Blank Sheets and Blue Skies

Growing up I hated going to school. Now I’m sure most kids hate going to school, but I didn’t hate school in a hate the learning process, would rather watch cartoons sort of way. I hated it with all the spite that a shy, awkward, eight year old with a bad haircut and a persistently runny nose can muster. Despite the brightly colored classroom and the big huge playground with the jungle gym, school can be a scary place, especially if, try as you might you just cannot remember the eight times table, the day Mrs Gupchup decides to take a tables test, or if you were not asked to be a part of the newly formed ‘Mystery Club’ which disappears very ‘mysteriously’ every lunch break. Or worst of all, Mrs Jalan doesn’t give you the part of Gretel in the school play, even though deep within, you know you deserve it the most.

So as every shy, awkward, eight year old would do, I would kick up a fuss, in my most non-shy, non-awkward, eight year old way, each morning before leaving for school. All in the hope that I could guilt my mother into letting me stay at home ‘just one day’. Every weekday morning consisted of alternating tearful pleas with temper tantrums. Every weekday morning, except Friday. Everything about Friday was different. Mornings didn’t start with the usual guilt trips, the school gates didn’t look nearly as menacing as they ordinarily did, and the brightly colored walls did actually manage to bring some sort of cheer to the otherwise intimidating classroom. Friday’s held infinite promise; they were about blue skies and goblins, picnics and fairies. Friday was the day that Mrs Jalan opened the neatly stacked brown packages while 32 pairs of eager eyes looked on. Friday was ‘kitchen paper’ day. Every Friday morning, Mrs Jalan distributed one blank sheet of recycled paper a.k.a ‘kitchen paper’ to each one of us, to do as we please. Blank sheets of paper are a respite to shy, awkward, eight year olds. Every Friday morning between 9 and 11 a.m. I wasn’t just a shy, awkward, eight year old, I was an astronaut, or a ‘grown up’ or sometimes even Gretel in the school play. ‘Kitchen paper’ was my inspiration.

I’m not eight any more. I’m 24, not shy, not awkward, or atleast I pretend not to be. Blank sheets of paper are a respite to 24 year old risk consultants. They hold the same promise that they did several years ago. Everyone has something that inspires them, the ocean, the sky or the stars. A blank sheet of white paper is my inspiration.