ITS THAT TIME OF THE YEAR

 IT IS THAT TIME OF THE YEAR

As the sun set over the harbour, the lights of the city came on, one by one. It was the close of a significant phase of my life, as today was my last day at school. As my friends and I hugged, greeted, and embraced each other at the farewell party, the mood was bittersweet. It was a time to be sad because I would soon part ways with some of my friends and teachers who had been with me over twelve years, right from the time I was a toddler and now an adolescent, experiencing puberty. It was also an exciting moment because the unknown future, with its infinite possibilities, beckoned. We signed our names on the back of each other’s shirts, which we would preserve as a memento of our time together. Soon, it was time to leave, but not before we promised to stay in touch forever.

 

As I returned home that evening, I once again looked back on my twelve years at my school, Bishop Cotton, Shimla. Today, as I leave school, it is on a happy note, with many accomplishments to my credit. I am the captain of my dramatic society, the debate team, and the literary culture, and have won many laurels for my school at the various events I have participated in over the years. I have no qualms about admitting that I even excelled in sports and represented my school at various inter-school competitions outside the state. In other words, I leave school as a star student, my parents and teachers are proud of me, and my friends love me. Some even call me the most popular student in school. But it was not like this forever.

 

Let me start from the beginning. “Archie Johnson, open your mouth and answer the question. Okay, wait, open your textbook and read the first chapter’ commanded my teacher, Mr Castro, in a menacing tone.

‘Yes Sir….ugh ugh er…’

‘You can’t read, can you?…’ mocked Mr Castro, as the whole class burst out laughing.

I was in sixth grade and having a hard time. I was really struggling. I dreaded going to school every day and especially attending Mr Castro’s classes. Mr Castro had started picking on me, and I gave him plenty of reasons to do so. As the bell rang, I heaved a sigh of relief and hurried to the PT class. Mr Anupam, my PT teacher, decided we would play football that day. The game started, and suddenly the ball came hurtling towards me. I gave a vigorous kick, missed, tripped, and fell. Mr Castro, who happened to pass by the field, shouted,’ Hey Archie, it seems instead of you kicking the ball, the ball is kicking you!’ The whole field burst out laughing. I cowered in shame and humiliation.

 

I was feeling very dejected and low. I had difficulty concentrating on my studies. My grades were slipping, and my concerned teachers alerted my parents. My parents were worried about me, and I gave them much cause for stress and anxiety. It was a very horrendous time for both my parents and me. I didn’t have much to look forward to at school and was glad when the winter break came on early.

 

It was Christmas once again. It was that time of the year when the whole town was gripped in festive cheer and goodwill. The season is such that even strangers do random acts of kindness for each other and the Gods too are not immune to the spirit. ‘ I wish God blesses our son, and turns his life around this Christmas. This is the only wish in my heart’ I overheard my worried Dad tell my Mom. I felt bad being the cause of my parents’ distress. 

 

 On Christmas Day, I woke up to find a gift that caught my attention right away. It was wrapped in golden paper amongst the other gifts under the Christmas tree in our living room. I hurriedly tore open the box to find a pair of sparkling new sneakers. ‘Merry Christmas!’ the note read, and it was signed ‘Love Dad’. Now I don’t know what it was about those sneakers, but the moment I slipped them on, I felt as if a surge of current swept through me. I hurried outside with new enthusiasm, vigour, and a brand-new sense of identity and purpose. Finding Dad tending the garden, I rushed and hugged him ‘Merry Christmas, Dad. Thanks for the lovely gift.’ And this is the Christmas I remember, for it marked the turning point in my life.

 

From that moment on, I turned a new leaf in my life. My teachers and parents were amazed at my sudden transformation. From a boy who used to be laughed at, I became the boy whom everyone looked up to. ‘Archie Johnson, we are pleased to announce that you have been accepted as a student in our university’ read the letter that the dean of a respected international university has sent. As I read it, my eyes glazed over as I recalled how far I had come from being that bumbling youngster at Bishop Cotton, Shimla.