The old
school tank was a derelict sight. None paid heed to its need for maintainance.
Rusted and old, it leaked all day, making the school rooftop a mess of moss,
scum abundantly thriving.
But to us,
it was a safe haven; especially when it came to bunking boring lectures. We
started hanging around it from our fifth standard, playing cards and marbles.
Slowly the neglected tank became witness to our growing mischiefs: bobbing
teachers with water-filled balloons, smoking the butts of biris left by the
occasional worker, romantic trysts with our “beloved(s)”.
The tank
had been degrading in condition day by day ever since we first chanced upon it,
while searching for a place to hide from our rather strict teachers. And it had
seen us grow from children to young men who could think and act.
Like
society remained indifferent to an individual’s progresses and weaknesses, the
tank sat and watched, waiting for the time it would have to surrender.
--Arpan Kumar Saha
Department of English
UG 1
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