Home away from home

Since I’ve said upfront that this blog is about choices that I’ve made, and some that were made for me and how they’ve shaped up my life….I thought I’d share a slice of my life that wasn’t my choice but I am glad that this choice was made for me – My father’s decision to pack me off to a boarding school. Thanks to this experience I have a great many stories in my kitty today. Stories that will make you laugh, cry and gasp in amazement with a tinge of fear.

These are feelings in hindsight but what it meant to me then is a different matter. I wasn’t the first in my family to be sent to a boarding school. My cousin, a year older was the first brave heart. So the buzz and fuss around boarding schools was the subject of regular family discussion. On one such evening I barged into the room when my grandfather, uncles and my father were at it. The colour of their complexion turned pale as they saw me. I was able to discern that they were talking about me. I hurriedly came out of the room and plonked myself in my favourite spot (under the study table)and began thinking – they were talking about boarding schools…so how come I featured in their conversation?; they couldn’t be thinking of sending me to a boarding school…no no that’s not possible. Boarding schools are meant for unruly and undisciplined children. (Or so I thought then) I was far from it; basically the exactly opposite – demure, obedient, disciplined, soft spoken and the studious types. With these virtues I did not need to go to a boarding school. I made this conclusion to myself and cast aside my fears. Quickly the matter faded from my memory and I was happy but not for too long.

One day the suspense ended and my father broke this news to me. Actually that’s a mild way of putting it. It wasn’t short of hurling a bomb at me. I was stunned, shocked and inconsolable. Try breaking this news to a twelve year old and you are bound to get that reaction in most cases. He added that he had carefully thought this over, it wasn’t a hurried decision. Also that he could give to me in writing that I would be grateful to him for this many years later. He promised that this would be the golden period in my life. All of this made no sense to me then. I laughed (and cried) it away. But as things have turned out every word he said has come true. The six years of boarding school life has indeed been a memorable one for me. And this write up is with the intention to convey my gratitude to my father for having taken this decision.

So to continue with my story - I revolted, was miserable and no matter what consolation anyone offered I was not ready to lap it up. I put my foot down, argued to find enough reasons to be sent to a boarding school. When that did not work I pleaded, made promises – that I would study harder, come first in class and a whole dozen of other promises (which I don’t remember now). But no matter what I did my father’s decision stood irrevocable, much to my grief. I was angry and hurt. But what I did not understand then is what I know now – that his decision stemmed solely from his concern and love for me; from the worries and anxieties of a single parent. Honestly, I never really felt my mother’s absence to a great extent in my early stages. My father fulfilled both roles so wonderfully that today I can fall back on memories of a happy childhood.

My father tried consoling me. I told him that I loved him too deeply to live away from him. He reassured me that he did the same. I wasn’t convinced. I thought this was his way of punishment. Far from it, this was his compassion towards me. He foresaw what I could not see - When I came home from school there was no one except the maid to tend to my needs. This is a small example. There were many such incidents. It pained him greatly to see this and boarding school was the solution. He envisioned a happy life for me, a new place I could call ‘home’ where I would be surrounded by friends and teachers all day long. This is what he desired for me; even at the cost of trading it with more loneliness for himself.

My new home was to be tucked away in the hills - Mussoorie. All arrangements were made and my father and I left for our destination which my grandfather described as the ‘heavenly abode’. He was excited that his granddaughter would be studying in such a beautiful and serene atmosphere. I on my part still nurtured the hope that I would be able to convince my father on our way and come back home with him.

We reached Dehradun and spent the night there. I sobbed and sobbed, full of worries and anxieties. My father grew worried. For the first time in many days he said to me – “Let’s go and see the school tomorrow morning. If you do not like it then I will not force you.” These words revived my hope and the rest of the night passed off peacefully.

The next morning, an hour and a half journey along winding roads from Dehradun took us to Mussoorie.  It was indeed the ‘heavenly abode’. The freshness in the air, cool breeze and the clouds floating past made me smile after a long time. We straightaway headed to school once we reached Mussoorie. At the entrance, huge iron gates (about 12 feet high) flung open on both sides and the car chugged along with great difficulty to climb the steep slope ahead before we reached the landing area. We entered the reception area. The first impression was good.

Formalities were quickly completed and I was taken to a different room for my entrance test. I finished the test in half the stipulated time. My father was surprised at that and worried that I must have deliberately not written my papers well. I reassured him that I would not do such a thing. The next hour or so was spent doing a reconnaissance of the school. By the time we finished with it the results were out and I had been selected. My father was happy and turned to look at me.

He said now the final decision is yours. With head lowered and teary eyed I said to him that I will stay back. Till date I do not know what changed my decision in the affirmative. Probably it was just meant to be. My father reconfirmed – “Are you sure”. To which I said that I liked the campus and wanted to stay back. And then that was it. I hugged my father one last time. I could see the tears welling up in his eyes but he turned before I could see them drop. He bid me a goodbye and walked on. I looked after him for a long time till he was gone. Someone came along and pulled me as I walked with heavy steps – scared, nervous, excited and lonely. And thus began my journey in a new ‘home’ far far away from home.