Walking to School

For me, there are few sights sweeter than that of children walking to school. They are usually clumped together in groups, backpack slung from the shoulder with perhaps a water bottle peeking out, chirping like little sparrows, all at the same time. They are never bored, whispering into a friend's ear one moment, singing aloud the next while acting out Bollywood dance moves, stopping to surround a vendor to buy some snacks, taking off swiftly riding a make-believe motorcycle while gripping an imaginary handlebar. Indeed, their imagination and joy knows no bound.

In rural areas, the bucolic aspect dominates: the kids jumping across a narrow stream one at a time, walking along narrow ails of rice paddies, or soaking merrily in a field during a sudden downpour on the way home. In Dhaka, though many children use private or public transportation to get to school, others walk to school, particularly in old Dhaka and outlying neighbourhoods such as Badda. They, too, enjoy their walk to school in an urban setting.

I once saw a father walking his daughter to school near Farm Gate. She was holding his hand as they chatted about something that obviously interested both, and for an instant her shining eyes were lost in a world that the conversation had evoked. I have seldom seen a happier duo, and the fact that they were both a little chubby somehow made this scene even more beautiful for it told me about the love for food they shared. The world went around them, oblivious to this unfolding magic.

Scenes like this remind us of our own childhood days - days of walking, riding a rickshaw, or driving to school. For many years my walk to school was minimal as we lived across the street from school. So I prolonged it by hanging around the school gate after arriving. Pretty soon a group would gather and our subsequent discussions left no topic on earth unturned. Some years before that when we lived in a different house, I have fond memories of my father driving me to school while talking with me along the way in his gentle, affectionate way - never lecturing, always friendly. Upon reaching school, he would reach into his pocket and fish out two rupees for tiffin, a princely sum at a time when a hamburger and a coke together cost one rupee. One day I was punished with a detention and had to stay for an hour after school. When I emerged, my father was waiting patiently in the deserted parking area, acting as if nothing had happened, no admonishment – or questions - about why I was punished.

In the United States (and other developed countries) the government takes responsibility for transporting children to school by bus. However, those parents who live within walking distance from school prefer to walk their children. American friends have told me this is their favourite part of the day. Having walked my daughter the short distance to her school for a year or two, I concur. Children grow quickly: the magical moments of walking to school are short indeed.

www.facebook.com/tangents.ikabir