The feeling of attending school, partially

By Atharv Patil

It took a while for me to make myself comfortable in my seat. As I did, I gave a thorough glance at my surroundings. The unused blackboard, devoid of the date and the decor, which would otherwise be etched gleefully in coloured chalk; the naked raspberry chart-boards, which would at times remain invisible through a mix of yellow chart papers with sparkling borders and graphics; and the spotless passages separating two rows of seats, which used to, once, be arduous to navigate, due to untidy heaps of school bags of assorted colours. Still, my heart smiled upon discerning the fact that the much-awaited day of returning to school had finally arrived.

There were only fourteen of us in the classroom, who were called to school that day to be briefed on the Mathematics Practical Assignment. Although there were other students belonging to junior classes occupying neighbouring classrooms, their presence was hardly noticed by me while I had been traversing the corridor to reach mine. Perhaps, the masks on them restrained much more than mere words.

Not much happened during that one hour spent at school. The tasks were assigned to us and in compliance, we started working on them with our heads bowed down. Occasionally, the vrooming sounds from numerous passing motorcycles could be heard, from the street below, interspersed by the periodic temple bells as well as the hymns from the mosque, both of which, seemingly, hadn’t worked. Apart from those, it was only the silence that talked.

I finished my work and was granted permission to disperse, along with a couple of other students. I stood up slowly, and with a similar pace packed all my things with some hesitancy. Expressing my gratitude to my teacher, I left the classroom and started walking towards the exit, feeling my atmosphere at each step.

I arrived at an intersection in the hallway, where I abruptly stopped. I stood there for a moment, which I tried to make the longest one, just for breathing a little. Sliding down my mask, I let a few gulps of water comfort my dry throat. It didn’t help much, however, I moved on, opening up on the street.

I started on my way home, following the old familiar path —first, the alleyway, and then the lush, tree-canopied path leading to a tiny pedestrian bridge over the creek—which I nostalgically traced, all the while thinking only about a single thing.

As I reached halfway on the bridge, I realised that, though we had returned to our school, the school itself was yet to return to us.