Part One: Anticipation and Rumors – Whispers of Adventure
Years ago, back in my fourth-grade English class, our teacher was deep into her lesson while the kids in the back whispered eagerly about the upcoming picnic. It was a yearly thing at our school, but unlike other events, this one wasn’t free. Every student had to pay to join in. As I sat there, my thoughts drifted, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the school made money from these picnics.
No teacher had popped into our class to spill the beans about where we were headed for this year’s picnic. However, rumors flew fast, and we heard we were off to a water park. The leak came from a teacher who was related to the principal. What’s intriguing is that our principal also owned the school. It was her son who let slip the news, and soon enough, every student knew we were heading to a water park for our picnic.
In our school, most of us were from middle-class families, and Indian middle-class families are usually known for being careful with money. I also came from a family with modest means, and my grandmother, Dadi, was the epitome of thriftiness. She was an extraordinary woman—smart, diligent, and incredibly mindful of her expenses. I think her life experiences and challenges molded her frugal habits.
As every boy in my class eagerly asked if I was going to the picnic, one of my friends urged me to join them, promising a lot of fun. I really wanted to go, but I wasn’t sure if my family would allow it. So, I stayed quiet and just listened to their requests. After school ended, I headed back home, where my mother instructed me to change out of my school uniform, wash up because lunch was ready. I followed her instructions and retreated to my room. I turned on the TV and quickly dug into my meal. Suddenly, I mustered the courage to ask my mother for money so I could go on the picnic. Sadly, she told me she didn’t have the money and suggested that I ask my father or grandmother since they had the means.
I didn’t ask my father because I knew he would say no, regardless of whether he had the money or not. He believed I was too young to go to a water park. And as for my grandmother, I didn’t bother asking her either because she was even stricter than my father. She would have given me ten reasons why I shouldn’t go.
The next day at school, my friends and the other boys were once again deep in discussion about the picnic. They had some new information to share, saying that before heading to the water park, we would first visit a biscuit factory. They were thrilled about the prospect of biscuits and a factory tour. Suddenly, a teacher entered our classroom and confirmed all the rumors about the picnic. She said the fee would be 400 rupees and we had one week to pay up. After that, no more payments would be accepted. I felt a surge of fear knowing we had only one week to gather the money. I was filled with sadness because I didn’t think I could ask my family for permission and gather the funds in such a short time.
Part Two: Preparation and Excitement – Countdown to the Water Park
After school, I returned home and once again pleaded with my mother for 400 rupees for the picnic. She continued to refuse, but I persisted, asking over and over again. Frustration bubbled inside me, and I even refused to eat. Later that night, my mother prepared my favorite dish, Rajma Chawal, hoping to lift my spirits. Rajma Chawal has been my favorite ever since. Despite her efforts, I remained stubborn and sat in front of the TV, sulking. Then, unexpectedly, my mother approached me again and urged me to eat. She promised she would provide the money for the picnic soon. Overwhelmed with happiness, I nearly shed tears of joy. I eagerly devoured the delicious Rajma Chawal, feeling grateful and excited about the prospect of going on the picnic with my friends.
The very next morning, my mother handed me 400 rupees for the picnic, along with an extra 10 rupees for the canteen. I believe she took the money from her savings, which she kept for moments like this. For breakfast, I had a bread butter sandwich and a glass of milk with Bournvita, my typical morning meal. After breakfast, I headed to school. After the morning prayer, as we returned to our classroom, I handed the picnic fee to the teacher, who added my name to the list of students going. I felt a surge of joy, and the other boys were thrilled to know I’d be joining them. Every day at school, we eagerly gossiped about the fun activities we’d enjoy at the water park.
On the day of the picnic, our class teacher gathered us in the classroom. When the bell rang, she instructed those who paid for the picnic to stand up, and we followed her to the school grounds. There, they announced which class would board which bus. Each bus had a red number sign on a white background. Our teacher led us outside where the buses were waiting. She pointed to the bus with the number 4 sign and reminded us to always board that bus, no matter what. We all responded with a chorus of “Yes, Ma’am,” which is a bit funny, but that’s what we call our teachers here.
We all boarded the bus, and I noticed there were students from other classes along with their teachers. On our bus, there were two female teachers and one male teacher. I felt a bit nervous about the male teacher because I had heard he was strict and punished naughty kids severely. Since I was one of the mischievous ones in my class, I was a bit wary of him.
