1st February 2009 - The Scindia School

Dusk & Dawnat AstachalI was always apprehensive of Astachal. An armyof young boys clad in the colour of peace, quietlysitting and viewing the horizon as it got engulfedby darkness. Often Astachal had speakers whospoke on different aspects of life and conduct. Theplacid notes of music that played in this celestialtheatre touched deeper chords of the body, mindand soul. The setting sun retreating into the distanthillocks and the deafening silence drowned all thenoises, triumphs, defeats, happiness and setbacksof the day.Silence can often become insurmountable, hardhittingand troubling as it tends to ask questions.Silence usually unnerves people as it makes oneencounter queries about path, directions, and aimsof life. Silence audits the self and churns the soul.It is endless, bottomless and all encompassing.Every evening we Scindians followed this customof introspection; with the aim to bring out andunderstand what was ignored, lost and buried inthe activities of the day.During my early days in the school as a child atAstachal, I would remember the warm embrace ofmy mother, the protective cover of my father, theplayful faces of my siblings and the same wouldvery often make my eyes go wet. In the privacy ofdusk, silence and stillness provided by Astachal,my sobs and tears would go unnoticed. As I grewand became worldly-wise; I could imagine in thesky, gods and goddesses on the chariot driven bythe sun and I offered my prayers to them. I prayedfor divine support before each exam, before eachdebate and before each elocution. I thanked themfor winning a match, scoring well in exams andbeing applauded in dramatics. Astachal was myrefuge where I often shared my grief with theAlmighty when I failed or when I erred.As I became senior and competitions of life staredme in the face, the silence of Astachal providedmuch sought after relief, peace and solace. Laterthe pressure of board exams and the thought oflosing the insulation provided by the alma materwas unbearable. Each time I failed to strike I foundmyself angry at Astachal. Each day, I grew moreanguished, tormented and restless.I was always intrigued by the show of obeisance toa setting sun. Why should a setting sun be reveredwhen the whole world is chasing rising stars? Arewe losers, accepting defeat by praying to this pale,dying, celestial body? Are we moving from actionto surrender, from victory to defeat from success tofailure and from light to darkness?Soon after passing out we found ourselves as logsof woods pushed in a stream to start the journeysof our lives. Each of us gradually drifted towardsour destination after experiencing our share ofrapids. Some of us moved towards our homesto assist, support and strengthen our parents’endeavours and provided vigour and vitality to thefamily enterprises. Life took some of us to pathsless traveled. We became actors, administrators,authors, artists, soldiers, statesmen and publicrepresentatives. A few went all the way down to themouth of the stream and took a long voyage inthe sea to make a home away from home. Onlysome stood steadfast not dropping their anchors,adventuring, still on move, searching for a niche inthe dark deep fathomless waters of life.Mid-life brings with it a little wisdom arising outof experience and time. The child is now seenmore as the father of man. A dark, dying, helplesssun, starts radiating once again on the other sideof the horizon. The dots bind together to becomelines and lines curve to become a circle. Thecyclic nature of entities and their trajectories getsapparent and paramount. The beginning and theend start merging and become one and the same.Coming back to Astachal after twenty five longyears along with my batch mates was like reversingthe clock. The nostalgia of the experience wasenormous. I could visualise young Subodh, Salman,Sandeep, Donald, Vinayak, Jaideep, Anurag, Dev,Gurmeet and others exploring beyond the limits ofhorizons. We shaped and weaved a bigger dreameach day we sat here. I could also vividly see manyof us playing a directionless game of snakes andladders with our destinies.The past gave birth to present and we were againhere looking at the setting sun, the red statue of theMahatma, the myriad colours of the sky, the hillsand beyond. Silence was hitting with all its forceand glimpses of past started flitting in front of theeyes. As it was a trance where the forgotten desiresand dreams of one’s life, once again become alive.I felt myself fluttering my wings yet again, andattempting to reach the sun and stand betweenhim and the darkness of the night. Someone wassinging ‘Ruk Jana Nahi tu kahi har ke…O rahi,O rahi’. I was once again on the path of achievingthe unaccomplished. Silence was persuading mysoul to rise and move with the sun to a nascentmorning. “Eureka”, I said to myself and slowlyopened my eyes. It was time to awaken and greetthe new Dawn.Atulya MisraIAS(Ex Mj, Batch of 1983)ExpressionsUnlimited…Years have rolled by and every time I sit down tothink about my life a strange feeling grips me. Thesubtle nuances of this majestic place, the Scindiancanvas with its intangible and impossible imagesfills my mind.The overgrown ruins of the Gwalior Fort; the lushgreenery all around; the breaking of the monsoonon this hot rocky soil; the call of the migratorybirds above the sprawling hillock; the brilliantblue of the ‘queen of the birds’ (peacock!) againstthe sun bleached ramparts of the Fort; the murmurand the chirruping of the lesser known birds; thechanting by the Sikhs at the Shabad kirtan in theGurudwara and the early morning march of theyoung beaming Scindians into the Academic blockto begin their day and then out into the open airfor the morning Assembly in the cool breeze underthe azure sky mesmerizes one, beyond what can beexplained through words!I have captured Scindia in the frame of my mind inall possible bits and pieces. Sometimes even morefits in than what the naked eye could see and hold!Each panoramic view, part by part, scrupulouslymaintains its perspective and then all of theseimages put together create a never before seen vistaof the magnificent and monumental Fort.Every morning when I go out for my walk it bringsback some rare, exotic and timeless momentswhich shall live for ever. This place consumes mein a way I could never have imagined. I have fallenrapturously in love with this place. The Fort isstimulating and challenging!One lifetime is inadequate; it will take manylifetimes for the Fort to reveal itself in its full gloryand splendour. None can fully understand thismystical place nor can one completely realize thesublimity and richness of the Scindian soil withits varied and subtle fragrances which lingers on…The sun baked earth when enlivened by thecrystal drops of the much sought after rain onthe Fort is irresistible. The pleasing smell whichenvelops the air and creates an ambience is all butunforgettable.This unique place is an enigma to me. I have notbeen able to fully understand it. It is more like theproverbial Sphinx with all its secrets cloisteredwithin it.Expressions Unlimited…is not just my story butevery Scindians story, wrapped up in crisp layers.When I search within my own soul for a place ofeternity, I find serenity existing in abundance. Inthe personal journey of my life this has been asojourn where I have unraveled the myriad aspectsof this place as they have presented themselves tome.As I pen down my thoughts, quite unplugged, mymind swings back and forth between the timeframe of the eighties when I joined the School tothe present. As I slip down my memory lane I feelfascinated and enchanted with both the unexpecteddiscoveries and the unexplained happenings.One of the reasons why Scindia and the Forthave kept me on my toes and high in spirits isthe richness of the inspiration one gets from thisplace. It’s a true comfort zone for a person like mewhose life and style is so intricately embedded inthis royal place.It’s a haven for a person to be in. An ideal placewhere one can be reposeful as the years glide by.The yesteryears leave behind a treasure house forthe years to come. This place has much to offerus all. Nostalgia looms large. Years have come andyears have gone but the golden moments spenthere on the Fort shall live for ever.Mr. Sanjeevan BoseHOD (Faculty of English and Foreign Languages)Qila Quotes | Alumni Section | 11Qila Quotes | Staff & Parents | 12