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The Venue A patch of land the size that would have been barely able to keep a subsistence farmer alive, with dustiness that would have buried any remaining chances, 400-odd us students chose to call school. A bunch of classrooms the kind that would have been comparable to Edmund Hillary's noble effort to educate the Sherpa children in high Tibet, and a playground so small that the only way those interested played was by having activities criss-cross. How cricket and volleyball survived side by side, nobody would ever know! A place that seemed to temper everybody's expectations, and successfully managed to keep most from cribbing (the diehard ones always do, anyways!), probably because they hadnt been exposed to anything better.
One can picturize in the mind's eye a place so rustic and nestled
somewhat peacefully amidst a lush neighborhood, keeping within its
bosom a rancorous and noisy children who chose to, or were forced
to, go through this institution as a foundation for life. That quite
a few of them still have nostalgic memories about it is more a function
of the lack of innocence or carefree abandon in a world outside of
it.
For many of us, it was a world filled with the teacher, and the dreariness of what they taught, full of innocent and not-so-innocent thoughts that were as inane as they were ridiculous. The thatched sheds, more barn-like than classrooms and a courtyard that passed of as a playpen were excused for the benefit that the place gave us - the memories that would be treasured and quickly lost to the ravages of time. 
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