MY LAST DAY AT SCHOOL

A school culture is a set of norms, values and beliefs, rituals and ceremonies, symbols, and stories that make up the persona of humans. School life is one of the most memorable days of my life, as they are for all people. When I am in a pensive mood the memories of my last day at school start to roam in the corridors of my mind. “It wasn’t just school life to me it was the chapter I never wanted to end” I ruminate about my last day at school. I woke up with the dawn, skipped my breakfast, and was elated to be dressed up in colorful clothes. The school bus came at its routine time. I was thrilled to move without a heavy satchel at my back. I jumped out of the bus, my heart pounding and the bells on. The entrance of the school was beautifully decorated with flowers and banners wishing a happy farewell. The balloons further embellished the decoration. We were welcomed in the school auditorium warmheartedly. The stage was beautifully decorated. “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” The momentous event started with the recitation of the holy Qur’an subsequently a boy amused the audience with his melodious ghazal. A comedy skit was performed by our class. A student delivered an emotional speech for the teachers which made everyone downhearted. It was a beautiful day that stole our hearts. “The best and the most beautiful things cannot be touched nor seen. They have to be felt with the heart.” The principal of the school also delivered a speech, focusing on our bright future. Afterward, dinner was served. It was a full ten-course dinner. Songs were sung by the teachers and the students. Shields were presented to the outgoing students. “Days come and days pass, but fine days remain in our hearts.” I was in a state of dilemma, should I be sad about losing my fellows, or be happy looking forward to my bright future? “Every beginning has an end every ending marks a new beginning.” For one last time, I visited my school. I saw my classroom, the corridors, and the playground with teary eyes in which the fireflies of hope flew. I don’t know whether they were joyful or painful. I presume both. I miss school life in ways that not even words can understand. Whenever I get sight of the frames and hanging memories in my room, I get pushed back in those days. Seeing the frames, I shed tears, sometimes smile, and sometimes wish that I were back in those days. “Friends depart and memory takes them to her caverns, deep and pure.” 

Hashim X M D