The Boy I Meet Sometimes
The Boy I Meet Sometimes
My inner child and I meet at times. We stumble into each other; or we just plan to meet. Occasionally, the boy is in a white shirt, a navy blue tie with its black elastic band tucked under the shirt’s collar; navy blue shorts, black shoes from Bata and always a couple of teeth missing.
Then, Presentation comes alive - not the one of 2026; but the original one - wrapped in bougainvillea; brown earth; trees and an expanse of green as one walks past the convent and climbs down the stairs.
There is a feeling to that place. It is integral to my being. The word nowadays is vibe.
A few moments pop up - clearly.
– – – –
Kindergarten
The only day I ran faster than Abdul Razak and won the 25m sprint. The running race equation since? One hundred to one; in favour of Razak.
The day Sister Alberta got me to pronounce horse. Halls? Hoarse? Hose? No. Horse. Horse. Horse. We got there eventually. Amma came to pick me up a few minutes later; and it was “horse, horse, horse’ all the way home.
The day Kamalechi helped me out when I threw up having milk from my flask. Since then, it has never been milk by itself. Only milky tea, as young as a 5 year old. Lactose intolerance was not known then. Kamalechi held my hand and walked me to a green tap; and washed my mouth. She wore a large bangle.
Anil P, Dheeraj and I walking with our respective elders till Shanti Nagar Colony, and then splitting ways to our homes. The elders talked amongst them; and we blew bubbles from the little drops that come out of a touch-me-not stem. It was a skill perfected by a select few.
First standard
Getting on first in Driver Balettan’s school bus route. Siting there all the way till Vivek was picked up from Parayanjeri. From Third Standard onward, walking was cooler, except for the luxurious few days my uncle would drop me in his scooter. Balettan had slickly combed hair and always waited for me to get seated before moving on.
Walking in a straight line, with fingers on our lips to Chandra Talkies, Chevayoor. I still would not know why we had to see Oppol, such a sad movie. The school tried to make up for it years later with The Beautiful People, at Blue Diamond - but that did not compensate.
Second standard
With more words in my vocabulary, I learnt that Ms Sumithra’s “Pippippuray” actually meant Hip Hip Hooray. I was doing it wrong for 2 years.
Miss Liji showed how to insert commas into big numbers with five or six zeros in them.
The rain on the first day of school - seeping through shoes and clothes, only to find resistance from the Duckback school bags. The new notebooks from PK Brothers were bone dry, opened with a crackle and smelled great, despite the rains.
Third standard
I sat next to Monish, the school student artist for the water colouring competition. He created magic. There was a mansion at the foot of a hill, a bouquet of roses and even a child in his picture. I looked at mine. It was a river that turned black because, when all colours are mixed, black inevitably takes over.
The 4 x 100 relay on Sports Day and the anticipation when the runners turned the bend around the convent. I never ran. Abdul Razak, Biju MV, Ajay Alex or Bijoy Alex won - every time. I ran fast once - for lemon and spoon - and learned a good lesson.
Fourth standard
The perakkamaram where the cool boys hung out, which included me. This was the watch tower. We big boys kept an eye on our younger siblings, that included my brother. The peekkirees were big enough to attend school.
Leaving home to school earlier, so that I can see a few overs of the Benson and Hedges World Cricket Championship at Praveen Balachandran’s house. He had colour TV and the matches were played in Australia. There were white birds in the cricket ground.
Recognition that I could write a bit. Ms Preetha announced. Second prize in Short Story Writing at the Youth Festival. First time.
A home next door to school used to serve vegetable biriyani every Friday - for 2 rupees. Heaven. With small cubes of fried bread.
The excursion trip to Koolimad by Sister Rose Mary. We practised songs to sing on the bus. Awesome day. Possibly the first time ever a girl student spoke to me - pretty, shoulder-length hair and sparkling eyes - and er.. I was not sure how to maintain that conversation. I guess I fled.
– – – –
On my trips to Kozhikode, I invariably drive past the school - and a milestone or a home or a shop brings back fond memories.
For those who I went to school with from LKG to fifth standard; we simply pick up conversations as if they were paused by a semicolon.
I never bid good-bye to Presentation. In the summer holidays of fifth standard, Silver Hills happened. I don't think I want to say good-bye.
Thank you for the care, Presentation. It is an honour to write for you.
—---------------------------------------------
Ashok Radhakrishnan and 673017 go back a long way.
Ashok Radhakrishnan, 1991 Batch