THE LAST RIDE
As we all stood there, up on stage in front of the whole school, none of us had a clue as to what we should say. This was our last official school day, and the situation was quite emotionally charged. I remember that my throat had become dry and parched and I felt like if I opened my mouth to speak, no sound would come forth. We were standing before all the students of this institution as examples. I, myself, felt almost translucent, as if all the crimes that I had ever committed were being reviewed. Sister Renu, after delivering her speech, asked if any of us would like to speak. Only Mushfique, Samrina and Raja were brave enough to take the mike. They thanked the school, the teachers, fellow students, staff members and administration, without whom this experience would not have been quite as special. This set in motion our last day in school.
None of us wanted to attend any classes on our last day, with the exception of perhaps Sheehan and Rakibul. Many of us had brought cameras to school, as we wanted to capture these sweet memories forever. Each of us tried to get a picture taken with every person, every group-in short everyone. There was no more partiality, no more biases. I had the realization that all of us would never again be together like this until our graduation. Sure, we would meet each other outside school; we would assemble during the exams. But all of us have a different set of subjects, so the entire batch would never amass.
I was astounded that we took up three whole periods, 120 minutes just to take pictures. Of course, there were various distractions within those precious few moments.
Some one had the bright idea of climbing on top of one of the basketball rings, and then a couple of the guys climbed up there. Obviously, they didn’t go up there at the same time, or that would have been another mark left by us. We didn’t need any more stains upon our already soiled reputation. The legacy left by our batch will be quite exceptional to say the least.
When the bell began to toll the start of the break, I felt another pang of sorrow.
We were done with all the posturing and posing for pictures. It was time for writing some little tidbit on each other’s T-shirts, and scampering around to get our own ones signed. The whole atmosphere was full of emotions, nostalgia, and bittersweet happiness. I found myself clueless and at a loss for words. I didn’t know what to write about my friends who were my classmates, my companions for 12 long years.
Time flew by, and we didn’t take notice. The break ended, and we were summoned to the hall, but we paid no heed. We were much too engrossed in writing on each other’s T-shirts. Finally, we were somehow jostled into Imelda Hall. All the teachers were seated there in a long row, and every single one of them had a broad smile on his or her face. I wondered whether it exhibited relief at being rid of us or regret at losing us. Some of them stood up and said a few priceless words of advice. Then, Sr. Renu gave a speech, and instructed us on how we should do our exams. She told us that we could now enjoy ourselves and then leave the school at 11. Some of us had brought food and drinks, but no one was in the mood for feasting. Nostalgia was kicking in and we darted around saying goodbye to everyone. I tried to make sure that everyone had written something on my T-shirt.
As the clock struck 11, we were asked to leave the premises. This was quite unfair as every batch till now had been allowed to stay as long as they wanted. We came down and said our final goodbyes and took a few last minute photos. I was about to leave, but something caught my attention. Half the class was leaving but the other half had never come down. I had a suspicion that they were upstairs meeting the teachers for one last time. I sneaked up to the teachers’ room & found that my conjecture had been accurate. Many of my friends were there, saying farewell to the teachers who had taught us everything we knew. I joined them enthusiastically and talked with as many of the teachers as possible. It was quite a sentimental situation, for both sides.
Slowly, each of us drifted out of the building that had been our second home for 12 years. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t drag myself out of the shadow of those walls that held so many uncountable memories. Every time I walked out of those gates, something pulled me back in. I don’t know if everyone will remember this school, but I know this much: I won’t be able to forget it. Now, as I sit here reminiscing about those days, I can’t help feeling regret at not being a part of Greenherald anymore. With just a month left before our Cambridge exams, there’s no time to muse over childhood memories. I can’t afford to spend time recollecting and reflecting over the past. I have to look forward to the future and what it holds. So, with a heavy heart, I write this article dedicated to my school. This is my way of saying farewell and thank you to Greenherald.
