " If someone is going out of this school, I will be the first one ". But I couldn't go. God had a different plan. A better plan. And now I am glad about it because without his plan how could I have had these wonderful friends.

There are a few persons who would always stay in our memories. There was a man who through the help of his lord, made all this possible. He is the backbone of our school's current glory. Our dear - Fr. Jose Parasseril. He flagged us off in this journey. But before we could finish the race, he got transferred to another school. His love was always with us. And we will forever be indebted to him for everything he did for us.

There was another person who came after Fr. Jose. Someone who frightened us with his eyes whenever we met. But as more days passed the more he was becoming friendly. Our principal Rev. Dr. Binny Kurinjiparambil. He did great many things for us. Moreover he was worried about us. But we could not act up to his expectations.

And there are some people who are responsible for us. Not for the bad things, but for all the good things that happened to us during those years- Our teachers. Our Sudha teacher(Botany), Jancy teacher(Chemistry), Jayamol teacher(Computer Science), Mary teacher(Chemistry; left job after 1 year), Ranjini teacher(English; left for another job), Joel teacher(English; left job for marriage), Pournami teacher(Mathematics), Sruthi teacher(English), Vijayan sir(Physics) and our dearest Jooly Teacher(Zoology; she was also our mentor).

They will forever dwell in the brightest parts of our memories.

Our parents are and forever will be our greatest regret when we think of those days. They always wanted the best for us. They made sure we had everything to make our studies better. And while we sat at the exam hall, they were kneeling before their gods and pleading before them for us. They had big dreams. But we shattered them. We failed them. When the results came we were like 64%, 68%, 69%, 75% and 75%. Yes, we failed them all. But like I said, none of that matters anymore. That time is past.

We were the senior most batch in the school. We had great many dreams of doing several things in the campus. But we were restricted to our class alone. Our low marks complemented to this. Classes and extra classes made us mad. We lost our interest in studies. We were frustrated by the fact that we couldn't do anything. Adding to this was the arrival of our +1 juniors who were extremely well at studies. They were good. They were only 6 (2 boys & 4 girls), but they were good at everything. Teachers began talking to us like we were a miniscule part of the school and like they were the best. Like I said, they were good but their presence made our madness worse. We couldn't hate them because they were good to us. So, we hated studies instead. That was mad, right ?

The only thing that we could do was participating in a presentation item on the sports day. We conducted a welcome ceremony for our juniors on their first day and a Christmas celebration for the whole higher secondary department. Two scripts were written again and again for us to play at the annual cultural fiesta. But none of that materialized.

The most wonderful thing that happened to us was our manuscript magazine - ' The Exodus '. I never thought we could create something like that. It will be hard for anyone to believe that those manuscripts were for several weeks a cause for me to live. I woke up those mornings just to see these papers, to touch them and to play with them. Those were rare moments; moments which cannot be brought back. And in the end it was rewarded; by my friends atleast.

When we got the magazine after the final binding, I handed it over to my friends and I observed them while they examined it. I saw their eyes gleaming with satisfaction and their lips go smiling with heartfelt happiness. That was the point of it after all. It was made not for prizes, not for applause, but to gratify ourselves, to prove that we could do stuff and to be kept a souvenir.

When we stepped out of our school on 22 March 2014 wearing our uniforms for the last time, we didn't knew what to think. School life was no more. We felt like strangers there... like we didn't have any right to stay there. Only three of us were there. Our other two friends wrote their last exam(biology) on 20 March. Our Computer exam was the last one. We felt like they abandoned us. It was hard. I didn't want to go home but at the same time I didn't want to be at the school either. Reluctantly, I left. When I first came to the school fourteen years ago, blubbering, I never knew that I would have to go 'exactly like I came'. I thought about the message our Vicar Fr. George Pazhayapura wrote for us. I quote some of it here because that is exactly what we felt at that moment :

" കടന്നുപോയ പതിനാല് വർഷങ്ങൾ. പഠിച്ച കലാലയത്തോട് വിട പറഞ്ഞപ്പോൾ കണ്ടുമുട്ടിയ നൂറുനൂറു മുഖങ്ങൾ. ആത്മാർത്ഥതയും നിഷ്കളങ്കതയും മിന്നിപ്രകാശിക്കുന്ന മുഖങ്ങളും പൊയ്മുഖങ്ങളും. വാത്സല്യവും ഗൗരവവും നിറഞ്ഞു നില്കുന്ന ഗുരുഭൂതർ. താലോലിക്കാൻ ഒരുപിടി ഓർമ്മകൾ. ശിക്ഷണം നൽകിയപ്പോൾ ശിക്ഷയെന്നു തെറ്റിദ്ധരിച്ച അവസരങ്ങൾ. നന്മ ചെയ്യാൻ കിട്ടിയ അവസരങ്ങൾ നഷ്ടമാക്കിയതിന്റെ നീറ്റൽ. ദൈവം തന്ന കഴിവുകൾ പാഴാക്കിയതിലുള്ള കുറ്റബോധം... "

Now we are scattered like broken pieces of a single pot. We do not know anything of our future. But our hearts are and forever will be binded together. Whenever one of us needs help, we'll reach out for him, together.

Yes, togetherness was our strength. The naughty indolences of our Pakaran, the worthwhile waitings of our Anchor Mathai, the tensed perplexity of our Big Bro, the spiteful satires of The Great Ashlar Sabre, and the helplessness of a Chatti[Me]. This was the masala and it worked ofcourse.

The story is not complete. But as for now it's time to quit. Each of us have gone in search of their own 'fresh woods and new pastures'. There is a terrible pain in being apart. But like Shakespeare sang :

"... While I think on thee, dear friend,

All losses are restored, and sorrows end. "