Soon, they started handing out snacks on the bus. We each got an apple, a small bottle of fruit juice, and a warm, fresh samosa. They encouraged us to eat. I saved my apple for later and enjoyed the samosa along with the fruity mango-based drink they gave us. It was really tasty, and I think some of you may have heard of the brand Fruity.
Once everyone was on board, the buses set off, forming a caravan-like procession, just like camels in the desert.
I chose to sit by the window because I wanted to see what was outside as we made our way to our destinations. As mentioned earlier, our first stop was the biscuit factory, which happened to be the Parle factory. Parle is a significant company in my country, known for its popular Parle-G brand biscuits, with ‘G’ standing for Glucose. These biscuits are among the most consumed in the world, if my information is accurate. After the biscuit factory tour, we would head to our final destination, the water park. Now, let’s get back to the story.
Part Three: The Biscuit Factory – Inside the Parle Factory
I sat by the window, watching the cars on the road, the trees, and people going about their daily lives. I’ve always been more of an introvert, a trait that stuck with me since my school days. As a result, I didn’t talk much with my fellow passengers on the bus.
Our journey on the road stretched on for over two hours before we finally reached the Parle biscuit factory. Our teacher reminded us not to wander off without supervision and stressed the importance of staying close to our classmates and her at all times. She also reminded us to remember our bus number, which was 4.
We eagerly agreed to comply with her instructions, and our buses slowly entered the parking area of the Parle factory. Stepping off the bus, I was mesmerized by the sight of the enormous Parle biscuit factory. It was a remarkable moment for me, as I had never seen such an industrial marvel before. Even after all these years, I have not had the opportunity to visit a biscuit factory or any other type of manufacturing facility.
I still vividly recall passing by a YKK factory on our way to the Parle factory. It was only later, after some days, while watching a science channel, that I learned that YKK is the largest manufacturer of zippers in the world.
Allow me to continue the story. As a young schoolboy, the sight of the colossal Parle factory filled me with awe. Soon after our arrival, a representative from the factory approached our teachers. While the sun beat down relentlessly, some of us sought shade under a nearby tree.
After a brief exchange, the factory representative headed back inside, with our teachers trailing behind. They called out to their respective students, and we obediently lined up, following them into the factory.
As we entered the factory, I found myself in the middle of the line. Stepping inside, I was greeted by a bustling scene of workers operating machines and managing the conveyor belt area. It felt like something out of a Discovery Channel documentary. Walking through different sections of the factory, I observed a variety of machines, although I can’t recall their specific functions. However, I distinctly remember seeing two machines—one appeared to be involved in mixing something, while the other was a packing machine. I had the opportunity to explore almost every part of the factory and witness the production of various types of biscuits.
As we wrapped up our visit to the Parle factory, the same gentleman who had first engaged with our teachers began handing out biscuit packets to each student. When it was my turn, I received one packet, which I carefully tucked into my pocket. Passing by another Parle employee distributing biscuits, he noticed me and assumed I hadn’t received a packet. With a friendly smile, he handed me an additional packet of biscuits, bringing me immense joy.
Upon returning to our buses, I noticed that the seat I had chosen earlier had been taken by a boy known for his bullying tendencies. Given his reputation for aggression, I decided not to confront him. Instead, I found an empty seat at the back of the bus and settled in there.
As our bus resumed its journey towards the water park, I couldn’t contain my excitement at the prospect of exploring and riding the water slides. Unable to see what lay ahead on the road, I shifted my focus to observing my classmates and the other students aboard the bus.
On our bus, there were some students from the 6th or 7th standard, and I couldn’t help but notice one boy striking up a conversation with a really pretty girl. It seemed like he was trying to impress her, and judging from her laughter, it appeared to be working. Meanwhile, many of my classmates were engrossed in munching on snacks they had brought along. Some even had bags filled with extra underwear, t-shirts, and more snacks. Unfortunately, the girl I liked from my class didn’t join us for the water park picnic. However, her cousin brother, who was also in my class, was on the bus with us.
Feeling a bit bored without the window to gaze out of, I reached for one of the two packets of biscuits I had and tore open the packaging. As I started munching on the biscuits, I found them quite enjoyable. A boy noticed that I had two packets of biscuits in my hands, one of which I was eating, and he wasn’t a friend of mine. He asked where I got the extra packet, but I didn’t want to share the story of how I acquired it.
With a somewhat menacing tone, he said, “Tell me, or I’ll report to the teacher that you have two packets of biscuits.” I responded firmly, “Report whoever you want; I’m not telling you anything.”
