Revisiting one’s Alma Mater can not only bring solace from the stresses of corporate life but enlightenment as well.
I woke up to the strains of ‘Manic Monday’ by The Bangles from My iPod’s alarm, which selects songs at random: “Six o'clock already, I was just in the middle of a dream…” Nothing could have announced the hectic day that lay ahead of me more accurately. Now in the mood for more Russian roulette, I picked up the book of motivational quotes lying on my bedside table and flipped open a page at random. My eyes fell on John Burroughs’ one-liner: ‘To learn something new, take the path you took yesterday.’ The words hit me with cross-wire precision. I just had to take the day off for some introspection. I guess that’s why Casual Leave was invented – for casualties like these!
So, PDA in hand, at precisely 8.00am, I walked down my street along with school-going children, right up to the imposing Portuguese building of the convent where I had studied from Kindergarten through High School. As it turned out, it was a trip down memory lane. Standing there in the light drizzle on that June morning, I was transported back in time to another dark, wet and cloudy morning in June 1974, the first day of my last year at school.
On that memorable day, at the stroke of the school bell, a young nun had come bustling into the classroom with the brightest of smiles we'd ever seen, bursting with energy and enthusiasm, rearing to go! She introduced herself and announced that she would be our Class Teacher. She came over to each one of us and got us to introduce ourselves.
When finally we had all settled down, she opened her textbook and asked the class, “What do you know about William Wordsworth?” With a straight face, I stood and said, “His words are worth listening to!” And then everyone burst out laughing! Our team was born that instant! When I paid her a courtesy call recently, she said she still remembered it after over 30 years! To this day, the class of '75 draws inspiration from her vibrant personality.
As I walked down the hallway and through the corridors, the laughter echoing in the recesses of my mind, it dawned upon me that there were quite a few elements about my Alma Mater that still served as wellsprings of inspiration for me: The chapel, where I had played my guitar for the first time in June ‘74 and developed my skills in the art of song-writing; the Christmas-tree, in the cloistered garden, which still seems to be growing - living proof that there is no limit to growth despite varying environmental conditions; the twin steeples which let me know from the window of a taxi cruising along the river bank on my return from an outstation business trip, that I am already home; the library that turned me from an avid reader into a prolific writer; the night-sky over the convent - the only place left in town where I can see stars that still look the same as they were when I gazed upon them with the eyes of a child as I still do; the convent bell that rings every evening at Angelus, reminding me that not a day goes by without the nuns kneeling in prayer before the statue of Our Lady of Fatima beseeching her to intercede for all the children that have ever passed through the portals of the school.
Paradoxically, it is here in the past that I return to in body, mind and soul each time I have to take my next step into a world that is at times dark, wet and cloudy.
The rain had stopped and the sun was out when I finally stepped out onto the busy street, PDA in hand, with not a word written on its shiny glass screen but only the reflection of my brightly smiling face. It said it all!
