The Kindergarten Adventure

By Sindhu Manoj

My earliest memories of school were its day one itself which probably was an equally memorable one to both my head mistress Ms Stokoe and to my dad as well. Such was the impact that my screaming and screeching had left that day. 

Until I got to school, I was a happy, go lucky, over pampered brat, without doubt. Dad was the hero, just as for any daughter. And if you’re the first born, you’re the Angel, the apple of every one’s eye. My parents & I certainly enjoyed this period; until my sister was born. Then my parents turned into referees and we, the players. 

This kindergarten adventure, however, happened before my sister was born. My parents had decided to send me to school earlier than usual even as I was just three. My mom had found a teaching job and so my going to school would keep me engaged for at least a part of the day, they thought. So here I was, in the William Richard’s Anglo-Indian Nursery School which was a huge English style villa converted to feel like a kindergarten with just 4 class rooms and very few yet very sweet and caring staff. My school had no school bus and hence dad dropped me every morning. The school got over by midday. So, my dad had to pick me during his office lunch break driving all the way from his office in BEML to the school in the Champion Reef area, which was in the gold mines area. This was the only possible arrangement then. So after school, I used to wait at the gate alongside the watch man, until Dad arrived to take me back home on his awesome, green and white Lambretta scooter. I used to stand in the front throughout enjoying the ride from school to home. 

I certainly was, apart from a spoiled brat, a very talkative child. I never left a chance to converse with anyone who gave me the slightest attention. So, until my dad arrived, the watchman was my companion. He conversed much with me like a grandpa during the, sometimes long waits. I’m sure he must have got bored over the days. Some days he sat on a chair as I stood in the sun clinging on to the huge iron gates locked up, to be opened only when dad arrived. On some other days the watchman asked me why dad was late. I did have a reply to everything - My father worked in a busy machine shop and he was taking care of huge machines. So, he could be really busy, which was true after all! 

On one such day, as I waited next to the locked gates, the watchman uncle kept looking on to his watch seemingly irritated having to remain waiting. My dad hadn’t arrived yet and it was past lunch time. As I had nothing to do, I held on to the gate bars, poking my face out through trying to look as far as possible for my dad’s arrival signs. Nothing happened. The watchman was now rather impatient and I could sense it. He kept checking with me and swearing in low voice when I replied no to his queries. After some more time, he came next to me and opened the gates to step out and look out. The place was generally deserted after school time and only a vehicle or two passed by occasionally. As time passed by, my legs ached and I found a stone bench right outside the gate and sat there, the watchman holding my belongings stood nearby looking towards the road waiting to hand me over as soon as Dad arrived. He had packed his belongings as well as it was a Saturday noon and everyone, including the teaching and non-teaching staff had left. My Dad didn’t come still. I was sad, and also concerned that I was keeping the watchman waiting as well. 

As I sat there, I saw a couple of men cycling. They were looking at me and one of them smiled at me. Although sad and worried, I smiled back. The guys moved ahead and stopped after a few yards away. They then returned towards me, again smiling like they knew me since long. My generally good memory had no copies of these two faces. But they asked me if I was waiting for my dad. I noded thinking as to whether I knew them after all ! I was not sure. Nevertheless, I said yes. Then they told me that they knew my dad and they too worked in BEML in the same hanger. They said that my father could be late due to the month end work load. To my added surprise they offered o drop me home on their bicycle. 

The watchman was listening; visibly irritated knowing that my father could be further late. The two young men told him and me in a very convincing tone that they knew me, where I lived and my dad, whose name and designation they told correctly, very well.

They added that my father was their boss and once again offered to drop me home, this time telling the watchman that it was a waste of time waiting further as my dad would be late due to month end production. After a lot of talking, the watch man and one of the guys asked me if I would be willing to be dropped home sooner on their bicycle or wait further. Somehow, they convinced me into joining them and I found myself seated on a tiny seat on the bar of the bicycle of one of the duos. As we rode off, I was a bit scared as well as worried about my dad. Beyond that I was hungry. It was so long past my lunch time back home.

The cyclists rode in parallel. They were going on the familiar route which I was aware. They tried striking a conversation with me. But probably my worry and tiredness had taken over that I was answering them with a yes or no alone. As we rode, we reached the main gates of the gold mines. There were speed breakers here. So, the guys got off the cycles and pushed the cycle, with me still seated, over the speed breaker hump. They were going to start off again which was when I heard a familiar noise. To my surprise, my dad was just driving past over the speed breaker as well. I’m not sure, from where I got the energy, I shouted aloud to the cycling guys - thats my dad, thats my dad, Daddy, Daddy. aloud and clear until my dad turned to look back from his scooter which was now ahead. He soon parked the vehicle aside and came rushing towards me. He definitely looked angry. Very very angry. 

He first picked me off the bicycle before the guy hopped on. Then Dad asked the men in a polite yet stern tone as to where they were taking me and why. The guys, visibly nervous, were trying to explain that they knew him and stated that even they worked in the same machine shop. However, my dad denied it all. He was in a fit of rage now, shouting at them. A few passersby had stopped and tried to involve. My father told them that these two unknown guys had picked me up from school without my dad’s consent and were taking me somewhere. The guys however repeatedly kept saying that they were bringing me home only. The crowd took my dad’s side and together started a verbal war mid-road. They told the guys that they better apologise to my dad or that the police station wasn’t very far away. Soon I found the guys desperately apologising to my dad. However, they held on to the statement that they meant no harm whatsoever and was genuinely trying to help me reach home. They also told repeatedly that they knew and have worked with my dad. No matter what, my dad soon put me on the scooter and started off towards home thanking the crowd that helped and supported. On our way back, he asked me why I had joined those unknown guys and advised me that I should never ever go with a stranger, no matter how late it gets. He also told me that had he not arrived just on time to see the watchman leave the school locking the gates, he would’ve missed him and left clueless. He was shocked knowing that someone unknown to him had already picked me, goodness alone knew what would have happened had the watchman showed him the directions. He told me about kidnappers and thieves who could fool kids like this. He was very angry with the watchman as well and told him clearly that his carelessness would be reported. 

The watchman was probably the most relieved man, when he saw me at school next. I heard him converse with my dad that afternoon and deeply apologise for his careless attitude and promised him to take care of me until I was picked from school.

I continued to be the careless, spoiled brat. 

Well, they say that if we do not learn from our mistakes, we’re bound to repeat them. 

And so, I had more such bigger adventures waiting for me. Wait till I went to the convent school after kindergarten!

By Sindhu Manoj