Dear Gauri

Dear Gauri,

The day you turn six,

You will be dressed in a pink-white chequered frock

Your sleek oiled hair tied in two neat symmetrical plaits.

A pair of white socks and black shoes, a tag to carry your name

The boys scream mean

The nuns in veils unnerving.

But I assure you, sister Anne with the long cane is a loving soul

She keeps chocolates for children in her convent room that smells of cookies and all things Heavenly.

The sweeper lady shouts too loud and brash

Dreaded by the little toads who pee and make tiny pools in the classroom

"Oh you little devil !" she might curse

Don't mind her, she is old and broken with no one to love.

It is here your limbs will grow longer

It is here you will one day find your crisp ironed pinafore stained with red splotches.

Don't fret and don't hide

Go to the infirmary and tell nurse Maria.

It is here you will meet love

You will draw haphazard hearts in the desks

Walk in haze as if in a dream

Smile and cry for no good reason.

And you snap out of it just as quick

So you clutch your best friend and cry through the night.

She will curse him and tell you, you deserve better and trust me dear you do.

It is here you will spend seconds, minutes and hours

Yawning through boring lectures, counting the clock's ticks.

Yet no matter the time you spent

It all seems to not suffice

Because one day you will descend the same stairs you once climbed with your tiny toes, dressed in A little frock with puffed sleeves

To never return again.

It is here dear

You will learn about love, loss, grief, friendship and one day

Letting it all go.

Yet the chalky smell of your class and the feel of the uneven grooves in the desk

Will forever linger in the back of your mind.