The Irony of It All

  Sliding back time a score plus, heading to school was more than just a routine—it was a necessary evil. Tons of books, and a loaded school bag; I felt more like a laborer than a kid. To top it all, a school uniform. I mean, we were kids; we longed to be attired in pretty, colorful dresses, and not in some darn uniform like we were in the army or something.

             Now that I'm through cribbing, I realize that the only thing I clearly recall are the uniforms of the different schools I've attended. My favorite being that of Barnes School, Devlali—Maharashtra. The girls wore navy blue divided skirts (one inch above the knee), white half-sleeved shirts, a blue and white striped belt with the school emblem etched on it, and a blue and white striped tie to match the belt. Footwear was black shoes with laces, and socks; oh, they were darn particular about that. The socks had to be long enough just to cover the ankles; anything besides, added up being a stocking. On official meetings, we wore gray skirts with full sleeved shirts; the rest remained unchanged. The boys' uniforms, nothing to brag about—gray trousers, white shirts, belts, ties. Sigh! Those were the days!

             Clambering to the present, and done with school and college, now working, it's a whole different ball game. Sometimes, I even wish that I'd studied a bit harder and a bit longer even, 'cause  it's all coming back to me now in bits and pieces. I'm being avenged for! I can almost picture this pitiful headmistress pointing her hate-wand at me and going, "I told you so!" But then, life unfolds when it needs to. 

            Coming back to what I was saying, just to rattle that memory; we were discussing some of the aches and pains of the education system—books, uniforms. Most of us work for a living, and not a day goes by when we haven't faced the trauma of decision-making—what the heck am I going to wear to office today! Some are more organized than others; they know exactly what not to wear. They even match their inner and outer wears, they take the trouble of ironing the previous day. All they go to do is slip and slide into one. 

            Then there are some like me, who do not believe in the above; we just wake up, open that cupboard and whatever drops down first, that it shall be. Decision made! The same is ironed if the user thinks it necessary. And then just slip into it. There! The deed for that day is done. To save me and the likes of me this dreadful regime, I wish we wore uniforms to work, saves time and money. Kind of reminds me, we don't realize the pleasures we have when they are around; it dawns on us once they are gone, be it uniforms or casuals.
           The above was a wish, but I'm glad time has changed for the better in more ways than I could pearl together. I quite fancy my life—I live each moment, and I'm grateful.          
                                                                             

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” 
― Albert Einstein