This year, all I can fathom about are the ‘lasts’. The last time we took a school vacay. The last time we own a defective desk. The last time I sit in a classroom comprising teenagers who pretend to be adults. The last time when I put sticky notes underneath the lid of the desk. The last time I’ll make announcements and ask the girls to assemble under the ‘neem tree’. The last time we’ll sit on the floor of the tennis court and crib about how we miss the recess, every single day. The last time, I’ll laugh at a girl who’ll briefly touch the gong and run away, giggling. The last time when we’ll wear ethnic clothes on Meena Bazaar and feel like the absolute divas on the face of the earth. The last time when I’ll be on the stage, at the lectern, trembling. The last time when I’ll sing the school song in that auditorium, out of tune, as a school girl. The last time when I’ll shush the girls standing in that balcony. The last time when I’ll sit on the steps near the field with my best friend and talk about how we managed to ace a test we barely studied for. The last time when the teachers will make me run around the whole school for menial tasks and for some reason, I’ll enjoy it. The last time when I’ll see small girls, dressed in colourful gowns going around, giving sweets- and some girls wishing them happy birthday just to get one toffee. The last time when I’ll ask Rajkumar bhaiya for an extra hymn book. The last time I’ll feel at home.The last time when I’ll be home.
I know, it’s probably too early to even think about this, but this is just an outburst of emotions on a Sunday which we cherish so much now, but, will not want one when the last few days of our school life are on our threshold.

2 thoughts on “Lasts.

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