Ma’am & our School Corridors

We are blue, we are white

We are Ashok Hall, Dynamite

Holding Ma’s hand tight, I took that first step inside the school building that day in 1980. White uniform, red tie, two ponytails and a fast beating heart…I looked back at Ma one last time to wave a bye and stepped into that Institution, a little girl of Class I B. And that marked the first day of what would amount to a life of honest good education, excellent moral values, priceless friends, some awesome teachers and loads and loads of fun and laughter. Memories, which even three decades later, still bring on smiles.

“Junior School”, as we so fondly remember the place, can be summed up in two words – warmth and happiness. Friendship came with ease, we bonded so easily with friends and teachers alike. Breaks were the time to go berserk. Transition from a quiet little girl to a happy, boisterous kid was made possible in this ambience of extreme positivity and fun. And oh what “chatterboxes” we all were! As we went chatter chatter chatter from morning throughout the day, our world became filled with sounds of laughter.

Today as I tell my talkative kid about the way my friends and I would be scolded for “talking in class” or “laughing for no reason”, he would laugh and laugh. Difficult I guess, for him yet to understand how an adult like his Mamma could have been so crazy at a time! And oh my, how can any narrative on school ever be complete without a mention of those grand “impositions’! Write 1000 times “I shall not talk in class”. Back at home, Ma would say “Not again!” and there I would go, pencil in hand, eyes drooping heavy in sleep, dragging pencil on paper, making that not-to-be-kept promise of no talking in class 😀


When I look back today, I wonder…can such beautiful times really be possible? The abundance of happiness, a carefree life and so much camaraderie with friends and teachers. There was no mobile phone back then, no video games and online chats and none of the gizmos kids today need…yet if there was one thing we knew then and know now, there was an abundance of happiness.

And then we progressed to the all-so-important Senior School. The smart blue skirt, the perfect white shirt, those black ballerinas…if uniform knew a level of smartness, that was at Ashok Hall. With a head full of bouncy uncontrollable hair, I would often be chided by my teachers “Come here Gargee” and an attempt to pull back that unruly mane from my forehead into the semblance of a neat style. But alas, that hair knew no bounds, wasn’t the one to settle in anyone’s hands. No clip, no hair pin, no hair band could do justice to that sheer crazy mane!

No writeup on school can ever be complete without a mention of our Ma’am, Mrs. Shobhana Verghese. The lady who taught us to be ladies, how to speak, how to stand, how to address elders, when to bow…the list is endless. And oh God, were we petrified of Ma’am! Like a general stepping unannounced into an army barrack filled with unruly youths, there was this rush to “normalcy and discipline” by us girls in blue and white. It all began with this hushed cry of “Ma’am”. Now this meant a string of instructions:

Here’s Ma’am on her dreaded “round”
Rush, girls, rush…to wherever you are supposed to be now
Sit down and appear you are engrossed in the pages of your books
Be quiet, above all else
Look like ladies…try!

Like a pack of headless chicken running helter skelter a moment back and cuckooing in glee, we would rush in a breath and sit in designated places, heads buried in books, pens in hand, a sober look on our faces, pretending to be the most studious bunch that ever was! So finally when Ma’am made her silent, yet terrifying walk past our wide open class window, casting that supremely dignified look across the class and the mere mortals seated, we would literally hold our breath, our hearts beating fast, eyes fixed on some letters which made zero sense. And I bet now, when Ma’am’s saree could be seen past the window and past our class door, there would be a cumulative let out of breath in the air…silently saying “yes class, we made it this time”.

Even today, with close to three decades of leaving school, there are umpteen times when I thank myself for having a mentor like Ma’am, for instilling in us the essence of good behaviour, courtesy, gracious stance and above all respect for all. Values unparalleled across time.

And then there was Spectrum, that culmination of perfection in every move. A perfection attained over months, depicting the meticulous standards which Ashok Hall forever stood for. Those months had us tanned, standing in the sun a good part of the day, practising those perfect moves. Spectrum taught us for perhaps the first time in our lives the meaning of team work. But was that super fun! Minimal studies and days of fun in the sun, tiffin breaks outside class and endless banter. Teachers weren’t just subject teachers in those months. Each of them was an astute representative and worshipper of perfection. And we girls drew all our enthusiasm from them in marching ahead and doing quite the impossible!

We friends across sections would meet before long summer breaks to exchange books. Each of us would go home armed with no less than maybe 5-7 books, fervently waiting to gobble up each story. And of course, there were these “books not quite meant for our age”, which drew the most attention ☺ So the lucky ones who had read those before we did would remember to tell us the page numbers “which we must read”!! The innocent joy in the lives of class VI or class VII girls in reading books meant for “bigger girls” knew no bound! Such were the simple joys in our lives. Independence in going for movies and lunch were limited to special occasions, there was no scope of any late night chat, or for that matter late night meets, yet not for once did we ever feel inadequate. Not for once did we feel we weren’t being given “enough”. This ‘enough’ to us were easy relationships, bonhomie with friends, their parents, maybe their cousins too, bonds with some teachers and the urge to don the blue and white and go to school the next morning.

Life was wholesome back in school. There was joy in simplicity. School gave us the pure oxygen and the dollop of life quotient to pull us through all troubles. Even today, talk of school fills our heart with pride, happiness and perhaps tears of joy at the life that was!

Gargee Ghose (Gargee Ray)
Batch of 92 – Class XII