I walked past the gates into the school grounds. As I walked on the asphalted ground towards the administrative building, my conscious was overwhelmed by all the memories that rushed out of my unconscious like bat out of hell. I had to stand still a second and compose myself before I could continue.

I walked past the flag pole which hoists the national flag every day when school is in session. Seeing that flagpole again reminded me of an incident that I thought I had forgotten for a long time. It was the talk of my class for days. I guess I was in fifth standard (I dont quite remember). It was pleasent, warm morning, and so the school decided to have the morning assembly and prayer outside at the (outdoor) basketball court. When the assembly was in progress, the school principal was escorted to the flag pole to hoist the national flag. The principal pulled the rope on the pole to unfurl the flag, but it would not loosen. It was bound a little too tight. So the principal pulled harder and the rope snapped (it was an old withered rope). The bundle that was the national flag of India came crashing down like a dead rat dropped by an eagle. There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by sparse giggles at the incident. The person responsible for conducting the assembly was confused as to what to do next. Typically, you order the assembly to salute the flag after its unfurled. But this obviously wasnt the typical case. Confused by the unexpected turn of events, and unimaginative by god's grace, he ordered the assembly to salure the flag. That did it, the crowd burst out laughing at that order. It took a couple of minutes and intense shouting from all the teachers and staff to restore order again and continue with the prayer. The incident was the talk of the class for quite a few days. And for some reason, of all the things that had happened involving the flag pole, this incident was the one that seemed to pop into my head first, and stayed.

The asphalted ground I was walking on had been our playground for quite a few years. In elementary school, when we were at the very bottom in the pecking order, this was the only place we found that we could play in. I remember my share of falls on that abrasive ground with rather painful lacerations. Yet somehow that never really bothered us. It was all a part of having fun. And now, here I am, a grown man who is afraid to fall down and get hurt. Feels like the world makes a coward out of you as you grow older.

Eventually, after what felt like a long time, I found myself in front of the entrance to the main building. When I walked in, I saw everything as it was when I was a student, and yet so much had changed. I shape was still the same, but the form was completely different. I had no idea who was still working the the school. I want sure if I knew anyone there at all. Not sure who or what to expect, I walked into the principal's office.

When I walked into the office, I saw a familar face. It was Mr. Rana, frequently called the grand old man of the school. He has been a teacher in the school ever since I can remember. There are so many stories about him, I could write a book recounting all the tales. He was known for his long impromptu speeches to kill time if the school assembly were to conclude ahead of time. He was determined not to let the kids go before the alloted time. We were often bored to death by his speeches, but that never deterred him. He had a lot of appreciation and respect for which often cut both ways. If there was anything to be done, I was the one he called upon. It didnt matter how busy I was with everything else, I had to get these things done. Be it writing an essay on some subject for the school magazine, or representing the school in a quiz, speech, or debate competitions, I was his man for the job, and I was to do it even if it killed me. On the other hand, I could get away with a lot. He always had my back on any mischef that I may commit (of which there were dime a dozen).

His classes were the best. He was a Hindi teacher, and would often go into tangents in Hindi classes that had nothing to do with the topic in discussion, but he enjoyed those monologues nonetheless. It would often go on for 10-15 min leaving precious little time to get any actual reading done in the class. When he did teach, or describe poems and essays, he would get so immersed in the description that he often forgot where he was, and who he was lecturing to. He tripped over the teacher's chair on more than one occasion as he was vigorously describing lines in a poem with his inimitable animated style. He had the sort of passion that couldn't be rivaled by anyone around him. All said and done, it was relieving to be taught by someone with that kind of passions. He was much respected by all student for that. That made him more of an icon in the school's folklore.

Mr. Rana was now the acting principal of the school. When I walked into the principal's office, he was overjoyed to see me. He welcomed me with open arms and had the peon bring in some special tea just for me. We talked for a while, each of us bringing the other up to speed on how things have been going on in each other's lives, and the school itself. He was really proud of me and how far I had come with my education and stuff. After a half hour conversation, I took leave of him to explore more of the school I spent 12 years of my life in.

