Revisit - School

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The gateman straightaway knows me, perhaps

an inspired guess, or plain logic.

A long-time adult, as clock hands clap,

comes to look at an old school building -

who else but a former student? Longing

to touch once again those exposed bricks.

A road that was travelled day after day,

its twists and turns now made strange

by years of separation; staying away

has meant the asking of odd questions.

The poignant stop to ask directions,

face and eyes burn at the first sting of change.

School’s out now, shut for the winter break;

the classrooms and the long corridors

stand empty and dumb, somewhat bleak

without children’s voices raised or hushed;

blackboards wiped, not even chalk dust’s

faint perfume floats on the floors.

Bleakness has come in different forms -

fields squeezed into classrooms blocks,

bars on windows once left free.  Tighter norms.

But the old, benign drinking station?

That’s still smiling at its position,

the spot for much merry laughter and talk.

Stern iron gates stand with their arms crossed,

stop me at the stairs. The breeze whispers once.

They’re out of bounds now, some freedoms lost

to surge down in a mass at the last bell.

The school’s broken up into floors, stairwells,

order’s replaced happy exuberance.

I turn away from the stairs, leave the school

without walking up to my last classroom.

Wistfulness rarely works; as an obvious rule

past memories and the present don’t match.

Futile then to attempt to snatch

peace from change and closed volumes.

And yet being able to once touch those bricks,

to walk corridors that had once known

my faltering steps and childish tricks,

dribbles a stream of peace into the day;

something lifts, perhaps wrapped dismay

after years of constantly being worn.





For school friends who are meeting up in Delhi under those exact exposed brick arches.  Wishing you all a great reunion, happy holidays and a wonderful 2016!