"Lead, kindly Light, amid th'encircling gloom,
lead thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home;
lead thou me on!
Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
the distant scene; one step enough for me."
This beautiful song / hymn was always sung / played at my school farewell dinner, dinners for the passing out batch.
The dinner was an exotic multi-course, British style dinner. Appetizers, white bread, fish, soup, custard and sometimes Ice-cream, the menu had it all.
The dinner was followed by a traditional lighting of candles. The lights at the dining hall would be put out and each member of the staff would light candles held by the students of the passing out batch, who would then move on to light the candles of next batch.
This was when the song would be sung and the young men who traditionally scare the shit out of their juniors, would move around getting their candles lit and light other candles, crying. After all it was seven whole years at a residential school.
And outside the dining hall, in another one of those traditions the students of passing out batch would be tossed up the air, by their favorite juniors. It was my favorite part; I always wanted to be tossed up in the air.
I think I was in tears in my first year at school. Guess it’s the song, or because everyone around you is crying. I soon grew out of it, probably because I was in the choir that sang the song once and soon afterward I was in the school band playing trumpet, we played Lead Kindly Light and Auld Lang Syne repeatedly through the dinner and the ceremony afterward.
It was soon my farewell, I hadn't shed a tear in a long time nor had I helped toss anyone in the air. I was late for the dinner, I had no blazer one me as is the tradition and I had no place in the pool with my friends and had to take one of the normal tables. I sat at the table of my favorite teacher.
When I walked out of the dining hall after the ceremony, almost all of my friends were being tossed up; leaders, sportsmen, geeks, painters, dancers, gymnasts every one of them. For all that I was, I knew I had no favorite juniors but I stood there for a long time, before I decided to walk.
A small boy pushed himself through the crowd towards me, I think I had seen him somewhere, I mean like spoken to him or something, sometime, because I rarely did.
He gave me a small packet and told me I had always been an inspiration to him, he told me I taught him play the Bugle and the trumpet. I did not remember a moment, it had been years. He also told me he and his friends loved watching me talk on the stage. Was he lying? Because I had been like precisely three times on the stage for an oration in all seven years; but believing him made me feel good.
We walked to the where the band was, they were winding up. Almost all of them walked up to me to wish me luck. Though I had forgotten most of the notes, we played Lead kindly light for one last time, with the band.
That night I walked to the hostel with my arm around my new friend.
I think I knew what was it like being tossed up in the air, though it was by just one little boy.
Lost
I was watching one of Frat pack's first movies 'Old school' till 4.00 am in the morning. One of my old school mates called me in the morning at about 8.00 am, of course much to my annoyance.
I was sitting up right in a few seconds, because one of our friends was missing since he left his room drunk and at 3.45am in the morning. I was worried because his girl friend had ditched him recently and he was using my 2 month old bike.
I skipped my bath but not my breakfast to reach the place where these people actually stayed, a single room in one of the most cramped places in the city. You wouldn’t know if it was day or night if you shut the light out inside the 3m X 3m room.
When I reached the place, I noticed that my bike was missing. I and my friend weren’t even sure of where and what to start and we strolled around the mile long beach. Excited tourists, resting locals, noisy children, lovers in various states of ewww, stray dogs, leashed dogs, a leashed monkey they were all there but not my friend, neither my bike.
After scaling the beach road thrice we decided to walk in to a police station to ask for suggestions. The armed old man who stood at the gates wasn’t even sure if we should report to the law and order division or the crime division. A ‘I never smiled in my life’ guy at the crime division almost shouted us to the Law and order division.
A police man, who did not know what a BPO was wanted us to enquire at 2 more stations around the beach line and three general hospitals in the area. He also showed us one guy who had been picked up from the roadside in the morning, thankfully not our friend.
The next station at the northern end of the beach had little to offer, but the police man at the gates wanted to know what we did for living, how much we earned, where we stayed and so much else for I don’t know what. He was visibly jealous at the salary part of the questionnaire, just like I am when I learn one of my classmate's.
The police station at the southern end had bad news, a 35 year old man had been found dead in the morning near the beach. While one policeman blatantly went ahead with the details sending my friend berserk, the other one was trying to shut him up asking him to go slow on it.
