Marching Past

I recently went to my daughters annual day celebrations and was caught up in the excitement which seems to emanate from each of the participants, my young ones included. It took me back to my school days, about which my class mate, whom I met after a long gap of 20 years, just recently, who is also a great fan of my blogs (so he claims), has been constantly egging me to write about.
We were one of the first batches of the school so we were pretty passionate about the school. We were also in the school band, though now I feel embarrassed thinking how silly we would have looked, me clashing the cymbal and my friend, T, blowing the bugle! I used to alternate between the symbol and the flute and then it was a matter of pride for us but now when I think of the sight of me clashing the cymbal, I can’t help but laugh! Then, we were a privileged lot, we the band who always used to bring fame to the school, who had uniforms stitched every alternate year and could escape class hours for practise sessions under the hot sun! It was like a legacy of sorts, which I passed on to my sister, who also went on to become the band leader!
Of course, we had to bear the cost of the uniforms, but then the teachers would remind us, it is only those who are talented who gets chosen. (Talents for cymbal clashing! But I believed her then) So we would go home, implore, explain and then beg for the money which would be handed over after countless objections.
We had constant practises in formations and in March past and from what I could remember, we really used to enjoy all of it! The outings that we had, the competitions that we attended, the church functions, all in the heat and some even had hours of marching and long hours of waiting.
So the next time you see a band performing, don’t laugh it off, ponder on the hours of practice, the amount of money spent and then maybe even imagine me clashing the cymbal…(but I warn you, don’t laugh)