Shades of Grey

This story is selected as Editor’s Choice

The west sky blushes into a deep shade of orange; as if the sun has kissed it goodbye. A light southern breeze cools down the ambiance. The few sparrows in the neighborhood are returning home – the broken plank of wood stuck at a weird angle at the school roof, which created an aperture for the little birds to build a cozy nest which has survived strong winds and rains over the last two years.

It has been over three hours that I’m standing here, outside the classroom, at the open ground. Others of my kind are here too. A few men came earlier today and painted us all in an unrecognizable shade of blue. The bench next to me was painted twice as sparrows had set their feet on the wet paint while the men were away having their lunch. No sparrows perched on me.

I am a bench at some school. Be it the teachers or be it my children (students), both have an eye on me. I am the last bench of my class. You can call me Bestie. A student had once scribbled on me, “Last bench is the best..!” And so, I decided to be who I am, or rather, what I am – ‘Bestie’

I was born at the old carpenter’s shop round the corner, some ten years back. Although my wood is weak, the old man had nailed me well, so that I could stand strong. I was originally painted a shade of grey. And I had been grey for the last ten years until today. But my grey had surely faded, my woods weakened but I have always stood strong, through all times. I couldn’t afford to be weak. The students needed me. I couldn’t afford aging.

I cried today. When I was being painted, I cried.  When all my memories were being erased, when that kid’s handwriting vanished under the blue, when the stories that I had held within me since that long were being given new colors, I cried. My life was being renewed, and all I did was cry. The sparrows knew that. And so none of them perched on me. They didn’t want me to undergo the pain of being painted blue again and again.

I remember being happy . . . back when I was grey. . .

Late Spring, 2001.                         When I became Bestie.

“Page 32. Paragraph two.” Geetanjali, the English teacher shouted at the top of her voice. She had been teaching a chapter on Robinson Crusoe.

Jay, an average looking boy, of medium height, sat on me.

This boy turns skinnier every week, I thought.

He opened his book at page 13, put his head down on my better half – the Desk, and closed his tired eyes.

I feel water. I feel water. Desk whispered to me.

I could feel the boy’s body shaking lightly.

He is crying. Keep on supporting him. I told Desk.

The teacher was busy in her work. The students were busy with theirs, and we – Desk and me, were busy with ours.

After what seemed like ages, Jay raised his head. He cupped his face with his left palm, and began scribbling on me. Amazingly, it didn’t hurt me. I still wonder, why.

The bell rang and everyone hurried home. The class was empty in a matter of seconds. It was a late May afternoon. A young boy had sobbed sitting on me, while I stood silently – the best I could do. I don’t know why he cried…but when people had no time for him, I had, providing him solace. “Last bench is the best”, he had scribbled. And I know what he meant.

This was my spring’s shade of grey.

Early Summer, 2005.                        I experience young love.

The whole class was a fish market. Sometimes, teachers are true too.

In the midst of this fish market, two humans were in friendship.

A sweet looking girl, Anamika and her best friend Aditya – a tall boy, with better features than most of the boys in the class sat on me, fighting. Both were arguing on an extremely serious issue – Whose pet was cuter.

“Coffee is cuter Adi.” said the girl, blinking. Coffee was her guinea pig which she had as a pet.

“Ana, I know better. Momo is cuter. Stop arguing, silly.” Aditya said, blinking furiously, most probably, imitating his best friend. Momo was his Labrador puppy.

For a second they stared hard at each other and then burst out laughing. Ana hit Adi with her right elbow.

“I like you!” said Ana giggling hard.

“One day you shall love me, silly.” Adi thought, while he joined Ana in her giggling fit.

They are in love. Desk whispered to me.

And how do you know that? I asked Desk.

I just know. In the midst of this fish market, two humans are in love Bestie, not in friendship. Desk whispered back. I guess she was right.

This was my summer’s shade of Grey.

Mid Autumn, 2009.         I learn what friendship treasures.

Three idiots – Sabir, Shubham and Nishant sat on me. Geography class was going on. They talked about everything under the sun, except geography.

They cracked jokes about the teachers, imitated them in the craziest way possible, while chuckling and digging into each other’s tiffins. Yes. They ate during class.

“On the bench!” a loud voice echoed the class, silencing everyone, including the three idiots. The teacher had seen them.

“Stand on the bench and hold your ears at once! All three of you!” The teacher in his mid forties demanded.

Sabir , Shubham and Nishant, still chewing and giggling stood on me and hold their ears for the rest of the period.

These guys eat a lot! I thought to myself. But I did bear their weights.

Humans are lucky to have friends. If only they could remember this. I thought to myself.

This was my Autumn’s shade of grey.

Early Winter, 2011.                           When Grey turned Blue.

It is quite unusual or should I say, quite unnatural for something as non living as a bench to be nostalgic. But to think, the only thing predictable about nature or the whole existence is its unpredictability.

I have experienced life on me. I cannot move on my own, but I have experienced movement on me. I have experienced active bunch of kids as well as tired, exhausted kids. I have seen everyone around me grow. I have seen them grow and I have seen them separate their ways. I have seen failures, achievements and has heard laughter and pleasant noise. I have experienced summers and winters, rains and the autumns and springs and everything that the seasons bring along and take away. I have, more or less, lived. And now they try to renew my life. They make me fresh and younger on the outside. But they forgot that my soul is aging; my wood weakening.

It is almost evening now. The grasshoppers in the fields are audible from the school grounds. The men must be on their way to place us back inside the classrooms.  My shades of grey have turned blue. But I think, once a Bestie, always a Bestie.

It is early winter now, when grey turned blue.

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