A few months ago, I had read about the concept of the mutability of human nature as opposed to the permanence of art. However, Keats could have shouted his lungs out and I wouldn't have understood him as much as I did in the past few months, which have been morphosis magnanimous for me. School, which I had long considered an unchangeable and eternal element of my life; changed. Bleary circumstances snatched away from me a place I had lovingly called home for a decade.
It isn’t like I have a grudge against my new school - it’s a wonderful place with friendly peers and loving teachers, but for reasons varied, home is still St. Mary’s.
An unnamed bond had corded itself between me and the Maryite jacket of bright green blades of grass, crowned by the sympathetic pearls, the tokens of the moon, which always seemed to reflect my mood - limpid on mornings of tests and sparking on half-day mornings. The strong roots of the ancient banyan trees that have supported swinging children since a century and a half are not very different from the dead and lifeless rocks that sweltered along the rose-lined pathway, but filled with the memories of a thousand giggles and a thousand tears. Ancient libraries that have seen generations of students just have a different aura around them - the vintage smell of yellowed paper assaulted one’s senses as one opened the antique wooden cupboards; pieces of furniture that are rich with the touches of veterans that lie peacefully in graves and continue to bless the walls and senses; the material and abstract elements of the school. Arched hallways seemed to echo eternally with shouts of glee, amplified by the love and blessings of teachers. Mornings greeted by agile squirrels and chirping birds singing songs of bloom surrounded each student, but as is the law of the universe, we were oblivious to this beauty till the days preceding the goodbyes, overloaded with nostalgia and gratitude.
The Chapel Of The Visitation, embraced by the orange-hued gulmohars, was a true retreat in this fast-paced world riddled with deadlines, submission, tests and results. It grants peace and sanctuary to all - blind to the differences in background, language and religion. Each flame burning bright in it is the embodiment of how the school would wish its students to live - burning away, imparting light and warmth to others; active, aggressive and restless when challenged, and serene, bountiful and committed to servitude otherwise.
In these ten years at this prestigious institution, I have met some of the most wonderful people I will ever know, and formed bonds that will forever remain the most prized in my heart. After all, being a Maryite is not something that weans…
Author: Shashmita Sanyal
Editor: Navya Jain