After spending the day observing at Delhi Public School
Bangalore North, we began preparing for the evening festivities: 12th
standard graduation. We expected the usual procession of students robed in
polyester gowns, caps with duck-tapped messages penned across the mortarboard,
and inspirational speeches instructing fellow peers to “wear sunscreen.”
However, we soon realized we were in for a very different experience when Manju
arrived at our door, armed with a bundle of red and orange cloth to be wrapped,
tied, and slung around Tiffany. Once the sari was assembled and pinned, Manju completed
her work of fashion art with gold jewelry and a red bindi. And, thus, the
precedent for the evening was set.
We felt like Bollywood stars as we walked the red carpet (literally)
- lined with coconut trees dressed in white lights - from the campus guesthouse
to the outdoor auditorium. As we entered the ceremonial space, we became
engulfed by a sea of purple saris (can we say, “Classy graduation attire!?”),
who adorned us with bindis, before ushering us to the VIP section of the auditorium.
We hesitantly took our seats on the wicker couches next to the administrative
staff, convinced our escorts had led us astray.
But, alas, the interior lights dimmed and Manju, taking us
by the hand, led us to the center of the amphitheater, where we – along with
the school management – lit the ceremonial Hindu candles, as two 11th
standard MCs announced our presence as “the honorary guests.” Surrrrrprise!
When the last candle was lit, we breathed a sigh of relief;
we had not, to our knowledge, dishonored or disgraced the tradition. Just as we
were about to take our seats, our attendance was requested on stage for the
distribution of diplomas. Oh!
As the new grads marched across the stage, we shook their
hands and offered them a congratulatory word; they, in turn, accepted
obligingly (most likely thinking, “Who the hell are these people?”).
Once again, a sigh of relief, and, once again, another
surprise, as the MCs announced, “And now Mr. Taylor will deliver a message of
inspiration and motivation.” With a nudge from Tiffany, Taylor – trying to
quickly process the request, while simultaneously composing something
thoughtful and worthwhile to say – took out the green (and empty) notebook from
his shirt pocket and approached the podium. A quick glance back at Tiffany, a
clearing of the throat, and he launched full force: “There are three things I’d
like you all to remember . . .” Despite Tiffany’s initial thought (“Seriously?
Three things? Why not one?”), Taylor managed to string together a message about
embracing learning – the process, the struggle, and the joy. Not bad, t. The
crowd applauded, we took our seats, and our work as honorary guests was
complete . . . or at least until the next morning.
Just as we were packing up our stuff, in preparation for our
early morning departure back to Mysore, two DPS staff members, Deepak and
Mayank, requested us to stop by the school flag pole on our way out for an
“informal gathering” in honor of Republic Day. When we arrived, an aisle of
uniformed men received us; a folded Tiranga was placed in Taylor’s hands, as we
were led to the base of the pole, where we, the Americans, were instructed to
raise the Tiranga. As the flag opened, flowers tumbled from its fold, and the
men broke their positions of salute to embrace each other and sing along to the
national anthem.
And, of course, there were sweets to punctuate the
celebration.
(one more tea stop before the train!)
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