The story so far... (1000 Page Views Special) [Part -1]

Being in class XI isn't easy. One has to undergo a test of sheer will and tenacity in order to prove his/her worth to the teachers, students and the nose poking neighbors who always are on the lookout for opportunities to make a gossip out of our desperate grades. The monotonous life goes on and on till the end of the year when the silence of our anxiousness is broken by the cacophony of the final result. At times, it is necessary for us to catch our breath in the race of life. Some do this by playing musical instruments, some play games, others just wander in the streets to see the beauty of this harsh world which revolves around things of common interest. However, nothing! NOTHING beats the nostalgic memories of our childhood that fills us with unparalleled happiness and deep love. Strangely so, it also evokes a pinch of self pity and hurtfulness when the realization that it will never come back, strikes us. Even so, the bitterness of present is always neutralized by the sweet past. When we live the best moments of our lives, we never realize how special it was, only until it becomes the past when we finally realize its value in our lives. The past is just a memory to dissolve in. As a student, I've always been told to study hard and get a good grade, which invokes the memory of my past - The first time I wrote anything. As a 2 year old (I don't remember exactly how old I was!), In Bengal (the eastern region of India), it is a tradition to write our first alphabets in a black slate with a chalk. And what better occasion than Saraswati puja in a hot and moist summer at Kolkata on the year 1999. I distinctly remember the pundit (priest) taking my hand in his and moving it across the slate which drew oddly shaped Bengali letters on it. My crooked handwriting was just the beginning of my journey of knowledge, education and growth.