on the threshold of leaving school

It was my first day in school. I had two cute pony tails and carried an equally cute bag. My water bottle was hung around my neck. And I was crying. My eyes were red and my nose was running which my dad was repeatedly drying. I clinged on to my mom like a baby monkey, while she was trying to reassure me that the people in the school weren’t cannibals, they won’t eat me up. And then my teacher came. She was way too tall and for me, a giant. But she had a kind smile. My mom entrusted this clinging monkey to her care and deserted me in the maze called ‘school’. I was dumbfounded. My mom simply left me and went away as if I wasn’t really her kid. That was the first day I doubted whether I was adopted.
But then she looked back and I saw that she was worried and I tried to run to her but the giant had a vise-like grip on me. I was captured and I accepted defeat. She led me through the maze. I was lost. And then I entered the cell. It was filled with kids like me, crying. Momentarily I was distracted by the bags, bottles, the ceiling and walls (with my favorite cartoon characters painted on them), the T.V. and yes a huge table and a blackboard. The whole cell was crying in a particular pattern: while we pause for breath, others screamed and while the rest paused for breath, we screamed.
My first day was a blur. But then, the ‘cell’ became a classroom, my-mates-in-crying became my friends, ‘giants’ transformed into teachers and I grew. I leant, had fun.
I had my first real fight in school. The first major injury I got (thanks to my dear friends) was in school. My first and worst failure was in school. And my subsequent successes were in school.
Now, 13 years later, my classroom is my ‘adda’ or my ‘hanging out’ place. The place were I meet my friends, do my homework, get punishments, shout, scream, cry, laugh, enjoy and yes, not to forget, learn. Where I meet with the same kind of species as me, with the same problems and no solutions.
Today as I look forward to my future I see myself entering the gates of an unknown (for me as of now. But of course a famous one. Preferably, IIT, NIIT etc) college. And I never find my parents around me nor my teachers to take care of my on my first day. Instead I find a crowd of half pale-faced, half excited human beings decked out in their best grabs with cool glares, Gucci bags etc. I find no giant with a kind smile to wipe my tears and say, “Don’t cry. You’ll grow to love this place”. Maybe because I would no longer be crying. Or maybe because I would no longer be in the sanctuary called ‘school’.