Those Orange Stains!!

 Those Orange Stains.

                     I happened to visit my convent school, recently where I started with those small steps towards knowledge and empowerment. Not to mention, a gush of emotions clamped me. Giving a sweet peeve to my hair, I perched on the cemented chair painted green gazing at those ages old trees lined so perfectly providing natural shade , the unanimity of white and blue tunics and double braids flanked by respective house colour ribbons (well now ..need to say it’s an all girls school) never seemed so luscious. The band in-charge sister Laurel was very strict she divided the school into three houses blue, green and red.

                    I was a blue house girl and my loyalty to blue continues till now (check my wardrobe???). Sister Joan Mary was my glorified grade one teacher. She loved knocking (softly as per her standards) on our knuckles with a wooden ruler, as she was so particular about English cursive writings. The first one she coiled out in bold curves on the black-board was- ANIMALS (did she mean us?????).My words were like ants carrying sugar in different directions, so withered away they looked. Poor me used to stand last in the queue dreading the hurricane waiting to originate in minutes. And it occurred in the form a flying saucer (my copy in air). Well like all happy endings, today I thank her for that insult ,as my mom pushed me for hours of writing cursive(pluck out the I and V) and here, I write so beautifully.

                                         The break time for twenty minutes was heavenly and much awaited, for as it’s during those times along with the small bites we caught up on the favourite shows, the heart throbbing heroes, about that cheeky -snooty girl on the back seat, and many many…more, as we grew into teenagers. But my parents were thoroughly impressed by the school management, the teachers and, oh-so appreciated fact was the fines levied on speaking Hindi.U converse in English only. Today finally I say thanks to all my teachers for being patient enough and teaching us systematically which any day will do good for me. All efforts worth it, as it at least helps me adapt with those elite ladies clubs.

                            Here to mention with great importance is the funny looking haggard guy, who sells ice candy’s outside the school gate. The glitter of one rupee instantaneously made his emaciated bony hands pull up candies in various colours from his big box. I loved that orange ones. And there was none in school who wanted to miss this yummies.Somehow a despairing school administration and  parents group  didn’t like his loitering anywhere  near the school premises. Whatever they tried this man was sure to stand near the gate exactly waiting for his connoisseurs to arrive. In one of those encounters with the candy man ,my younger sis persuaded (sorry for the blame) me to buy a candy showing me that coin which she managed to fish out from our own piggy bank. In that excitement to taste those I forgot my ethics of being a sensible elder sister. We promptly bought one and enjoyed the coloured chilled juice oozing down the throat. If these are known as the small pleasures of life ……...

                            The way back home we discussed the candy with great pride to our friends. They with mouth wide opened and gulping air in between, gaped desperately.

                                      My mom, a very friendly person now, was a disciplinarian during those days.While helping us change there came that quizzical look from mother, and a sudden “you people tried those candies?” .NNNNNOOOOO-trying to manage that sheepish grin I   answered. She took us before the mirror asked us to pull our tongue outside …they were so orange in colour…and there, the orangish stains in the white shirt spoke for itself .The inglorious act and to top it the big lie made both of us shame-full.Whereas my mother, gave a smile and said which still echoes –never be scared of the truth, be it anything .

  Thereafter those blissful orange candies came only in my dreams.