Sunlit Paths and Tailor’s Tales
A wave of relief swept him as he stepped out of the school’s gates. The clock marked 3:15 PM, and the relentless afternoon sun scorched the air, its heat almost tangible. His stomach rumbled, a stark reminder of the lunch that seemed to have vanished too quickly. The school’s grand walls stood radiant, reflecting the sun’s fierce luminescence, while the street unfurled before him, adorned with an array of houses, each crowned with a roof unique in character. The day’s chemistry lessons had been dreary, leaving him longing for English class's captivating tales and discussions, where words wove worlds far beyond the confines of formulae and equations.
His pace was unhurried as he meandered down College Street, passing St. Lucia’s school where the boys of St. Lucia’s lounged on the broad wall ledge. He had traversed this route countless times, each tiny detail of the neighbourhood etched into his memory.
He pondered the time he had spent in middle school, his old shoes tracing the familiar path day after day.
The camaraderie and interactions at school were the zenith of his academic year. Gazing upon the school building, he was struck by nostalgia and melancholy, keenly aware that his boyhood untroubled, blissful days were now relegated to the present. Instinctively, he stowed a pen from his pocket into his bag, a precautionary measure. The aroma of warm curry drifted from the homes, evoking memories of his last holiday at home. Wisps of bright clouds softly reflected in the blue sky. His thoughts drifted back to the previous Sunday when he had recited a passage from the Book of Acts during mass, a moment that earned him a commendation from the priest. Recently, his mind wandered, even during lessons, as he daydreamed about sketches or future projects.
Caught in his reverie, he was jolted back to reality upon arriving at the tailor’s shop. A firm hand on his shoulder and a friendly greeting startled him. “Good afternoon, son. Are you here to pick up your pants? They’re ready,” said the tailor, who had taken his order for a pair of crimplene trousers costing fifteen rupees a week ago. Without any money on hand, he hesitated, but the tailor encouraged him to try them on and pay later.
Stepping away from his friends, he entered the tailor’s makeshift shop on the veranda. The tailor, bare-chested and clad in a colourful sarong, ushered him to a curtained changing area and waited outside. With a hint of reluctance, he swapped his school trousers for the new ones. The tailor’s unexpected advice on his tight undergarments surprised him, yet he accepted it and proceeded. The trousers fit perfectly, leaving him content and a bit more grown-up than before. He looked himself up in the mirror in the tailor shop and was pleased.
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