THE stately church spire of Christ Church School that dramatically rose out of the dense, surrounding foliage drew me to it inexorably. A closer look revealed low, buff-coloured school buildings edged with bright green lines nestling cosily alongside the grand Gothic architectural marvel of 1878.

It was the magical summer of 1964. I was a scalawag standard 10 student in pedigreed St Francis High School in Lucknow; a city known for its pehle aap refinement in language and deportment. My newly acquired friend Abbas Qezilbash and I had just returned from a state basketball tour on the Isle of Serendip, Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). We had a girls’ team with players from spiffy Loreto Convent/Isabella Thoburn College and a men’s team, where Abbas and I were the only boy players among grown-up men. He was from Sainik School/La Martiniere. On a whim, both of us jumped ship, joining Christ Church. With no scholastic achievements, I recall how surprised and delighted I felt when the stern, black-gowned principal, Rev Theodore Tiwari, announced in assembly that we had been selected to represent UP in the Bombay nationals.

I recall Reverend Tiwari’s no-nonsense English classes, and Headmistress A Vashishth’s heels as she tirelessly patrolled corridors, maintaining discipline and teaching standards. We feared and respected her, but could still catch her twinkling eyes. I recall the moving pre-Senior Cambridge exam church ceremony to wish us well, and also, the infectious joy when it was announced that the school had become a college.

After clearing ‘Intermediate’, I joined Lucknow University in BA (Arts) in 1967, leaving in 1968, after being selected for the Army. Call it providence, but Abbas followed me six months later, joining my company, with I, good-naturedly, ragging him on arrival as his senior. He later joined my Cavalry Regiment. We remained friends but later military destiny took over. Years later, I heard of his untimely demise. Life has its own cadence and we can’t claim we fully comprehend its ebb and flow…

Long after my retirement, in 2015, I got in touch with Mr RK Chattree, the college principal. My offer of a motivational talk at my alma mater was accepted, with a request that I be the chief guest at the college sports day.

It was homecoming of a moving kind. I walked down the same corridors I had once treaded with trepidation as a 16 year old; entered a classroom I had once feared. The children who heard me learned a bit about my recall of a great school and what lay ahead of them in seeking excellence.

The next day, I was transported on sepia memory; privileged to bless children whose names I proudly read out as Reverend Tiwari had once read out our names for sporting achievements 50 years ago.