Monday, February 7th, 2005
10 years out of 100
On the first day of school, I cried.
Everything else is a blur. But this much I remember clearly. On the first day of school, I cried.
The ten years I spent in school were significant not just in the history of the school but in the history of India and, indeed, the world. Maybe everyone thinks this way of their formative years but, even with the tempering brought about by hindsight, I still believe the seventies and eighties were a great time to go to school.
The USA and the USSR were waging a cold war. John Lennon came out of exile but was assassinated soon after. Emergency was declared in India. Sanjay Gandhi became a young and restless political leader to reckon with but died tragically (in what was to be the first of many gruesome deaths in the family but at least Sanjay Gandhi’s death was an accident or so we’re told). The seeds for Maruti as a people’s car were sown. India hosted the Asiad. Colour television made its debut.
And closer home, or should I say closer to school, there were no girls at St John the Baptist High School. The school started enrolling girls only around the time my batch (the class of ’84) was preparing to bow out. So it was something of a boy’s club.