I spent the rest of the morning walking around in the school premises. I started with the assembly hall that was next to the basket ball court. The assembly hall doubled as the school auditorium as well. It was the venue for all morning assemblies (when it wasn't bright and sunny outside). All the kids assembled every morning there for the daily prayer. Girls on the right half, boys on the left; the smallest class in the front and the oldest class in the back. The prayer was secular (i.e., no reference to any particular religion) except for the mention of God in it. This was followed by the thought for the day, and then came a one minute silence. To this day I haven't been able to figure out why we had to observe that one minute silence. It was never explained to us, and we didn't ask. Following the silence was the National Pledge that went something like this:

India is my country.
All Indians are my brothers and sisters. I love my country, and I am proud of its rich and varied heritage.
I shall always strive to be worthy of it.
I shall give my parents, teachers and all elders respect and treat everyone with courtesy.
To my country and my people, I pledge my devotion.
In their well being and prosperity alone lies my happiness.

The pledged was followed by the news, and we ended the assembly with the national anthem. Between news and the anthem often we'd have some song recitation, or announcements. If we were in an indulgent mood, we'd even have an informative article read, or have an oral quiz. All of this was performed by students. My personal favourite was the quiz. I was often the quiz master, and when I wasnt, I was in the audience attempting all the questions that others couldnt answer correctly. Those were fun times.

When I got to the assembly hall, what I saw shocked and saddened me. That hall was in a terrible state of disrepair with broken windows, peeling paints, and water stains on all the walls. This was not the assembly hall I remembered. Unfortunately, this was an isolated case, as I was to discover soon, the entire school was in a state of disrepair, or arrested decay . I lingered on for a few minutes, taking the whole scene in. Reliving many memories that I had of that place, and moved on to see rest of the school campus. 

The next place of visit was the makeshift cricket ground that we had. It was at the back of our high school classrooms. Every year, as sports day neared, many competitions were held in the small gounds at the back of the school. Our makeshift cricket ground was the location where Kho-Kho and Kabbadi was often played as a part of annual sports events. For as long was I was in school, these ground were maintained in really good conditions. The Kho-Kho poles were always there, and the kabbaddi lines were sort of etched into the ground. But what I saw when I got there was nothing like what I remembered. There was no semblence to the ground that I knew. It was just an abandoned plain ground with patches of grass all over the place. It didnt look like students even used that ground anymore. I had a sinking feeling that the school that I remembered and cherished so long no longer existed. The building that I saw before me, and its surroundings were a hollow shell of what I knew as Kendriya Vidyalaya Kudremukh. It is often said that places dont change, people do. When you go back to a place after a long time, the change you percieve is you, not the place. But this is not so here. The place has definitely changed; its dying a painful death.

I walked on to the ground where, as a elementary kid, I often played in. This place had gone to the dogs, quite literally! There were dogs there! I guess kids dont play there either anymore. Kinda made me wonder where the school kids played anyway. Maybe the lifestyle here has changed to a point where the building and surroundings are the same, but the way people go aoubt their lives has no semblence to how we did over 10 years ago. It si indeed amazing when you think about it. Its the arrow of time. You can't change the direction in which it moves, and the changes it brings about are permanent insofar as any changes that it brings about are forever a part of the history.

Moving on, the volleyball field was no different. All that stood to remind you of its past were two poles between which once hung a loose volleyball net. All that was left of the high jump pit in the southeast end of the volleyball court was hard solid ground leaving no trace of what it once had been. It was like the place that I knew was melting away and was being replaced by something that was something that was not all too dissimilar, but quite unlike what was. All I needed was the right prism to look through and it was all there, the place exactly as I remembered it.

At this point, I was honestly scared to see my beloved Lily pond, at least what was a lily pond. I still remember the pond from my memories of elementary and middle school classes. The lilies bloomed sometime in September-October; just after the rains. The pond was teeming with life. There were fishes, crabs, frogs, and even an occasional water snake. We often walked around the pond, catching tadpoles, and some of the braver folks played with the crabs that didnt seem too happy with our intrusion. When I got to the lily pond, all I saw was a rough patch of grass where once water flowed. The outlines were still there, with my prisms of the mind, I could still see the pond, with its flowers, fishes,  and crabs. My heart raced every so slightly faster when I thought about how excited we were when the rains stopped and all of us rushed to the pond for our day out. We used to spend hours there, looking for our tadpoles and crabs. The highlight of the day was when someone spotted a water snake and all of us rushed to get a glimpse from a safe distance. There was an inexplicible mix of curiosity, fear, and respect in the air. Through my prisms, I saw it all again, experienced it all again. And now it was time to bid my school goodbye and move on.