Bro and I joined boarding school when he was barely four years old and I was going to fourth grade. At the time of joining we were not aware of the situation, joining hostel, confines of four walls, not being able to see parents or friends from hometown whenever we felt like. All that we knew as kids were the new things we got to keep for ourselves and call it ours. Our pillow cases and bed spreads had our name tags on it which is not the same as sharing things at home. Everything was exciting, owning a suitcase, new sets of outfits, many pairs of shoes. Until we got to the day of joining, life was exciting and all our wishes were coming true. Little did we know that the wishes were granted by our parents out of guilt. Our parents were professionals and like most professionals workaholics due to which we had to move to a boarding school in the hills. On the fateful day our parents took us on a three hours drive to a nice looking place with pleasant climate. Unfortunately it turned out to be our school for the next three years. We moved into the hostel and the whole process happened in a jiffy cause there were people to carry our luggage and arrange it in our respective cupboards. The hostel was crowded and noisy with so many people in varying sizes and colors. None of those things frightened us until our mom kissed us on the cheek and dad gave my brother’s hand to me and squeezed it tight. Mom said something about forgetting her purse in the car and going back to get it. Then dad left with her to unlock the car door for her. We were made to sit with some kids and a grown up who was consoling a little gal crying for her parents. Then it struck me (really hard), my parents were not coming back. The faces that we were looking into were all new. The place we were in was new and far from home. I could feel my brother tense and hold onto me like a leech. I wanted to cry but just one thought kept crawling back into my mind. I was the only familiar face in the crowd and if I cried there will be no stopping my bro from feeling helpless. My first responsibility as a child was my brother. I held my brother close and whispered in his ears what the warden had related to the crying gal. “Mom will come by tomorrow to take us home.”

(We are grown ups now but recollecting that incident brings a momentary feeling of helplessness and vulnerability but joining that boarding school at that age could have been the best thing that happened to us)