I finally found some time today to update my blog. Whenever I make it a point(in my head) that I have to be regular, more regular than I have been, I somehow fall slack and then resurface after what seems like eons.
Oh my God, I am such a drama!!! 🙂
Anyway, since some time now, I wanted to write about change. Why? Umm, no reason.
Change. Our school had a weird rule, when we were in primary. We would have just one teacher teaching us almost all the subjects. Almost all. So whenever the class teacher would be absent, that particular class would be split into equal groups and accommodated in other class rooms for that day or for the period the teacher was absent.
I would dread it!! Like absolutely dread it. I hated it. Okay, the cincher now, I would cry. Yes sir, yours truly would have tears brimming in the eyes, huge salty drops which would wobble down and threaten to embarrass me. I would feel horrible, and also feel that it was doomsday. One of the main reasons for that would be I would be separated from my friends for that entire period. I would mope around the whole day with a face so long; it would probably drag on the floor.
Then there was the first day of school. Every year when school would resume after the long summer break, Dad would drop me off at school, and the minute dad would turn around, my heart broke and I would almost be in tears, I would not cry, but on the verge. Of course this was when I was in the 6th standard; I really outgrew this stuff later.
I grew out of it in the eighth standard (*grins sheepishly) after an incident which shook me to the very core. Class eighth had 5 divisions, which meant 5 classes of standard 8 kids. The school decided to do away with 5 and consolidate it to 4 classrooms. All hell broke loose, when instead of shaking everyone up (the school decided to traumatize only 65 of us, rather than upsetting the entire bunch of 240 plus kids), only my class was divided into 4 groups, each for one class. My best “chuddy-buddy” of 5 years, Pallavi and me were separated in this. She went to one class and me to the other. Oh heck, it was so chaotic for us, that even our parents, my dad, and her mum went to school to meet the principal, to ensure the school rectified their error and not separates us two.
The principal gave them an earful about letting the children grow and learn to meet new friends, thus rendering us separate. It was bad, but when I turn back now, it all seems so silly to me. I mean it was just a matter of 8 hours that we would be in different classes. We would go back home together, go to the same tuition classes, and talk on the phone. But to that tiny little brain of mine, then it seemed so huge.
I never adapted to change well. I mean I would adapt eventually, but it would seem forever for me that I would take to adjust to it. Initially I would revolt, be stubborn about it, put my foot down, be obstinate and refuse the change, but in due course, it would all grow on me and then I would flow as easy.
The standard 8 incident had a huge impact on me. I mean it made me think so hard. I made so many new friends, so did Pallavi. Where I had felt that I would not live long to see through the 8th standard, I lead a healthy school life till the 10th standard, making new friends and having loads of fun with my new mates.
Many changes occurred as time passed. School led to junior college, other new friends, getting attracted to the male variety of humans, heart breaks, love, break ups, losing friends, losing family members, ups, downs, graduations, births, deaths, marriages, birthday parties, sangeet ceremonies etc etc ( these incidents are combined: my family/my friends and with me).
As the years passed, I have realized one thing. That I have met so many people, made so many friends, fell in love, got married, and left my home country to live in a foreign country. So many new beginnings, so many milestones, but the only constant thing was this—> CHANGE. In capital letters as, because of change I have learnt. I have lived, I have seen, I have felt, I have understood so much, because of change.
Take it straight from the horses’ mouth. Try as much to revolt against change. It doesn’t work. You fall flat, flat on your face, with nothing but scars to show that you revolted, in vain. But go with the flow, and it works like magic. What seemed like a battlefield before becomes a playground. The world feels right, the chaos ceases. And yes, the walk may be difficult, but at least you walk forth on your own terms, not because you felt enslaved to something that you did not like. Okay, now it may sound gibberish, as I am warming up to this topic now. So will leave it at this, and believe you me, I have learnt it the hard way, the only way one doesn’t forget. Just remember:
CHANGE IS THE ONLY CONSTANT!!!!!
And I will sign off with one of my favorite songs. Thank you, Bryan Adams.