Testimonials

Of Scraped Knees, Wooden Floors and Blue Skies

Awanti Agarwala - BMS Class of 1995

I have often wondered what it was about school and the years I spent there that was so special that after almost 2 decades it still invokes such crystal clear images and vivid memories. I don’t have the answer yet and I don’t know if I ever will but I’d like to just pin it on what I believe is a phenomenon that I was privileged to experience called “The Blue Mountain School”. Phenomenon – too strong a word to describe a school you say – that too, a school that almost got wiped out from the face of this planet. Well so be it as it’s not my attempt to make believers out of non-believers.

This is not going to be a narrative on the greatness of BMS or an argument on proving it to be one of the greatest schools that ever was and continues to be. This is just about me and what my BMS years meant to me. For an 11 year old walking into a boarding school full of children of all ages and teachers after a 4 day train journey there can be nothing scarier – right? Wrong – I am not sure what happened but from the moment I walked through the wooden gates of school I felt like I belonged. The crisp cold air, smell of the Cypress hedge and tall Eucalyptus trees, the red mud road leading to the front lawn , white porch and front steps seemed to accept me unconditionally.

I have often said that a large part of who I am today is because of my experience in the crucial formative years of life that I spent in school. And I truly believe it. No doubt the initial draw to the school was the fact that it was too good to be true to a child – a school without exams – how is that even possible? However, Mr. Deb and his faculty of the most amazing teachers had managed to create an environment that encouraged us children to become everything that we possibly could but most importantly “thinking” human beings. A quality that the world today has a dearth of. We didn’t know that then, since we were all so busy being children and growing up. What we did know was that we were part of something special and something different. Every time we interacted with another bunch from another school it became apparent – whether it was a “friendly cricket match” with Rex/Hebron/Lawrence or going for our ICSE Board Exams to Nazareth where we arrived as a truck/trekker-load of scruffy carefree non uniformed students.

BMS, a school, where it was okay that we christened a new teacher openly based on a 5 year old’s comment; where we initiated another teacher into the ways of boarding school kids through a midnight feast and a dancing session after hours atop wash stones; where some of us heard our first ever “non veg” joke from very giggly dorm parents who happened to be alumni; where we polished floors and scrubbed steps; laughed and cried with equal abandon; where we learned the value of a bucket with 2 holes vs. 3 and piping hot water on bath days, snoozes during class under the tree at the far side of the front lawn was not an uncommon sight; where stories came to life and we begged our Cherry Akka to read “just one more page please”……a place where we lived, learned and made friends for life – a place where mistakes weren’t frowned upon and hence, fear of failure was never a part of one’s realm. End of term was always bittersweet and beginning of terms was full of expectations and bright eyed enthusiasm. It was a bubble perhaps that we lived in but a bubble that dared us to be free and doing so prepared us for the world outside of it. I will forever be grateful to this phenomenon that taught me that life is to be lived without regrets, without expectations, without fear but with thought, patience and gratitude. To BMS my Alma Mater, my most treasured memory – may it be the fortune of many more generations to experience your Unconditional Acceptance.

The School of Joy

Kunal Mithril - BMS Class of 1993

Well, BMS had assembly every day (I think except Saturdays, can’t remember that though). And on each day it was a different theme, Wednesdays were music(i think), where Mr. Deb would play some classical music (Beethoven,etc) ( I remember very vividly once Nandita akka played Scott Joplin and my heart jumped with the music, another time it was Ravi Shankar playing some sort of jazz fusion. Even as a 9-10 year old I was stunned into the magic) Anyways, this was the other kind of assembly, where a family group ( F.G) would read out something from either a book, or a newspaper which was of interest either to the individual or perhaps a teacher ( I didn’t read a single book in all my beautiful days in BMS).

So I was given an article to read. And I took it without so much as looking at it. I was first up to read. So I opened the article and found myself staring at words that make KOLMIVAIHEVAIHTOVIRTAKILOWATTITtUNTIMITTARI look common place ( this is a word by the way and it is a common cuss word that does not need translation or so I’m led to believe and I can't pronounce it, but can certainly cuss at it:). Anyways, words such as this (not cuss words, just long ones) floated all over the place. I could not make head or tale of it. The whole assembly hall was silent, of-course it was an uneasy silence, with me moving my lips this way and that trying to gather a single word. When I realized that I could not. I looked straight at our principal, Mr. Deb and said, ‘sir could you please help me out here, and I spelt each and every word that I could not pronounce, and heavens how many there were. This whole process of K stopping even three words and then painstakingly spelling a word out went on for twenty minutes ( our whole assembly time was between 20 and 25 minutes), when I was through, there was a audible relief.

But you know what was beautiful? Really ,really beautiful.

No one laughed, or sniggered or made fun of me. NOT ONE did. Can you imagine that? As I write this I am quite emotional on how beautiful everyone was to me that day.

Truly a school of joy.