St. Paul's is a place where I spent the better part of 9 years of my life. So when I sit to think about it, I find myself unearthing one memory and triggering off a hundred others. I remember the day I broke my hand in school in class 7 - that in turn triggers off memories of other accidents my friends had - Kaustav, Arnab, Sanjay Rakshit, Satrajit, others. Sanjay Rakshit triggers off memories of Class 4 when I used to sit beside him and still remember him getting caught drawing pictures of nude women! (Mr. Robinson was duly called and poor Rakshit got a good beating for exercising his artistic instincts. Wonder where the guy is, by the way) Anyway - in this introductory article, i want to go back to where it all started - when i entered St. Paul's as a student in Class 2 for the first time.

That is the day I still remember quite vividly even though it was 17 years ago. I was boarded on to the school-bus by my mom - (the bus I would travel in to and from St.Pauls for the next 8 years). I met Samir and Sankhodip in the bus that day. A lot of kids were travelling with their parents but Sankhodip was travelling alone - hence we sat together and became friends. It turned out that we were in the same section - that sort of put the seal on our friendship which was to last till class 4. The bus dropped us off at the gates.

A very strong memory that lingers with me still is an identification with a smell that pervaded the Art & Crafts room in the school. Our class was just beside that - so I always associate my memories of Class 2 with that smell. I can't really define it - it was strong and `sandy' so to say. My seat, as it turned out, was at the rear end of the class - so I had to live with that scent for the year. Debanjan used to sit somewhere close-by. The guy beside me was Deepak Nair, I think. I remember feeling very scared the first day - seeing the rooms - the students and our teacher. (I have forgotten her name - was it Mrs. Lucy?). Some of the guys I met that day were Mammen and Joshua, maybe Sumit Mukherjee, and yeah, Bubul, of course.

I don't remember what we were taught that day. Probably nothing. (I remember we were asked to make paper boats in out Art and Crafts class but that was probably not on that day.) I was feeling forlorn and lost. I think most of the kids felt the same way. What I really really remember with total clarity is coming out of the classroom at 4.10 PM after school, and not finding my way out! That is when I started to cry. I cried and cried - I was bawling away!! Some mothers had come to pick up their kids and asked me what the matter was, but I just kept crying. I must have been really scared ! I stumbled my way out of the school and somehow reached the gates, all dirty and red-eyed. The bus-conductor found me there - they were ready to go and were beginning to get worried. I must have clung to his hand for dear life that day as he took me to the school bus.

That was my first day in St. Paul's. I did then what I did on my last day at St. Paul's - I cried. Those days are now wrapped safely in a cocoon in time and I sometimes go back to them and jump and sift through them and roll and laugh and play and smile.

And sometimes i cry when i can't find my way out and know that the school-bus is soon going to leave ....