Without hesitation, the boy exclaimed to the teacher that I had two packets of biscuits. The teacher approached me, initially with anger, suspecting that I might have taken someone else’s biscuits without their knowledge. When I explained how I obtained the two packets, she seemed disappointed but couldn’t take any action against me since I hadn’t committed any wrongdoing. The boy who reported me commented, “Oh, so that’s how you got two packets of biscuits.” Then, he asked if I could give him my second packet, to which I firmly replied, “Absolutely not.”
I continued, pointing out that he had his own biscuit packet, but he claimed he had already eaten it. I questioned why I should give mine to him, and he proposed a deal: he’d give me money in exchange for the biscuits. After some thought, I reckoned it wasn’t a bad deal, and I could use the money later to buy a mango or orange popsicle. So, I agreed to the deal but insisted that I needed the money upfront. He handed me 5 rupees, and I promptly gave him the biscuit packet. He wasted no time in enjoying his newfound snack.
I never really liked that boy, but I did appreciate the small business deal we had on the bus, which, looking back, was kind of funny.
After finishing my biscuits, I started observing everyone on the bus. Occasionally, I glanced out at the traffic outside. I couldn’t be certain how many buses were in our convoy, but I believe there were at least four. I noticed other buses overtaking ours, and neither I nor the other students onboard liked it. However, when our bus managed to overtake another, we erupted in joyous shouts. This happened a few times, and then, after a while, we finally reached our destination.
Part Four: Water Park and Unexpected Events – Joy, Spins, and Splash
I noticed that some buses were already in the parking area, and students were disembarking, waiting at the entrance to enter the water cum amusement park one by one. I watched this scene unfold from the rear windshield of our bus.
After our bus came to a stop, the teachers onboard directed us to exit and head towards the entrance of the water cum amusement park.
So, we all began to step off the bus, and that lovely girl I mentioned earlier was just ahead of me. The teacher then asked us to line up, and once again, the same charming girl was right in front of me. The boy who had been trying to impress her on the bus was a bit farther away but kept chatting with her and her friend. He was quite persistent, to say the least.
I noticed that they were putting bands on the wrists of every student, and these bands turned out to be our tickets. When it was my turn, they fastened the band around my hand, and I was allowed to enter the water park.
The park was a mix of attractions, not your typical water park, but it did have plenty of water-themed rides and slides. I noticed a pendulum swing ride that swung over a pool-like area, creating splashes each time it descended and touched the water. There were also giant water slides, but I was too young to go on them because they were deemed too risky for kids.
We, my classmates and I, followed our class teacher as she led us to the more kid-friendly rides and play areas. It was a vast hall with sunlight streaming in through glass windows and an open door. There didn’t appear to be any artificial lighting, yet everything was well-lit, and the vibrant colors were quite visible.
There was a net-like structure hanging just above the ground, accessible via stairs. You could climb up and jump on it; it wiggled and shook with every move, making it loads of fun. Many boys were playing on this net-like structure. Nearby, there was a large balloon-like structure you could slide down, and it wiggled too. Then, there was a play area filled with colorful balls where you could dive in and have a good time. I thoroughly enjoyed it all.
The last activity we did at the kids’ playing area was playing dodgeball, and we had a blast in that area. Then our teacher informed us that it was time to head outside for another fun adventure. Once again, we formed a line, a familiar routine by now, and other children stopped what they were doing to join us. As we stepped outside, the weather suddenly changed, becoming cloudy and rainy.
Our class teacher, after securing permission from the other teachers, including the principal, informed us that she would be taking us to a spinning ride, ensuring it was safe and suitable for us.It was strange because when we first arrived at the kids’ playing area, the sun was shining, and it had remained sunny while we were playing. However, the weather turned overcast as soon as we headed for the spinning ride. We stopped near a spinning ride situated above a pool, the one our teacher had deemed safe and fun. Before we could begin enjoying the ride, the seventh or eighth-grade classroom teacher arrived and informed our class teacher that it was time for lunch. She instructed our class to take us to the food court area.
Before we could reach the spinning ride, another teacher arrived and announced that it was time for lunch. We felt disappointed by the timing. It was already 2-3 pm, and we had to leave the water park before 5 pm, as our parents were picking us up from school at 7 pm. I felt a sense of sadness, thinking we might miss out on the chance to experience that spinning attraction.
We made our way to the food court area, where our teacher arranged the food for us to dig in. As everyone rushed to grab their favorite dishes, I paused for a moment, surveying the options before me. The aroma of freshly baked naan and the tempting sight of paneer caught my attention, prompting me to add a generous serving to my plate. The meal was satisfying, and the overcast sky hinted at the chance of rain.
