Tribute

What follows is my speech, delivered at the year-end farewell at school. Edited, of course. The original is too long and too boring. I wonder how everyone managed to stay awake while I delivered it.

It's pretty weird, standing up here. Three years ago I definitely wouldn't have even thought of speaking in front of so many people.

Speaking of, er, public speaking reminds me of one of my favourite quotes of all-time, courtesy Jerry Seinfeld. According to a study, the fear of public speaking is the most common in people. The second is death. Now that really doesn't make sense, does it? Because THAT means that, at a funeral, most people would be better off in the casket than doing the eulogy.

Well, I'm standing here, claiming that my talent is speaking. Truth be told, I don't think that I would have thought that I could speak if not for this school. Our school.

Wow! It feels really good to say that. Our school. It also feels quite weird for me to say that, because this is the last time I can claim a school to be mine. 

And I've made quite a lot of such claims. Vidya Mandir is, in fact, my tenth school. That's right. Ten. And the funny thing is, when I look back, I realise that I have studied in schools for all kinds of time intervals - all the way from three years to three weeks. Yeah, one school did have that honour. They had me for just three weeks. And all I have to show for that little stint is an entire shelf of notebooks they dumped on me when I joined. Seriously. There's a huge pile of pink notebooks they gave me. It's very annoying.

What's also pretty annoying is having to leave. Actually, it's more than annoying - it's heartbreaking, depressing, and makes me feel pretty awful inside. And having to do it nine times before this isn't an advantage in any way. It actually makes it worse, knowing that I've spent such a short time here.

Three years ago, I walked into this school. As always when joining a new school, I was nervous. So nervous that I walked right with my good friend into his classroom. Which was the wrong one, by the way. I sat down and, almost immediately, the bell rang and everybody left for assembly. That felt really awkward.

I'm saying this because I think a lot has changed since that day. New friends, new teachers. All of them - no, sorry - all of YOU, I want to thank. And there's not enough I can say that will, er, be enough. I did think about thanking all of you for five minutes, but I guessed that at the end of it all, you guys would thank me profusely when I walk off stage.

Unfortunately, I have a lot to regret. It's been too short a journey - almost like a visit. Three years is nowhere near enough time to get to know all of you. It's caused hasty judgments, harsh words, and a general feeling of unpleasantness. And now, to put it in more familiar words, "I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

It's okay - I still haven't figured out whether it's a compliment or an insult. And if you know, shut up and let others think for themselves.

At any rate, it's confusing. And I was this confused when writing this speech. Because emotions and feelings like this are just too difficult to put on paper. And even when some words were written on the page....suffice it to say that tears smudge ink.

Anyways, the speech has been written and I'm here, taking this opportunity to speak for the last time in the school that helped me speak for the first time. If I hadn't been here, in this school, I wouldn't be here, on this stage.

I saw this is an opportunity to thank all of you. I know I've said this before, but I simply have to say it again, simply because you all mean so much to me.

I also saw this as an opportunity to share the experience of leaving school. Leaving teachers, leaving friends. I've left quite a lot of them behind, most recent of which were my sixth-grade companions. And in my mind, they remained as sixth-grade kids (except the teachers, of course), nothing more; almost like characters from a half-remembered dream.

But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that friends don't leave. And if you want to find them, you can. The best part is, it happened to me. A few days back, I joined Twitter. And those sixth-grade kids I was talking about, they were there too (although no longer sixth graders, of course). It's great to see how much they've changed, and greater still to see that they remember me.

And that created a feeling that gives me the conviction that, until we so decide it, our friends will not leave us. Nobody's going away, and we're all going to stay in touch.

Well, to be honest, I don't have a proper ending for this speech. But I think that's okay. Because I see today not as an ending, but a new beginning.

Okay, I know that that is a cliche. But let's face it, Ravi Shastri uses them all the time and he's still around, isn't he? Cliches work, I guess.

And with that, I believe I have come to the end of what, I hope, was not a cliched speech.

Thank you. Very much.