If you have made it this far, I like you. You’ re my type. Definitely. Unless I coerced you into reading this.
After my bed was made and the cupboard sorted, mom and dad proceeded to Boys’ Villa to sort out my brother’s stuff. Boys’ Villa, run by amazing Sr.Acquino, an Irish nun – a splitting image of Mrs Doubtfire, was an extended part of our school with no more than 50 boys till class 5. My brother stayed there from Kindergarten to class 3, before joining BCS in Simla. Boys’ Villa boys were mostly boys whose sisters went to my school. Dalhousie got a buy 1 get 1 free deal from the Dhillons; two little tyrants.
I was equal parts exhausted and glum, so my goodbye to mom and dad was quick; unlike our usual extended Indian goodbyes. I did not look back or I would have cried. I did this so frequently, that for better or worse, it has become a part of me; this avoiding tears and not looking back business. My first night in school, babies of the baby bedroom were in bed by 6:30 pm. Sr. Bernada did rounds of the dorm making sure every baby was tucked in right. As she came to my bed, she saw I had a massive teddy bear and an equally massive doll. Looking at how squished I was in my tiny bed, she said, ” Dhillon bachey(child) either you can sleep on the bed or your dolls, there isn’t enough room for 3 of you”. She was patient to let me decide which one I wanted to snuggle with and which one was to go under my bed. I am eternally grateful for that brief moment of patience. It made a world of difference, and I slipped into instant comfort.
Sr.Bernada. Pic courtesy – Insatgram
Baby Bedroom. Pic courtesy – Instagram
Later I discovered, my parents continued to stay in Dalhousie for 3 more days and checked on us from a distance, to not disrupt our new found momentum. Serious brownie points to them.
I blended in with ease; perhaps it was the consolation of having my favourite toy there (i.e brother), or perhaps it was the friends that I made right away. There was a sense of belonging there, some 6500 ft above sea level, literally a town the size of a Walmart parking lot. School days were hectic, waking up at 6:00 am, to do a loud, communal ” Art Father in Heaven” prayer, just as my aunt had predicted, and getting ready by 6:30 am. In that half hour, we went to the loo, brushed our teeth, unfolded our beds and got dressed. At 6:30 am, everyone went for morning study for an hour, which was followed by breakfast at 7:30 am.
After breakfast, everyone reported back to their dorms to make their beds and toss laundry. In case there was an important announcement to be made, the whole school chanted “Baby Bedrooooom go to the bedroom“. These orders for summoning travelled faster than the speed of light in a school of 200 girls.
At 8:30 am, the entire school gathered for assembly, from Kindergarten to Class 10, looking sharp in our Scottish plaid uniform. Over the years, much to the authority’s dismay, our skirts would become shorter and scoldings would become sharper. Classes started at 9:30 am and carried on till 3:30 pm, followed by a break every 2 periods; porridge break, lunch break, loo break and tea-time break. After tea- time, graceful Bibiji would polish our shoes daily, year after year, while we changed.
Our meals were planned ahead and there was a set menu for every day/ every meal of the week. Although the meals were decent, I must admit that boarding school obliterated my taste-buds. I am thankful for those meals, as I can eat most things under the sun, no matter what part of the world I am in. Except for slimy – puke inducing, smellier than dog-poop chow-mein and mushroom sauce. eeeh. This nasty combo refused to go down my throat, so much so that I often wrapped the drippy thing in my serviette, carefully snuck it out of the dining hall, and slung it over the 10 ft fence. This pattern continued, till I got caught. After that, it didn’t make for a fun story, because punishment and tears were involved.
Within the first week, I had settled in like it was my natural habitat, and Sr. Bernada was so pleased that she made me the dorm in-charge of Baby Bedroom. Later, she would tell my anxious parents, ” Mrs. Dhillon, Dhillon is the new star of the junior school, you need not worry”. This inflated me a little, you know, positive reinforcement, and I excelled in school that year. Although I did well in academics though out school, my frenemy – Trouble, and I, seemed to have signed The Treaty of Versailles. I made peace with it, as it wasn’t leaving me alone.
Once a month we got pocket money, which in 1996 was Rs. 20. Of those 20 Rupees, we almost always bought a glass bottle of Coca Cola and a packet of chips from Gandhi Chowk. This was luxury. These outings were highly anticipated. Life was simple, joy was abundant.
In School, I made friends that are practically family, and their family is like my extended family. Chopra Uncle’s world famous guavas and Mridul’s mom’s brownies became all time favourites. I learnt sharing, I learnt adjusting, I learnt to pick up after falling. I learnt badminton and skating. I learnt Sanskrit. I learnt to knit sweaters and scarves and gloves. I learnt to conserve water. I learnt to be perpetually broke yet content and happy. I learnt to sing and dance. I sucked at both. Above all, I learnt to respect everyone alike. I also learnt that it was unrealistic to expect a cool music teacher like Sharukh Khan from Mohabbatein and annual dances with the boys’ schools. Just like that, 8 years went by and it was time to graduate.
I would happily do it all over again.
(Acknowledgement – I got the inspiration to write this from my sista from anotha motha, Chand. Chand, I love you to the chand and back 🙂 )
Love always,
~NKD
New rays of the sun 