Yes, this one incident slammed me hard and locked my brain on memory lane. The things I couldn't shake off but only satisfy the raging blood soaked tissues in my skull to feed on them - the past. That handshake. The basher. That grey trouser and white shirt. The maroon blazer. Green and maroon tie. Ah, yes, the brown shoes from Bata. The pride we carried in our boyhood days energized us to keep the torch ablaze. A heartfelt love for being part of a strong tradition of winners. This is a place that stained us even to this very day. That memory that became a part of every boy who used that road. Where we became men and knew how to handle grown ups' business - the bottle and money. What an orientation to the journey of destiny. The days we all don't mind to relive. The life in khaki shirts and shorts decorated with the deep green and maroon tie slithering from the neck - the ranker's attire. Yes. The one that influenced us to hum during the mass punishment. Oh these are the thoughts I never get tired of sharing. There are just so alive within my veins. And today I won't just address my elder without the rightful respect. Morning Sir, Afternoon ma'am, good evening Sir. My hands can't be in my pocket when addressing those who saw the sun before me. The values of being there which I can't trade for anything today. Amazing how Natural Geography slammed me hard towards memory lane when they aired that tiger. The stripes on that animal took me to that field - where we spat on each others' faces and never noticed, crying our lungs out for the Tigers team. Long live Prince Edward School.
No comments:
Post a Comment