This morning at breakfast I was skimming through the pages of a magazine, this one I look forward to receiving for they also offer the latest list of new books from new authors as well as the established ones.

Between a chockful of ads of various items I came across one announcing back-to-school supplies.

Back to school? It made me laugh out loud.

Poor kids, I thought still chuckling, not even a week into their longed for summer vacation and end of the school year, and what do we have here? Calling on mom and dad to check out back to school deals.

If this isn’t an outrageous attempt to get ahead of the game then I don’t know what is.

But then retail has always followed the beat of their own drum. And, unfortunately, like in the Pied Piper of Hamelin, where retail leads consumers follow.

When my own kids were growing up there was no such hurry to put up back to school deals. We used to head out at the end of August, just before the new school year started in September, to buy school supplies and this was mainly ruled paper, mittens and hats ( during elementary school) for now we had to prepare for winter. Somehow the mittens and hats were always lost or misplaced so they were the biggest purchase in our family. Lunch boxes and backpacks seemed to get a lot of mileage.

Looking back to my own school years, our school semester being January to December, I can’t say that our parents ever had to undergo a mad rush to buy school supplies. On the first day of the new school year we were supplied with a list of books and the exact number of exercise books/notebooks to purchase. We exchanged our books amongst each other, older students passing on theirs to the younger ones and so on, and each subject had two exercise books (if memory holds correct) for homework and classwork. Pencils, pens, eraser were items always available at home so no need to purchase new, geometry boxes were expensive items and had to be taken care of. School uniforms, something that is common among all school students in India, had to be tailored for of course we had grown through the year.

Our tailor had been doing business with our family for years, and suddenly, we found out he had managed to get a contract from our school. His shop would supply new uniforms to the boarders who were from out of town boarding at school during the school year. The tailor had become very busy.

My father knew this tailor well and he respected my father. On a fixed day father told us not to wander off after tea for the tailor was expected. This usually took place in December.

We waited, and waited.

It grew dark.

He hadn’t appeared.

Next evening he hurtled over on his bicycle, we lined up for measurements, he promised to deliver on a fixed date. Needless to say that promise was never kept. After several messages from father our new uniforms would arrive most often on the last day of our winter vacation that was usually around mid-January. According to him he had kept his word. Didn’t the uniforms arrive before school started? Technically he was correct, I suppose.

I have fond memories of those January evenings when we sat around the table with piles of new exercise books. Our school sold to students but father preferred to buy ours from the bookstore that we had been customers of for ages and the owner was well known to father.

There we were, and in front – rolls of brown paper, sheets of labels, a pot of glue, scissors, measuring ruler and a fountain pen. The brown cover and label were mandatory, a good rule, for sticky fingers can wreak havoc. We took pride in our attempts to keep our books in pristine condition – after all, these had to be passed on to the next generation.

How methodically the brown sheets were cut, pressed around the edges to fit just so and voila! yet another notebook covered. Now it was time to label with each having a specific spot for name, class number, subject, with the name of our school on top. Mother helped. I have a sneaking feeling she enjoyed it. Or was she checking our penmanship? Maybe both.

Each of us had a pencil box and even this item was something that could be passed down to siblings – no need to buy new when the old was perfectly alright.

I remember carrying my school books in a red plastic basket. This was called a “love marriage” basket, no idea why it had that specific name, probably originated I Bollywood, but that was the height of fashion during my middle school years and we had to have one. Girls didn’t have backpacks, boys usually carried a satchel slung from the shoulder. Even my brother did, and he walked with this heavy load to school that was situated in the outskirts of town.

I hope kids will have a summer without a care about new stationery, clothes or shoes. If they are allowed to, then maybe parents will, too.

Keep Well…..Keep Smiling

Purabi Das

 

Purabi Das is an emerging writer and poet living in Pickering who finds inspiration for her stories and poems from life in general. To find out more visit Purabi on www.facebook.com/purabisinhadas