Chronicles of Soup Time

Ankit S | EAVP 5

Photo by Aumjyoti S

They say that there is calm before a storm. Well, never has this phrase been more accurate than when it comes to our 15-minute break in the middle of our school’s morning session; or, in our ashram lingo: Soup Time!

While working in the reference library during the second period, I always look out onto the lawn. If peace were a picture, it would be what I see every day, at 9:25. The tranquil breeze flows through every tree’s foliage. Dragonflies dance in the air. Small, pale-yellow butterflies flap their tiny wings and fly around before gently landing on delicate flowers. The stage is recovering after a dance recital the previous night, earning well-deserved rest. If you are attentive, you can catch squirrels having their own fun time, running after one another. I take a deep breath to prepare myself for what is to come.

All of a sudden, my peaceful bubble is burst by the sight of one of the amma’s walking out with the bell. I close my eyes, knowing what comes next. The slow but resounding ding of the bell is heard in every corner of the building. I wish I could keep my eyes shut forever, but I reluctantly open them. The peaceful scenery has now become one of pure chaos! All hell has broken loose, as the once calm veranda is now bustling with activity, and full of the children’s chatter and laughter.

From every side, hoards of kids pour out of the stairways and onto the lawn. Everyone rushes first to the stage, each eyeing what Rajesh-Da has put out for us children to munch on. Some take their share, being considerate and leaving something for others. Then, some shy away, not happy with the selection that has been put today. They will all stay hungry until their preferred choice of fruit is put onto those round steel plates. They might have to wait days, or even weeks until they become a part of the crowd that empties those grey plates. And finally come the hungry children, who selfishly take more than they must. They all try to find clever ways of going unnoticed: some use their innocent friends as shields, while others secretly grab two pieces instead of one right under Bala bhai’s nose. These students are normally surrounded by those not quick enough, begging the others for a piece of cheese.

If we look just beyond the frenzy near the stage, we see teachers and students holding their cups of soup. This is a good time for teachers to catch up with one another and take a breather before they have to go back and try and control us rowdy children. Although year by year the number of kids who enjoy soup shrinks, it is an important part of school life. If you haven’t already figured it out yet, this is where the name “Soup Time” comes from.

While all of school bustles with the chit-chat of young minds, the lawn turns into a mini playground for the youngest children. The children of Progrès and Accéléré, with their seemingly unlimited source of energy, run around the lawn, playing games with rules only they understand. To the rest of school, it seems like random running and jumping, but, through the glimmering youthful eyes of the kids, we see them analysing and predicting each of their friend's moves, looking for the best way to emerge victorious. I sit where I am, reminiscing about the times when we were the little ones running around.

While the younglings enjoy life in their playful folly, the older students catch their breath on the galleries. Countless little groups gather and discuss whatever little titbits of their lives. We can find those complaining about the previous day’s football match, with blaming the referees being some students’ favourites. Those who did not play laugh at the expense of those who believe the game is more important than their own lives. Elsewhere, on the other side of the dull granite steps, we hear students sharing homework answers. It is astonishing how something as rational as mathematics leads to such diverse answers from our school's very own aspiring mathematicians. The galleries are also where all plans are made. After all, students are extremely busy people! Those who have a programme practise that night decide when and where to meet up, while those who are free discuss how they intend to kill time; homework always seems to be their last option. And then you have those who plan their night outs, all wanting to get away from the confinements of their homes and enjoy a fun night with friends out in Lake.

I look again to the corner, and between the swarm of thirsty children who seek to quench their thirst, I see the amma walking out again, holding that same bronze disk and wooden mallet. These fifteen minutes always feel like an hour. Seven strikes in quick succession signal the end of soup time. All students, most reluctantly, leave their conversations and head towards their classroom, ready for another two periods of gruelling work.

Within no time, the scene reverts to the way it was. The only movement is that of the swaying trees and butterflies. The atmosphere dies down, the energetic fervour is replaced by one of calm and quiet. I pack up my books and take one last look at the lawn. I sigh, knowing that I will have to go through this process all over again the very next day. Until then, however, I smile and soak in all the silence. I walk out of Reference Library, go past the now silent galleries, and head towards my next class.

Photo by Aumjyoti S