Down
the memory lane to 9c
It’s not always that
Life decides to shower
happiness
So you ought to revel in
it if it does.
For once the bubble is
broken
Never would you gain it
again
Grade 9c was when
My life gave me that
Wonderful opportunity
We were twenty seven
Each with our own baggage
Some family issues, some
social issues,
Some lover boy issues,
some friend issues
Some traumatic, some
manageable
Somehow all had a story to
tell
Yet once entering that
corner, dark class
With only a passage to separate the bathroom
A triple window high up in
the wall and
Dilapidated furniture
We were happy, contended angels
For inside this
uninteresting place was our bliss
Whatever pain in heart
vanishes
Whatever anger that burns
vanquishes
Whatever guilt that eats
us diminishes
And the warmth of 9c
embraces
It’s funny how we were the
Boycotted, worst, stupid,
idiotic and
Best of all the TAMIL
girls.
This glory was the result
of
Rejecting SINHALA as a
second language
None of them knew
That we were the
fun-loving,
Non-jealous, smart, caring
and
CUTE girls (well, some
really were)
The INTERVAL was our
Most beloved period.
The food tasted freely
from
Twenty seven lunch boxes
Lasts till now.
The friendship that we
treasured in her
Holds its value yet.
The fights we fought for
her
Holds its memory tight.
The literary associations,
song practices,
Art competitions, most
desired khailoolah period,
Detested morning assembly
and
The Arabic school song,
that we never got right.
The rumour of Zakir sir
and Husainia miss.
The science lab in BOYS’
SECTION, our IT lab
CCTV in the entrance, that
one cashier from Ilma
All have become monuments
in our minds
We still remember Azra’s
innocence, Ishama and Sameena’s jokes,
Aksha and Humaira’s tragic
love story, Ayesha’s British English,
Kool and Funk Nufla’s
tomfoolery, Hifla’s romantic smile
Hafsa’s scary laugh and
much more
From the endless lot.
Though we teased Miss.
Duck walk, Miss. Eagle eyes,
Miss. Kelavi, we cried
when they left us.
Precious teachers like
Shihara miss, Rizniya miss,
Riznaz miss, Vijitha miss
and
Logamathi miss will never
evade from
Our memories till the end
our breath.
I’m sure though we all
might not get together again
None of us will ever
forget the
Farewell party at my place
where
9c assembled for the last
time or
The life we shared in that
corner gloomy class.
(A part from my life which
I will treasure till the end of my breath)
picture of the classroom isn't 9c but it's relative
Poet: Badurdeen. Fathima.
Ayesha
👏🏼👏🏼
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