Pencils and Promises

I remember my Kinder Garten teacher. "Elizabeth". She was a sweet lady, kind and generous. Always smiling she welcomed the kids with pat on their back or a warm hug as she waved parents good bye.

I still remember my first day at school. Walking with my mom into the basement class, shy and fearful of the new atmosphere. I entered the room and looked at the teacher- a tall lady with a big smile and her thick pink lipstick stood out. After so many years, that shocking pink is still etched in my memories. She welcomed me to the school, hugged me and took me to my desk. She gave me the first pencil and that changed my life. I held that Pencil and promised myself, " I am going to make my parents proud"

Days followed in KG, I sat in the bench close to the window, looking through the checked cement grill that divided the school and the road. That cement structure might have been a just a window to the classroom, but for me it was a window to my future.

Then I remember examinining my pencil. It was the standard red and black looking one..etched "NATRAJ" , not sure if I read that tight. I definitely could read the alphabets. She demanded the promise when she gave me that pencil. Several years later ,every day I remember that promise I made to her..."Be good, behave, be kind and make your parents proud"

That pencil became my proud posession for many years. Sometimes, I would write with it, and feel sad...afraid it would become small and slowly vanish. Keeping my head on the desk and pencil in near sight I would often dreamed..and dream for hours. I wonder what I dreamt, I don't remember any of those dreams, but one thing for sure - I enjoyed dreaming.

I grew up and eventually we started writing by pens. I always felt sad about that. Although other kids around me were excited on graduating to a pen, I was always attached to this pencil. I would often look at it and remember the days with my KG teacher and the stories she read for us. When it became too small to be used, it found a place in a pouch and was safely tucked in one corner of my bookshelf. Every time it met my eye, that was once in a while Nursery rhymes would fill my heart.

This pencil was strangely connected to all the promises I made. Every time I made a promise, I the pencil would catch my eye, kind of reminding me, that I have to keep the promise, like I kept the pencil.


I want to rewind back to those times
as a child when I wrote with my pencil
On the paper, in my book
when life was a journey not a race

I want to rewind to those times
Go back to the fairy tales
draw random sketches with my pencil
make simple promises
That I can keep

Today I still have that pencil,
it is short - but still writes,
can draw the same pictures, bring the same joy
But Life is too complicated and sadly today
Promises are meant to be broken