I was left to handle the conversation as my friend was totally upset. They did not know the difference between a T-shirt and a shirt; neither did the report filed have any details about the dress found on the body. My friend did not look 35, he wasn’t wearing black pants, he was not fair, but my heart beats were faster.
At the first hospital the parking lot attendant was keen on his 3 rupees and seemed oblivious of our urgency. A bastard at the mortuary was keen on his 20 rupees before we had a look at the mysterious 35 yr old man. We left the hospital in a state of some unexplainable, uncomfortable relief.
After 5 hours we had our food, and our first glass of water.
The second and third hospitals had had 6 deaths and 4 accident cases from the morning and all of them had been identified. For the people at the hospitals they said it like they were talking of just numbers on the inventory, like bottles, syringes or cots.
The time inside the 'trauma and accident ward' was a real trauma, bleeding men, children bandaged all over, blood splattered on most beds, running doctors, indifferent assistants, I almost had bile up my throat but it was over soon.
We finally filed a formal report at the police station where we had started.
I reached home after 9 hours of a very different Sunday and just after a few minutes my lost friend walked in to my house, still sleepy eyed. He had slept at one of our other friends, some one who we did not try to contact for no reason.
I did not know if I was supposed to shout at him or to be angry at myself. I did neither, but at least I did not forget to get the keys of my bike back.
I was sitting up right in a few seconds, because one of our friends was missing since he left his room drunk and at 3.45am in the morning. I was worried because his girl friend had ditched him recently and he was using my 2 month old bike.
I skipped my bath but not my breakfast to reach the place where these people actually stayed, a single room in one of the most cramped places in the city. You wouldn’t know if it was day or night if you shut the light out inside the 3m X 3m room.
When I reached the place, I noticed that my bike was missing. I and my friend weren’t even sure of where and what to start and we strolled around the mile long beach. Excited tourists, resting locals, noisy children, lovers in various states of ewww, stray dogs, leashed dogs, a leashed monkey they were all there but not my friend, neither my bike.
After scaling the beach road thrice we decided to walk in to a police station to ask for suggestions. The armed old man who stood at the gates wasn’t even sure if we should report to the law and order division or the crime division. A ‘I never smiled in my life’ guy at the crime division almost shouted us to the Law and order division.
A police man, who did not know what a BPO was wanted us to enquire at 2 more stations around the beach line and three general hospitals in the area. He also showed us one guy who had been picked up from the roadside in the morning, thankfully not our friend.
The next station at the northern end of the beach had little to offer, but the police man at the gates wanted to know what we did for living, how much we earned, where we stayed and so much else for I don’t know what. He was visibly jealous at the salary part of the questionnaire, just like I am when I learn one of my classmate's.
The police station at the southern end had bad news, a 35 year old man had been found dead in the morning near the beach. While one policeman blatantly went ahead with the details sending my friend berserk, the other one was trying to shut him up asking him to go slow on it.
I was left to handle the conversation as my friend was totally upset. They did not know the difference between a T-shirt and a shirt; neither did the report filed have any details about the dress found on the body. My friend did not look 35, he wasn’t wearing black pants, he was not fair, but my heart beats were faster.
At the first hospital the parking lot attendant was keen on his 3 rupees and seemed oblivious of our urgency. A bastard at the mortuary was keen on his 20 rupees before we had a look at the mysterious 35 yr old man. We left the hospital in a state of some unexplainable, uncomfortable relief.
After 5 hours we had our food, and our first glass of water.
The second and third hospitals had had 6 deaths and 4 accident cases from the morning and all of them had been identified. For the people at the hospitals they said it like they were talking of just numbers on the inventory, like bottles, syringes or cots.
The time inside the 'trauma and accident ward' was a real trauma, bleeding men, children bandaged all over, blood splattered on most beds, running doctors, indifferent assistants, I almost had bile up my throat but it was over soon.
We finally filed a formal report at the police station where we had started.
I reached home after 9 hours of a very different Sunday and just after a few minutes my lost friend walked in to my house, still sleepy eyed. He had slept at one of our other friends, some one who we did not try to contact for no reason.
I did not know if I was supposed to shout at him or to be angry at myself. I did neither, but at least I did not forget to get the keys of my bike back.
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