GloPoWriMo 19/30

i.

I’ll start this off with some context,
A pre-narrative to my narration,
And the random thoughts that will fill this creation.
I hold no loyalty to any colours,
Nor to a particular flag,
And contrary to my Graduation speech,
About my time in high school, I’m not glad.
But let’s step away for a minute,
And go back in time:
Let me take you on a journey,
A story leading up to my prime.

ii.

I remember bright red shorts.
My white shirt tucked in,
And Scholars over my heart.
I remember white shoes,
Those I outgrew, month after month,
Multiple trips to Shoe Mart.

I remember Merit Cards,
Badges, and, Pins,
I remember hating my lack of athletic ability.
Not receiving a medal was a Sin.

I remember teachers who guided me,
Taught me painstakingly to write,
Play hockey, and shake,
With my left hand.
Mentors who coached me,
My own two feet I could rely on and stand.

I remember my lies,
Without reason,
That went from white to black in a moment,
My forgery comparable to treason.

I remember my parents,
Signing my Diary,
Keeping track of my Homework,
Hiding Books,
Much to my chagrin.
But I can’t blame them:
Not when I threw omelets in the bin.

I remember Class Parties,
Field trips, to the Mall, and to the Beach,
And how I could sing,
How my mom made me teach.

And how I cried went I left,
In beige shorts, not red,
Knowing that in every move,
“God Grant Me Kindly Thought”,
I bled.

iii.

My first memories are broken glasses,
A punch, and marks on my neck.
Being called a nerd,
Understanding that my lingo needed to be kept in check.

I recall picking up American slang,
Calling them “zees” not “zeds”,
Going to the tuck-shop, eating Jolly Ranchers,
Having to relearn my Alphabet.

I recall never studying,
My grandmother climbing up stairs:
Only to discover,
That behind my Tricolore:
Lay Harry Potter, and his wonders.

I recall being annoyed with false patriotism,
Discovering my love for the tricolor,
Becoming an Eagle, when I once was a Falcon,
But never soaring, for I only stuttered.

I recall appreciating that I left,
Leaving no trace behind,
Just as I was taught on those “Leadership Camps”,
Where heartbreak on Skype Chats
Destroyed me inside.

iv.

I failed my entrance test,
Of that I am sure.
I knew nothing in Chemistry, or Physics,
And that Math paper was a bore.
But I cried during my interview,
Told Ma’am I wanted to become Head Boy,
Got into 8’B’ a few weeks later,
Welcomed by Orange and Blue,
Some familiar Ahoys.

I started to MUN,
Something inherently fun.
I loved how academic things were, but, also
How much scope there existed for my puns.

I looked like a cat-in-the-hat,
A potato, also, of sorts.
My voice creaked on every alternate syllable,
As I picked up Hindi, this journey I didn’t want to abort.

I met my favourite teachers,
Who later became my second mothers,
Watching me cry,
And consoling me with an Umbrella,
To protect me from my own tears.

I met my best friends,
Who I regret not speaking to anymore,
There was such good banter,
So many memories,
What I loved more was that no individual was branded,
Everyone was a brander.

I loved steering my Falcons,
Doing well on exams,
But nothing compared to the thrill of public speaking,
Holding a Dark Blue flag,
Posting it into the ground, but first,
Onto a stand.

My singlehood reached it’s peak,
My parents are only finding out now,
The mocking continued,
I responded with comments,
Tongue-in-cheek.

I took it slow in my final year,
Tried to hold on to things to take with me,
Soon, I realized that egos were at play,
That tomorrow, I was history.

I became history that never made the textbooks,
Things that went untaught,
My Batch was a step in the ladder,
But our rung, they forgot.

Not just when they painted walls,
Created posters,
Or sent e-mails.
Also when they spoke to us,
As if we were nothing,
But ghosts: haunting them, and pale.

v.

That concludes this piece of poetry,
I do hope you enjoyed,
Be back for some more tomorrow,
Maybe it’ll be filled with more happiness,
Less regret and sorrow.

Let me know what you think!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s