“It’s just 9 days left”, rendered me speechless. There was a lot of commotion and stir around. While everyone was having their tiffin, and quarrelling and discussing about academics, sports, bodybuilding, getting admitted to good colleges, and how well a friend’s mother cooks, I was rendered speechless when Archit came in running and said, “it’s just 9 days left”. Suddenly, I felt like the audio jack has come out of the port and I could hear no discussion, no sound; it was only the visuals that were there; blurry visuals.

Out of nowhere, I saw a fading-in visual of a small kid with a bag, and a water bottle suspended around the neck walking toward me. The ambience changed so fast. I was stunned to see a kid in the hallway of class 12. I could hear,

“Our father,

Who art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy name…”.

And with it, I could hear, “As a deer panteth” and “O be careful little eyes”. Everything was combined together. But still, I could distinguish every line of every hymn from one another. I tried calling the kid, but I had lost the power of speech. My hands felt so heavy, my heart felt so heavy. I was immobilized. I could hear my breaths. The kid started running toward me and suddenly disappeared when the bell rang to notify that the break was over and it gave me a reality check. And, I was chilled to the bone when a thought arose. It is ending. It is ending. The journey which had started more than a decade ago, is coming to an end.

I feel an ache in my heart. I feel so helpless when I think about the near future. That we won’t ever be meeting again, to work together in a class, with a teacher. We won’t be taunting each other, and we won’t be in that hallowed hall ever again. We won’t be sharing tiffin, and we won’t be playing in the field; 40 people running after a single ball, and sometimes, a mutilated water bottle. We won’t be sitting in the music room chatting with the Mozart of CBS, procrastinating and contemplating about how to bunk the following period. We won’t ever be sitting in the office till 8-9 p.m. for Concord. We won’t be together.

I will always remember the values, the morals, the music classes, the verses from the bible, the hymns, those silly sketches, the priceless advices, the input, output and the processing devices, the BASIC programmings, the quarrels over economy rates and hat-tricks. I will always remember the school canteen where daily skirmishes used to take place. I will always be grateful to CBS for every single thing that I have been provided with. I will be grateful to CBS for every single minute. They have tolerated my tantrums and imparted quality education. What more does a student want? I have been taught by the greatest teachers ever, Mr. Guy Kenneth Dante, Mr. Stephen DeSouza, and Mr. Barry Antunis. I will never forget Mr. Antunis’ words, “Respect can’t be demanded, courtesy can be”. I will be grateful to the non teaching faculty. I will be grateful to Kishore kaku. 

Although “The” was introduced in the name some days ago, it never was The CBS to me. But now, after all this, it is. It is THE CALCUTTA BOYS’ SCHOOL now. How funny it is that I never cared about that one day when I will be walking out of the gates, leaving my heart and soul behind, only carrying the memories for life. I never thought emotions would ever hit me like this, and destroy me from within.

As I walk out of the gates, I feel like the walls, the benches, the desks, the chairs and the halls are calling me to them, to stay with them. I hear the walls crying. I hear the benches sobbing, and telling me about the names I had carved on them. But never mind. After all, it’s a part of life. The world will never know the poetry we have crafted together, the stories we have written together. We will be just another batch of class 12. 

Tomorrow onwards, I will wake up to the alarm, but not come to the school. I will study, but not in the school. I will have friends, but not the silly quarrels. I will lead a life, but not as colourful. Maybe I will be successful in life, or maybe, I will be just a shame to the royal family. Maybe we won’t ever meet outside this gate, or maybe we will, but we won’t even remember the faces we have spent the most colourful days of my life with. This is the only countdown that I am condemning. It is ending, people, it is ending.


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