Out on the Grounds

Who didn't love to be out on the grounds! But only if it wasn't for the tiring and often boring assemblies, in the morning and after recess, every single day. The break time was the precious 20 minutes we had to ourselves, to pour out from our classrooms, towards a spot near the concrete stage, to gobble up the tiffin box contents, and to employ the remaining minutes to whatever form of physical entertainment we found fit (depending on  the weather and moods.)

The sweetest words during those days were 'long break'. This was the norm during tuck-shops. A tuck-shop at my school was a food event, organized by a particular class, each month. A Friday would be picked for the purpose. The students and class teachers of the appointed standard would arrange for a supply of items such as patties from the Supreme Bakery, and lic-lollies and chocobars from a Kwality Walls cart. These would then be sold to students at a price higher than MRP. The profits would be sent to Snehalaya, a sister organization that took care of underprivileged girls.

The aim of a tuck-shop being a noble venture was never the mind-set with which we participated in it. Our only attraction was the 'long break'. We would spend long queue minutes to spend our carefully counted money on the overpriced items of food. Sometimes, if you are near the counter, your friends (anyone who knew your name will be your friend on tuck-shop days), will hand you money and shout out their order. And you, being their friend, must get them whatever they want.

The moment you extricate yourself from the crowd at the counter, clutching the kill, more friends would materialize, sweet-talking, and casually breaking off a portion of the prize. Some would not even shy from, "yaar thoda sa dede yaar please". This was never from hunger or their inability to buy for themselves. This was just the custom: never let anyone eat alone. It isn't tuck-shop if you don't steal, beg, or borrow tidbits. So if you had to eat your buy all by yourself, then the trick was: eat quick and don't linger.

All long periods spent on the ground weren't joyful. One such time occurred soon after I started at Senior School. Our school was off on Saturdays; but some Saturdays, maybe a couple a year would be announced as 'working' to compensate for several weekday holidays. On one such working Saturday, my class was out in the ground for our P.T. period. I, along with a few other classmates, was in the Chemistry lobby to look for and grab two badminton racquets and a shuttle cock. 

We didn't realize anything when we slid open the cupboard door. But when I waited behind a classmate to let her find what she needed, we heard screams and thunderous footsteps from inside the building. It was an earthquake. Before the crowd from the classes came rushing out, we ran towards the stage and stayed there.

It was a long day. By the time everyone was out on the grounds, the tremors had long stopped. Some of them began to cry. I had had a long bout of crying during the initial weeks of senior school due to adjustment troubles. It was a struggle not to let the waterworks flowing amidst all the wailing and sobbing.

I may have succeeded for about 5 minutes, and then gave in.  Distraught girls lined near the boundary walls of the school, fearing to go near the building even to have a drink of water, long after the tremors had stopped. I was no different. I cried so much that I began sobbing uncontrollably.

Shirley Aunty, a teacher at school, an old family friend, and my future chemistry teacher, sought me out, and hugged me tight. It didn't help. I simply sobbed ever harder. What plugged the hiccupping-crying routine was probably Munna saying with utter distaste something to the effect of 'grow up!'