My Pre-School

I dreamt once again that I was back at school.I couldn’t study well for the exam and moreover I got up late and was really running behind. This is one of my recurring dreams which always wakes me up in cold sweat only to heave a sigh of relief when I realize it was only a nightmare.
I wish instead of this scary one, if only I had dreams about the beautiful times I had with my friends.
My very first memory of school is the smell of warm milk which my teacher used to pour out from the flask that we had to carry from home .How I hated that smell and even now I dislike milk. As a pre-schooler I detested school. My bus stop was a tailoring shop, ran by an old man who was a communist. He used to allow me to go through his boxes of pamphlets with the symbol of scythe, hammer and a star and I remember taking bunches of them along with me. My bus driver had a tough time every day since I used to hide behind the boxes and he had to carry a kicking and screaming me and place me inside the bus.
My teachers were all Anglo-Indians and they trained us in the western culture .My best friend was Finny ,a boy who loved to grow his hair really long .Our class teacher Loretta miss once tied his hair with rubber band since he refused to get his hair cut. His granny and mine were friends and I used to tell everyone who would listen, that he was my cousin. I learned my first steps of ball-room dancing at school with Finny as my partner. I left my alma-mater; St Mary’s R.E.M.H.S for an year and later rejoined as a fifth-grader. Same year Finny left school and I have no idea regarding his whereabouts till date.
It is so weird and wonderful how certain memories refuse to go away .I can still see myself as a child in a blue pinafore before the flask of milk and walking up the stairs with Finny holding my hand ,the two memories of my Pre-school that remains still vivid .