For each one of us, our first school (for some this becomes their only school) is always very special. The memories of our days there are among our first clear memories of any place. Days spent in Kindergarten are those when we just start having some perception of the world and ourselves.
My first school was Cambrian Hall, a beautiful school located in the cantonment area of the Doon valley. It was at this school that I began my schooling and continued for three years. The first three years of my school life were spent in the picturesque environment of Cambrian Hall with its inspirational motto “To Greater Heights”. The two schools which I would study at later also had wonderful mottos. Frank Anthony Public School in Delhi had the profound motto “Courage is Destiny” while Convent of Jesus and Mary,
Dehradun had a direct and motivating motto “Hold High the Torch”.
However, I have a soft corner in my heart for my first school where I walked with tiny steps on the pebbles, stood quietly at the morning assembly, played on the swings, went for small walks with my teachers towards the huge ground in the cantonment, made many a drawing with the lovely crayons and coloured pencils provided to us collectively in a huge cardboard box. It was at Cambrian Hall that I learnt my nursery rhymes, singing them along with my classmates while our wonderful teacher Mrs Rita Hensman played the piano and sang in her lovely, husky voice… “Tommy Thumb, Peter Pointer, Mr longman, Ruby Red and Baby Small (referring to the thumb and four fingers). I can clearly recall the tune she played for this rhyme! The break time would see us queue up to buy a “bun-samosa” from the little canteen. The “bun-samosa” which is such an important part of any Doonite’s life, was first seen by me at my first school.
The teachers were mostly Anglo –Indians and known for their strict discipline. When I went to Frank Anthony from Cambrian Hall, I found that some of our teachers from Cambrian Hall had followed me there. There was a system through which teachers from these two schools could get posted at either. One Mr. Peters was there with us at both schools.
The other day, I went back to visit Cambrian Hall after many, many long years. As I entered its portals, I felt I had re-entered my childhood. In fact, my toddler-hood. The emotions that this visit evoked cannot be easily expressed. The school buses were parked at the same place where they used to be in those days. The pebbles , which were an important part of my memories, were also there. Maybe, there were some pebbles among them which had been there when I was walking in the campus as a little one. This is one campus that has had no drastic changes. I could recall the buildings and the trees , the grounds and the classrooms. And most specially-the sounds and scents of the school. I was enchanted and wondered how some memories, of which I had never been aware for years, emerged from my consciousness and stood before me. It made me realise that though some memories may lie dormant in our minds, they never fade away. Given the right moment, they make their presence felt.
The child in me resurfaced and I found that I had tears in my eyes after a few moments at Cambrian Hall. I remembered how my father, who had his office at ONGC (Tel Bhavan) nearby, would come to look me up in the break time when I had just joined the school. It would become a problem for my teacher to separate me from my father as I would begin crying loudly the moment she tried to do that. Finally, she told my father not to come and see me. That was when the process of growing up began. I was left on my own, at the Kindergarten at Cambrian Hall. However, Bus Number 1, a quaint looking vehicle, used to take us home in the afternoon and soon, home and Cambrian Hall became extensions of each other.
As I left my first school after my visit, I went down memory lane and as I drove back home alone, I longed for my lost childhood with great intensity. For those secure, beautiful days full of warmth and care.
