Hey Guys, since this post means so much to me,

Please view it on supriyadikshit.blogspot.com, also...

She and I, we walked out of her house and began walking up to the car. Her face was a mask of turmoil; I could see the waves of tumult and agitation spread slowly and stealthily, from the forehead to her eyes.

I reached out and held her hand. Our eyes met. She smiled.

We never really needed too many words. Today was not exception.

Her mother walked behind us. She was speaking something mundane, as causal and simple as anything could be. We were going to the beauty parlour. Hell, we were supposed to go to the parlour. BM, (lets call her that for now) had to get pretty as her family and she were supposed to leave for, let’s say, Delhi to meet the family of a prospective, uh, guy.

Well let me not delve too much into this aspect of her life. I can dedicate a whole new post to this one.

Let’s stick to the waves of agitation that were slowly casting a dark shadow on a face that’s usually so calm and serene.

So here were we, standing outside in the skin-spillting, greasy heat; waiting for the car to arrive so that we could drive away to make my BM pretty for someone to look at her and love her.

BM asked her Mom to go back inside and then she turned to look at me and said, ‘I need to go there, will you come with me?’

I simply nodded my head. Yes.

Words never were so important. Never will be.

Flashes

Flashes of innocence blind my eyes as I shut them to conjure up the vision of that one place that has bought me the only peace I’ve ever known. Laugh at a twenty three year old, mature (or so people say) and balanced girl if you may, for my eyes cloud with tears of longing when my mind reaches out to that realm where my innocence is still is prisoner, where my soul still haunts.

I’m glad my innocence is a prisoner. I am glad my soul still haunts that divine realm.

Welcome to my alma mater. Welcome to my school.

Amidst the world that’s not ashamed to change every passing second, there’s a place that’s surreal as a dream, yet, is the only reality that has ever made sense to me.

My school. My innocence.

It’s a love story that goes back, now, to some sixteen or seventeen long years. Those years, full of grace and love, dignity and longing. These years stopped belonging to me the very first day, I entered those blue gates, (my gates of heaven); a fat little child of six, rambunctious and curious, looking around me in glee and wonderment, a wonderment allowed only to the most innocent.

I did not know then but the very first day I disembarked from the yellow school bus, clad in a little blue skirt and a white shirt, a white dog tag with my name on it, slung around my neck; my eyes curious and my mind full of stories; that was the day I gave my soul for safekeeping. I made those walls my guardians, the red, long, unending and divine corridors, my parent, the high ceilings of the classrooms my home away from home. That day, I received a gift too. I was gifted a spirit that knew tenacity of love. This is the legacy of my school.

You would love me to describe my school to you, wont you? I would have if I were so sure of myself that I would do justice to beauty of such majestic dimensions; that I would be verbose enough to describe the huge blue gates, that swing in the driveway of the mind like the foamy gates of heaven; or, the winding, driveway splattered by neem-fruit, dotted by ancient neem trees that sway with glee when they look at my face; or, the red brick buildings, the endless corridors that resound with a million footsteps that have carved their eternal stories on their mosaic; or, the Grotto of the Mother and the Child; or, the Chapel where sits the God that has loved and protected my soul since I’ve sensed divinity… the Sisters that shaded my childhood with their stories from Romania and Europe; the Teachers that kissed my dirty face, held my fat fingers and led me from singing ‘God’s love is so beautiful’ to the darker, but unbelieving ably beautiful world of Shakespeare…

What should I describe to you? Can a child describe how it felt when he was lodged in his mother’s womb? Can I describe how it felt to be rocked in the arms of love…?

You wouldn’t want me to describe. Something’s are best, left alone.

I can describe the connection though.

I grew up a girl in love with Jesus, English and dreams. So far I’ve not fallen out of love. After school I went chasing material dreams and so did BM. The dreams took us far away, from home, each other, and our essence. You could say that we were two people, out in the world, soulless. You see, our souls refused to follow us to the lands we sought, to the place we dreamt of. Our souls froze in time. They haunted the one place on earth I think was worth haunting.

