//A letter to the streets that took me to my school To the streets that took me to my school, When this letter will find you, wonder will probably strike you hard on forehead. If not for COVID-19, you would have seen a Canon DSLR hanging from my neck snapping anything and everything you house. From our dwelling to the school gate and destinations in-between, I've a vague yet vivid memory of directions. Standing near school's second gate, I rehearsed saying our apartment name: Should I say Grace Elegance or Grace Foundations? All those times when Nithya and I peddled home together, her Moorthy flats' parking welcomed us with nosy uncles and aunts. Not being a good cyclist, I suffered taking turns, crossing roads and managing drainage pipes. But now, as experienced as I am, I'd say no one can foresee the danger 5th Avenue roads have, other than me. I did envy Ebenezer's canteen and Annai Violet's uniform, whenever I went past these schools. I hesitate not leaving school before 4:30, for the smell of these canteen Veg Rolls and Samosas fill the streets to the brim, at 5. Still, being a product of my school is a pride and ecstasy in itself. You were and are a pride to our school, too. For, loads of our products stamp on you and play rock games, mercilessly, still you didn't toy with the directions. I learned to cycle with one hand, on you, so that I can check if I tied my hair with White Ribbons on Mondays and adjust my wristwatch every now and then. How many times have I complained about having residence at the end of the street! I didn't know every extra step equalled to extra learning.