After finishing my meal, I noticed some of my older classmates indulging in cold drinks, so I decided to join them. There was a crate brimming with assorted beverages, offering a refreshing array of choices. Opting for a black cola-type soft drink, I savored the cool refreshment as I lingered in the area, waiting for my teacher to finish her conversation with a colleague. Once they wrapped up, I, along with my classmates and teacher, set off toward the eagerly anticipated ride.
As we reached the spinning ride, I couldn’t help but daydream about the thrill of it. There were two rides side by side, both situated above a pool-like surface. One of the rides resembled a spinning wheel, with seat areas that looked like cups or something similar (though I wasn’t entirely sure). It promised a lot of excitement.
Once again, we lined up, and I found myself at the very end of the second line, a position I didn’t particularly enjoy. Our teacher began sending batches of students to the two rides, and I couldn’t help but feel impatient as I waited my turn for the spinning ride. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, it was my turn to experience the spinning ride for the very first time.
A helpful attendant was there, responsible for ensuring that all the kids were securely seated and that each seat was properly secured. He assisted me as I settled into the spiral ride seat. The ride started off slowly, gradually picking up speed. I was filled with excitement, thoroughly enjoying the experience. But then, I started feeling something odd in my stomach—a strange but oddly enjoyable sensation.
As the ride began to slow down and eventually came to a complete stop, the same attendant assisted us in getting out of our seats. I watched as he helped the other kids exit the ride, but there were still a few of us, myself included, who needed assistance to unlock the seat safety or help us off the ride. Frustration gnawed at me as he seemed to overlook our need for assistance.
Growing more and more impatient, I decided to take action. After a few tries, I managed to unlock the safety belt holding me in. I stood up and tried to get off the ride by myself. I called out for the attendant’s help, but he didn’t hear me. Feeling frustrated and determined, I took a chance and tried to get out of the ride on my own. But as I tried to leave, I slipped and fell into the pool.
For a moment, everything went dark. When I came to, I found myself underwater, surrounded by cloudy water that made it hard to see. Not knowing what might be lurking below, I froze in fear. With no swimming skills, panic gripped me, keeping me still. It felt like I was sinking deeper into darkness, almost facing death itself. It seemed like something was pulling me down, an experience that I can still vividly recall.
All of a sudden, darkness enveloped me, and I couldn’t tell if I was still breathing. Meanwhile, my teacher, counting the students, noticed my absence and grew concerned. She suspected I might have wandered off somewhere. Her worry intensified when she spotted a school uniform submerged underwater in the pool. Without hesitation, she assumed it was me. The attendant who had been assisting earlier acted swiftly, diving into the pool to rescue me.
I remained unconscious for an unknown period, and my incident had created quite a scene. When I finally regained consciousness, I found my teacher by my side, engaged in conversation with another teacher. Many students from different sections had gathered, and it was then that I slowly pieced together what had happened and why I was soaking wet.
As word spread about the near-drowning incident involving a student from our school, teachers and students began to gather around me. I felt incredibly awkward under their scrutinizing gazes. Gossip had already started to circulate about how and why I had ended up in the water. Their theories were far from accurate, suggesting that I had lost my balance due to vertigo caused by the ride, leading to my fall into the pool.
Someone handed me a towel and a set of clothes, which turned out to belong to another student, urging me to change quickly. My teacher draped the towel over my head and guided me to the changing room, where I was supposed to swap my wet attire for the dry clothes. Inside, I found students from other schools also changing, some of whom curiously watched me as they heard about the drowning incident. This event suddenly made me a topic of discussion among strangers.
I did what my teacher told me to do and changed into the borrowed clothes. Then, I went back outside where she was waiting. She put her hand on my shoulder and asked if I was feeling okay if I could breathe properly, and stuff like that. I told her I was okay, but I still felt helpless.
I watched my classmates having fun on the rides from afar, knowing I couldn’t join them because of our school principal’s instructions. The sounds of laughter and the excitement on the rides were both comforting and a little bit sad. My teacher noticed me and offered me some tea, which I accepted gratefully. She brought me a cup along with a packet of biscuits we had from our visit to the Parle factory. I dipped the biscuits into the tea, enjoying the familiar taste.
