Traversing my route from place of work to home, is a stretch that leads to the local primary school, it is a distance of a 100 meters.
It is a way everyone in our place had walked to the school, the big tycoons, the neurophysicans across the atlantic or the orthopaedics in the
This afternoon I was just crossing that lane, and I saw the kids leaving school, all hand in hand and dangling their lunch boxes and water bottles and the famous yellow bags of our village, with the slate and books.
My dad used to tell me that he too studied in that school, and those blocks are still there, with the new ones added, with a compound now, and a gate.
It was a plot my grand dad donated and he was well forgotten, to be remembered by his great grand kids now, who have started to do benevolent work, and have got his picture put up in school.
All things great have simple beginnings and like that is this path and this school.