The Window To Your Soul

I studied in a convent. Not a convent in the dictionary sense, because of its long name, it was called convent for the ease of the tongue and convenience. It was and still the best school in my town. It had everything, including a religious flavour which meant prayers were a part of daily life.

We woke up with a prayer. We sat through a ' deity waking prayer' ( I mean Suprabhatam). We prayed before school began. We prayed before we ate our meals. We closed the classes with a prayer. We prayed for a good long one hour with devotional songs ( Bhajans) in the evening. Prayed before dinner. Prayed before we got into bed and then the next day the cycle repeats.

No complaints whatsoever. I know why we sang those hymns. One so that our day starts well. The other to ask the Goddess or learning to help us, simpletons, to understand the nuances of Maths, Science, Social studies, Hindi etc. Thank God for the meals we eat ( the food was excellent, so rest assured we didn't have to pray to get through the meal). Prayer before sleeping was thanks to God for getting us through the day.

Prayers were the interwoven part of our lives. It was just like breathing. You don't stop breathing, you don't stop praying.

But there was this one particular prayer time that to date baffles me as to what was the relevance of that. It was a disguised punishment. Corporal punishment camouflaged as 'Self Awareness' technique. A facade to filling up a prayer-free hour. It was a masquerade. Pure deception. A brilliant but deceitful ploy.

Why? Why? Why and How can you make a bunch of toddlers who are either exhausted or still sprightly sit in a semi-dark hall and meditate before going to bed? We were stuffed. Stuffed with the lessons of the day. Stuffed with a scrumptious dinner. Stuffed with a whole lot of energy to play/ maybe no energy to play. Stuffed with ideas for ' pillow talk'. Stuffed with gossip. Stuffed with a lot of things in our minds which definitely was not prayer.

And boy! Our teachers were just very creative.

INSTANCE 1

We were all made to sit in the prayer hall, semi-lit only by a few lamps. A sophomoric monotone would be drilling your ears as you fight off sleep/ inability to sit still. This one particular night, during one such session, our teacher said ' If you are truly meditating and are a blessed soul, you will be rotating in your place as you meditate'. No sooner had she completed her sentence, there was a weird sound. The sound of slicked flesh getting dragged across the floor Thanks to pools of sweat generated by the fanless environment.  Even as we were all squinting in the dark, trying to find the source of the sound, beholden the wondrous sight!!!

My friend was rotating in her spot. Perhaps, unhindered by the resistance of the floor and the friction of her thighs, she would have been definitely spinning like a top!!!

Least said, the miracle was cut short and we were sent to bed.

 

INSTANCE 2

Tonight, we were made to sit in the quadrangle between the dormitories.  The unescapable sophomoric monotone continued to drill the ears as you fight off sleep/ inability to sit still. In this scenario, we had to wait for a tap on our heads. A tap on your head by the teacher meant that you could go to bed.

Ironically those who sat straight and steady were tapped off to bed while those who unable to resist the monotone and doze were left untapped. They would finally kneel over, sleeping on the floor.

CALLOUS. UNTAPPED. COLD.

INSTANCE 3

Like I said, prayer was the way of our lives. After the class prayer, we are usually greeted with a 'Good morning children' which meant we could open our eyes, and wish her the same. This particular day, the Good morning didn't come even after quite a while. As we continued sitting with closed eyes and folded palms, this teacher went around pulling down the lower eyelids and belting out percentages. 30%! 60%! 80%! 20%!

When the whole class was done, the Good morning children came. Even as we were quizzing ourselves and each other about our assigned percentages, she announced to the class ' Do you know what those percentages imply? It is the percentage of how much you love God. I have the powers to determine that by looking at your eyes. Now how many got 20-50%?'

To talk of ' the eyes are the windows of one's soul'!!!

DON'T ASK ME WHAT WAS MY PERCENTAGE. Yes, I still remember it to this day. Not something you would forget so easily. I am scarred for life I say!!