HOME- IN HOSTEL AT 15

A quirk of fate landed me as a boarder in the hostels of the same school where I had studied as a day scholar for the last four years. My father got a much awaited promotion and with it a transfer order to Barrackpore in West Bengal and he had to leave in January to join at his new place of posting. My mother and sister also followed him in April after my sister cleared her class fifth in March 2011. Since I was studying in class IX and was promoted to class X, it was not possible for me to follow them as my registration for Class X was already over and a break at this stage would have cost me a year. As a result I had to shift to the hostel of the same school- Bishop Westcott Boy’s School. Though it was assuring that I had the same set of friends and the same school environment to adjust to, the thought of shifting for the first time from the cozy environs of home to a hostel nevertheless made me thoughtful. More so since the hostel warden Ms. Kensworth was known to be a strict disciplinarian and a strict task master. My friends had faced her wrath at one time or the other during their stay in hostel either for their lazy attitude (of getting up late in morning) or for keeping their belongings in a disheveled manner or for playing pranks without caring for the hour of the day. Ms. Kensworth was a stout lady in her sixties who spoke Queen’s English with fluency but maintained a strict exterior and did not hesitate to cane even senior students for their folly. Students dreaded her and called her ‘canny nanny’, as she carried a cane with her everywhere. Her personality was so overbearing that even the naughtiest of student did not dare open his mouth before her. Hence I was a bit apprehensive since, when one is in company of school mates even a disciplined student takes the liberty to play pranks and enjoy the output of such mischief. I was a bit apprehensive also because as a day scholar I was considered a disciplined boy and teachers in school had great expectations from me. Till now I had been able to keep that image intact during the limited hours in school as day scholar but to keep it that way throughout the day and night as boarder was quite tasking job in hand. On 4th April 2011, when my school re-opened after session break I went to school on the first day with a deep thought about planning my stay at hostel for the next one year. In fact the thought of staying in hostel was much more overbearing than that of cracking the Class X ICSE Board examination the next year. My friends were eager to know when I was shifting to hostel. I told them that it may be possible in a day or two. Hence when one of my friends approached me to inform that he had seen my parent in school campus after the school was over I was taken by surprise. Instead of boarding my school bus I went back to the auditorium which was still crowded by students after the assembly. I saw my parent there. My mummy informed me that they have come prepared with all my belongings and that I shall be shifting to the hostel that day itself since the quarters have already been vacated by them, their household goods have already been loaded on truck and ready to be ferried to Barrackpore and that they themselves have shifted to the institute’s guest house. This was indeed news for me. All my plan of doing this or that before shifting to hostel went haywire and I followed them to the hostel. We reached the dormitory on the third floor with my luggage which consisted of a huge aluminum trunk, a hold-all with bedding and a bag containing other miscellaneous items. We met the staff warden Mr. Solanki, who was given the nickname ‘kaju’, for the reason not known to me. He showed me my trunk cum bed which was to be my resting place in the dormitory. My mummy hurriedly arranged my bed, kept all my books in the locker below the bed and also arranged my clothes in another locker beneath the bed on the other side. She went around inspecting the bath, the toilet and the dining hall and then after assuring herself they left, leaving me behind. My father gave me lot of earthy advices on how to tackle and carry myself in hostel. By this time my friends who had been in the dining hall for evening snack and tea were back. They were very pleased to see me. I was invited by one of them to his birthday party in the school canteen ‘The Witches Brew” scheduled for evening 8 o’clock, for which they had taken permission from the senior staff Mr. Robert Walsh. But before that we all went to the Basket Ball Court for the evening roll call. I was informed that this is a daily exercise to ensure that any boarder has not slipped out of the hostel. Thereafter we went to the study hall where I spent the next two hours in studying mathematics and in also helping my friends with their problems in the subject. From there we all went straight to the “Witches Brew” to enjoy the birthday party. The party was over by 9.00 o’clock and I returned with my friends to the dormitory. All the hectic activities of the last six-seven hours had kept me engaged and I was surprised that I had not missed my parent during these hours. However, as I retired to my bed for sleep, reading a novel, switching on the night lamp attached to my cot, I could not but remember the love and affection of my mother who took all care for my food and other requirement. As I lay in my bed remembering the cozy environs of home sweet home, I could not stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I was unable to concentrate on novel as my mind raced to my home with all the fond memories of years spent with my parent and my little sister. I slumped into sleep thereafter. My sleep was broken by touch of soft hands on my forehead which was gently playing with my curls in the same manner as my mother used to pat me at home. I was surprised to see Ms. Kensworth at my bedside stroking my hair and gently patting my forehead. I was enjoying every moment of this love and affection and did not open my eyes lest she may once again become the ‘canny nanny’ for which she was notorious for in hostel. After couple of minutes, she switched off the bed-lamp and moved ahead. When I went home during the summer holiday my mother asked me whether I was still frightened of Ms. Kensworth. I replied in negativity. ‘Rather she has a heart of gold through which pours the love of a mother. She takes a round at night, every night without fail, to see that her each and every ‘child’ is in sound sleep and takes care of a student who, she finds in a disturbed state of mind’- I informed my mother. It was then my mother informed me that, on the day she had sent me off to hostel, she had broken into tears while climbing down the stairs. Ms. Kensworth happened to meet my mother on the stairs. She consoled my mother and assured her that she would take all care of her son, as does a mother. I realized that Ms. Kensworth was alike a mother for all the boarders, still in their formative years, who lived in hostel away from the love and affection of their mother. I concluded that her cane was only a ploy of her ‘carrot and stick policy’ which every parent employ to keep their offspring on the right track.