Baptism of fire in a boarding school
The year was 1980, when good English-medium schools were few and far between. For my parents, securing admission for me at Bishop Cotton School (BCS), Shimla, was a matter of immense pride. Coming from Hoshiarpur, they dreamt of giving me a lifetime opportunity. For me, studying in a boarding school meant new friends, endless games and countless adventures.
Taking a leap of faith, my parents collected my school-leaving certificate from St Joseph’s School and arrived at BCS, bag and baggage in tow — admission not being guaranteed. Luckily, despite a prominent notice outside the school office declaring ‘No Admissions Till 1984’, I was enrolled. Ironically, 1984 turned out to be my final academic year at BCS.
The challenges began immediately. Conversing in English was a daunting task. My initial responses were simply ‘yes’ or ‘no’.
Conversations with my new peers went like:
“You a new boy?” “Yes.” “Lefroy House?” “No, Curzon.”
My first day on the campus was a whirlwind of experiences. Leaving aside cricket, football, hockey and swimming (to which I had no prior exposure), the only games I indulged in were ‘hide-and-seek’ and ‘ghost ghost’, played around the corridors near the Chapel. The fun had begun.
My first evening ‘prep’ session in a classroom near Chipu’s iconic tuck shop was exciting yet overwhelming. Lining up for dinner in the corridor, with my fancy clothes on, was enough to single me out. I was wearing a brown leather jacket, with a stiff hem, which became the cause of my embarrassment in the dining hall. The hem got tangled with the rim of the plate, which was loaded with aaloo paranthas and raita (Tuesday evening menu) and all this toppled over me.
That was quite a scene, but I was excused. After all, I was a new boy.
Later, I was introduced to the porch dorm. Dormitory games ranged from ‘pillow fights’ to ‘heaps’, but that evening, my dorm mates had organised a catching session. They had made a ball by stuffing socks into one another. Still an observer, I watched until — out of nowhere — a ball hit me. The impact left my plastic spectacles cracked, the frame warped beyond recognition.
I think that was the worst that could have happened. ‘Lights off’ time was drawing near. Fortunately, we had good troubleshooters. A quickfix was arranged and a temporary repair had been done for the day. It was a blessing in disguise, as it gave me an opportunity to visit Shimla (town leave) the next day to get another pair of glasses.
My first day at BCS had been a rollercoaster — awkward, funny and unforgettable. It was the beginning of a journey that would shape my life in ways I couldn’t have imagined.