Initiation
There was a jump in my step as I got into the car. I talked excitedly about being able to go to boarding school. I was soon to turn eight and my imagination was leaping ahead of reality, dreaming about my would be new life. In my head boarding school was the heaven where you would get to play all day. Where life would be glorious — away from parental supervision. Where in the company of other equally excited boys, one would realize the day’s true potential with a full day worth of football, hide-and-seek and cricket. The picture of being able to play in huge fields, swimming in a full pool, and doing a range of activities through the entire day-everyday excited me infinitely. But that is only how far my imagination took me. I lacked the fortitude to think about all the things that would not be. Things that I took for granted and things I would have to adjust to. But that is what the kid I was — optimistic and idealistic.
The journey would take about 6 hours, winding through different towns in the plains before hitting hills roads about an hour away from our final destination. The car was packed with a trunk containing clothes and other paraphernalia that I would need on a day to day basis for my new life. I had packed a few games — my favorite Pokemon cards, my cricket bat. Through the entire journey I kept impatiently questioning my parents about our time of arrival. Hour by hour as time ticked away my excitement kept mounting, till we reached the town and then the school, where I would spend an entire month without seeing my family for the first time ever.
This realization was also slowly creeping into my conscience as the trunks were hauled up to the locker room and clothes were laid out in the cupboard that I was assigned. The locker room was a room full of cupboards. This is where students changed their clothes. In front of each cupboard was a wooden box where the dirty laundry went. They were called Dhobi boxes. In the coming days, I would learn about all the words used to describe everything within my new world. Dormitories, tuck room, matron, bearers. Grade 4 had its own small locker room with an attached washroom that had sinks as numerous as the cupboards in the locker room. From grade 5 you got to go to the senior locker room which had over 500 cupboards. That is when among other things bed wetting was not tolerated. But for now grade 4 also had a dedicated matron with the dedicated locker room because younger children needed more care.
If you were wondering, a matron is the person in-charge for the upkeep of a certain boarding school class. They kept us in check, tended to our needs in the locker room and made sure we were disciplined. After talking to the matron and setting up my cupboard, my parents and I made our way up to the dormitory to set my bedding. As a fourth grader, my bed was all the way towards the farther end of the 200 bed junior dormitory. I made a mental note of remembering the position of my bed since all beds looked the same with the school assigned green bed covers. Mine was the fifth bed in the third row from the end of the wall. The yellow name tags hanging off the head of each bed helped. I also took a mental note of the names of my to-be dorm neighbors though I had never seen them. The frequent bed wetters got the special beds on the other side of the aisle. They also had to bring extra bed sheets. They had no neighbors.
In my excitement, I ventured out of the dormitory while my parents were setting up my bed. From the second floor, where I currently stood, I could see students my age lined up in front of the dining hall. Those would be my new friends. Curiosity pulled me towards them as I went down the flight of stairs and crossed the quadrangle to see if I could make a new friend. As I neared the queue across the quadrangle, I saw that a bigger boy also stood on the raised platform that lead to the dining hall from the quadrangle. On seeing me approach he looked at me intently and asked me — “Do you have a tuck box?”. I did not know what a tuck box was. I stood there silently.
The bigger boy flared his nose. And asked me again in a loud irritated voice. While all the younger boys stood in absolute silence. Staring. This scared me. I felt intimidated and looked around to see if my parents would answer him. But they were still in the dormitory. I panicked. I would later find out that he was the school prefect who inspired fear in the junior school. For now I needed to find my parents in the dormitory. I was so utterly unprepared for this new life of mine. When I reached the dormitory I found that they were no longer there. I did not know any more about the school to know where to find them or where to even go looking. I came out of the dormitory and started to frantically look around. I felt lost.
But my frenzy was tamed when moments later I did spot them and upon spotting ran to them and upon reaching hugged my mother tight. I was sullen. My bubble had just as easily been burst. But after my parents talked to me for a while, I felt grudgingly optimistic again. The clock struck 5:00. It was time for my parents to depart. I was escorted to the study hall where I said my final goodbyes to my parents. Then I entered the classroom room, where my peers sat. The same ones I saw lined up outside with the rude big boy. Here I would sit with them quietly everyday from 5:00–7:00 during the study period. Today I had entered late. But only today that was allowed. In boarding school language, I was the “new boy”. And I would be the “new boy” till I learned all the rules.