As I enjoyed my tea and biscuits, I suddenly remembered the money I got for the biscuits on the bus. I got scared when I realized I didn’t have it with me. I noticed I wasn’t wearing my uniform, so I asked my teacher where it was. She told me it was on the bus. I was still worried because I wasn’t sure if the money was still in my uniform pocket or not.
As the day came to an end, our teacher let us know it was time to leave. We lined up and walked towards the exit gate. As we exited the water park, they gave us keychains with the water park’s name on them. I got one too, although I wasn’t too thrilled about it.
Back on bus number four, I eagerly searched for my school uniform, following my teacher’s instructions that it was on the last seat. As I delved into the bag, hunting for my uniform, I noticed something troubling – the money I had received in exchange for the biscuits was nowhere to be found. Whether it had slipped into the pool during the chaos or vanished in some other mysterious way, I couldn’t quite figure out.
Taking my seat, I felt a strange sadness about the money I had lost. It might sound odd, especially considering someone had just saved my life. But at that moment, I didn’t fully understand life and death. I wasn’t really aware of what had happened, so I didn’t feel as grateful as I should have. This experience taught me something important: when we’re angry, we don’t think clearly, and we might make bad decisions. I was mad at the ride attendant for not helping me fast enough, so I tried to leave the ride by myself, which wasn’t smart. It’s ironic that the same person who I was upset with ended up saving me.
At that moment, all I could think about was the money I had lost. I had big plans for that money, like buying ice cream, but now it was gone. While other kids chatted excitedly about the rides they enjoyed, I stayed quiet. Older students recounted their conquests on the slides, but no one engaged with me. Reflecting on my reserved nature during school, I realized it probably contributed to their indifference. It was a lesson learned: people often treat you the way you treat them. Yet, I didn’t mind the solitude; I preferred my own company over forcing connections with those who didn’t truly want to be around me.
As the bus journey continued, I glanced out the window, eavesdropping on my classmates’ conversations. Like that, minutes passed, then hours, and we finally reached the school.
Part Five: Back Home and Reflections on the Incidents
Upon our return to the school, a swarm of parents gathered to collect their children, but my mother was conspicuously absent. I lingered near the school’s entrance, scanning the crowd for any sign of her. The wait left me feeling a bit lonesome, yet the school’s nighttime ambience intrigued me. While my classmates departed with their families, I wondered if my mother had forgotten about me or lost track of time with her favorite TV show. Suddenly, she appeared, her arrival catching me off guard as I had been so intently watching the gate.
My teacher politely inquired, ‘Excuse me, may I know which student’s parent you are?’ My mother kindly responded with my name. Then, my class teacher took a moment to explain the incident at the water park. Witnessing my mother’s shock and emotional response, my teacher offered a sincere apology. As my mother’s expression shifted from concern to relief upon seeing me, she gently held my hand. Together, we left the school premises.
At home, my mother’s emotions swung between sadness and anger as she processed the incident. She held both me and the school accountable for what had happened. Her feelings were understandable, given the gravity of the situation. I worried about how my father would react if he learned about it; he could be stern and might even punish me. To my surprise, my mother advised me to keep the incident to myself. She was concerned that if my father and her in-laws heard about the incident, they might blame her for funding the picnic and react negatively.
So, when we finally arrived home, I found my grandmother sitting outside, chatting with the neighbors. She greeted me with a smile and asked, ‘How was your picnic? Did you enjoy it?’ I replied enthusiastically, sharing bits about the biscuit factory visit. She joked about not saving any biscuits for her, and we shared a laugh. As I entered the house, my mother handed me fresh clothes and instructed me to wash up and change. Afterwards, I settled in the living room and tuned into some cartoons, probably catching an episode of Oswald on POGO. Later, my mother served dinner, and after finishing my meal and watching a bit more TV, I headed to bed a bit earlier than usual, feeling a bit more tired than usual.
The following morning, my mother roused me from sleep for school, and I begrudgingly went through my usual morning routine. Despite longing for more sleep, I dragged myself out of bed, visited the toilet, washed up, and ate my usual breakfast of bread and butter with milk. Then, I donned my school uniform and made my way to school.
When I got to school, I overheard some students gossiping about me, calling me the ‘kid who almost drowned.’ Suddenly, I found myself in the spotlight because of the water park mishap. At recess, a few older students came up to me, eager to hear the details of how I ended up in the pool. I shared the story with some of them, but I quickly realized that dwelling on the incident was not a good idea.
Reflecting on my experience, I learned valuable lessons: not to let anger cloud judgment, to prioritize relationships over material possessions, and to cherish the love and support of family above all else.
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