Year after year passed, it’s the fifth year now. I came back home, lesser and lesser. Don’t get me wrong, ties of love with family and home did not fade; only commitments grew, both professional and personal. In the midst of this chaos, I kind of learnt how to live and function without a soul.

However, the essence that once shaped my character, surfaced from time to time. Like a calling that is supposed to be answered, at all costs, there emerged a baffling, raging desire in me sometimes, to just turn around and trace my steps back to the place where lay buried my essence. Simply put, I missed school.

Great plans were made, ploys hatched. Finally, this time, BM and me, came home together. School was on our agenda, the primary need that had to be answered at all costs. Actually, going back to school, to answer the raging need in me was one big reason why I was coming back home to battle with the skin scathing heat.

Where the Soul lives…

‘I need it,’ she said to me, as we settled in the car. He face was bruised with invisible scars. I could see the havoc discord had created. It was written all over her face.

‘Hmm…’ I said. My mind was a million miles away, or maybe it was just where it should have been.

I was recalling the events of the past few days. How all our plans were being destroyed, how we were just not able to give time to our most precious needs, how the world wanted the best of us, leaving us hapless and sans energy to pursue or innermost wishes and desires.

Actually, only a couple of days back our plan to go to school had been scrapped. I had been sad beyond words but I along the way, I had learnt how to become ‘comfortably numb’. When I was dejected and disappointed, all I ever needed was to turn off a switch. All I ever needed was to get in the ‘like-I-ever-cared’ mode… and Lo! Things failed to reach me… touch me…

Her hand slid carefully to mine. Her fingers found mine. They snaked around my wrist and held on. I felt a familiar sensation crawl up my belly and I turned to look at her. She smiled at me. I smiled back.

A few minutes later we were standing before the gates.

Needless to say, we did the most natural thing then; we entered, into the Gates of Heaven…

To describe the journey from now on would be blasphemous. It would be profanity. It would be desecration of love. It would be like limiting God with words; for words, by they’re nature are limiting.

I would like to relate one incident though.

It was towards the end. I was overwhelmed but happy. It had been a joyous reunion with my innocence and most importantly, if felt good to have a soul feel inside this shell…

You know what; I wanted to hold onto the soul. I wanted to take it back with me to the world outside.

I looked at BM and my eyes spoke to her eyes. When have we needed so many words?

I walked up to a huge Neem Tree, gnarled and ancient. I reached up to a hanging branch. I wanted to pluck a leaf or to for remembrance, for the feel.

I clutched the twig that my fingers pulled and put it up in the sunshine, as if, waiting for a spectrum of light to pass through it and course up my veins.

A naked twig! That was all I had manage to pluck. In a place that abounds with like some billion leaves and fauna… all my fingers managed to grasp was a naked, dying twig… So much for remembrance…

I looked up at BM in disappointment. My eyes clouded, yet again.

She looked back like she was the calmest thing ever that happened to this world.

The she said, ‘Don’t you understand? It doesn’t want you to take it away with you. It wants you to keep coming back to it. Remember you gave this place, something for safekeeping? It’s safe here, and only here. Don’t force it out for companionship. Come back. Keep coming back.’

Wow!

Then she came near me and held my hand. I looked down at the measly twig I had clutched between my fingers. I let it fall.

The little twig fell to the ground like it was the most natural thing that would happen to it. It hit the ground like it belonged.

One more look and a few yards of footsteps later, we walked out of heaven, back into the world.

We were sitting in the car when BM held my hand once more.

‘I needed it. I never knew it called me too, the way it called you. I needed it and see, I feel peace. Everything’s gonna be okay now. I know.’ She said.

I looked at her and smiled.

‘Yea,’ I said, ‘everything’s gonna be okay now.’

P.S: I haven’t done justice to my school here. It’s a prayer. Much much more beautiful than my words could describe.