Have you ever seen anyone get back their childhood at 63? Oh yes I got it back after 48 years. It is a windfall, landslide and waterfall, childhood cascading along with my schoolmates reaching out through virtual space across land and oceans. So much for social distancing!
I studied in Christ Church Girls Higher Secondary School, Jabalpur. I wore uniform, to develop the identity of just a student. I did not develop any religious identity, even though I went to the school church sometimes and sang hymns everyday at prayer time. Being in an all girls’ school the gender identity in me also did not get pronounced. A school, where I got to learn camaradie and warmth, from my classmates so much so that I did not get any ethnic identity either. A school, where I developed respect for teachers because they commanded not demanded it. I participated in sports and cultural programmes, was first made junior and then senior prefect of Downing House with blue belt. There was competitiveness but no jealousy. As I had got double promotions I cleared my class eleven in 1972 when I was fifteen. Since I even married at fifteen and left Jabalpur, I lost all contact with my classmates. Incidentally Jabalpur is also my place of birth. The moment I hear the name of the place where I spent an entire childhood I can feel the breeze from my sweet home town. Tere daaman se jo aaye un hawaon ko salaam, Chum loon main us zubaan ko jispe aaye tera naam (Salutes to the breeze that come from your space, will kiss the lips which utters your name) is so aptly written by Prem Dhawan and soulfully sung by Manna Dey to give meaning to recollection of ‘watan’(homeland).
It was 30th April when a classmate who I thought at the time was in New York, called me on Facebook messenger. She told me about another classmate was trying to get in touch with me. We connected the same night, two friends the next day and other two the day after. Within a week we were ten school mates in a WhatsApp group as if we were in our last class of 1972 remembering others, our teachers and all that happened in school. We were flittering between the present and the past with ease born of shared school days of almost 9–10 years.
Two friends are pleasantly stuck with their daughters and grandchildren, one in Ahmedabad and one in Australia, four friends are in New York, two retired and two working on frontline, one in Delhi is recording International relations of East Asia, one in Bhopal giving much needed support to people suffering from the impact of lockdown, one in Nagpur whom I thought was in New York giving mental support virtually in these challenging times to her family living in different parts of the world, I in Jaipur writing this blog and one is in Jabalpur managing administration of a school. Jabalpur is the central focus of our lives at present as that was where our school is located.
It is not that I did not try to search my schoolmates and they did not search me earlier. Intermittently I made the effort and gave up because the present took up all my waking hours. My engagement with family and friends, struggle with health, studies, jobs which I considered as life and continuously learning from and of course my daily reading more important than the food intake, I am stating as reason for not getting connected but the time was not right enough. I never thought even once why I am not traceable in the virtual space as I was there in that space on one pretext or other. It is only when my schoolmates eventually came in my life that I realized that not only my surname but also my name was different from what they knew me as. All my friends too had different surnames. My mother used to say rivers can meet but for married girls it is difficult. Well thanks to technology, the lockdown and mostly universe conspiring to get us connected we met. All my schoolmates are married now. They are mothers and grandmothers. We have all met even if this is on virtual space. As we 60+ women have got our childhood back we are already planning to meet personally, preferably in Jabalpur, we all consider our heart were united there.
Olibul
