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i just HAD to share this! oh god!

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its one of my all time fav dish!
This is something the Pointers will relate to.
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[They say writing can be cathartic. And they are correct. My garbled writing might betray the intensity of my emotions. In any case, this is an abysmally long rant, and the Administrators have every right to dispose of this post.]

I am no longer a student of South Point High School. While the memory of the first day of Nursery I is still fairly fresh in my mind, this sentence obtrudes into my consciousness every now and then, jarring me out of whatever I am doing or thinking—and, almost invariably, I feel my throat constrict.
I think I was crying when I left the school on 31st May 2017. The day I donned the pin-striped uniform for the last time. It was an unusually humid afternoon, and I was perspiring—but I might have been crying as well. Before exiting the Main Building, I cast a numb look at the familiar corridor, the staircase, the classrooms, excruciatingly silent during the Summer Vacation. That was when I felt an icy void somewhere inside me—something my vocabulary cannot suffice to describe. 01-0176 is finally leaving.
I have spent sixteen years as a Pointer. In the year 2000, at the age of three, I crossed the gates of the Blue Building for the first time (if I remember correctly, the Junior school building was painted yellow back then). Introvert and imaginative even as a toddler, I preferred daydreaming to participating in the lessons, much to the chagrin of my parents. My teachers, however, did not discourage me; and by the time I was in Class II, I had started writing my own fairy tales. My world of seven years still had a few rainbows.
Class V gave all of us an inordinate sense of superiority. With the rest of the of the school addressing us as dada/didi and many of us being endowed with the titles of Prefect, Captain, Vice Captain and the likes, we were on the top of the world—quite literally; we didn’t know that a world existed outside South Point School. As we explored our newfound responsibilities, we began to offer a bizarre prayer to the marble idol of Saraswati we had grown to adore. "O Maa Saraswati, please don’t make us successful in the Annuals! We don’t want to go up to High School!" While the teachers’ wishes couldn’t have been farther from ours, I saw our Class Teacher quietly wipe away a tear as we left the classroom with our report cards.
High School ushered in the first whiffs of adolescence—and apprehension regarding the Madhyamik Examinations. South Point was yet to be affiliated to the Central Board of Secondary Education; and to add to our dismay, our curriculum became dominated by texts published by the West Bengal Board. It didn’t help that almost every adult we met greeted us with “Aar ki, Madhyamik to eshei gelo!” Perhaps it was around this time that we began to realise what the word “competition” actually meant!
Class VII and VIII instilled in me the love for English literature, which has thankfully still not deserted me. In VII, we had the best English teacher I’ve ever been taught by. My appallingly poor command of the language would earn me epithets like “idiot” from him; but I will admit I have learnt a vast portion of whatever I know today from him. As Fate would have it, we lost him to cardiac failure in 2012.
I, along with the rest of my batch, passed the Madhyamiks in 2014. Many of our friends left for other schools, and many new students joined our ranks. The teachers became much friendlier, and in the respective streams of our choice we were finally beginning to taste the joys of learning. I was a part of the last batch of Humanities students to appear in the West Bengal Higher Secondary Examinations. Towards the end of the 2015-2016 academic session, our teachers would continually urge us to carry the legacy forward. Being the imbecile that I am, I failed to perceive what they meant by “legacy.”
On 13th February 2016, two days before the commencement of the Higher Secondary Examinations, I was seized by a sudden “nervous breakdown”...and had to be hospitalised. Needless to say, I had to continue another year at South Point—and with the ceaseless support and concern of my school, I wrote the examinations this year, as the only Humanities student from the institution.
On 31st May 2017, in the air-conditioned school reception, Somdatta Aunty handed me my mark sheet and certificate with a radiant smile. It might have been an illusion, but I could see a hint of melancholy in her eyes. 01-0176 was finally leaving.
I might have been crying that day. It was unbearably humid…outside me and inside…
Aratrika Chatterjee
Higher Secondary 2017 (2016)

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Well Valentines day over and I'm still single!! 
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How an ex-Pointer mesmerized us with his guitar.
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