Examinations over…..

Boxes packed…..

Farewell dinner…..

The Bonfire….

This has been the tradition over the years-but the last two events are something to tuck away in a corner of the memory and be remembered in days to come.

The out-going gang, in voices choking with emotion, weak efforts of cheerfulness, stuttering thanks, long pauses, deliver what is called a "Farewell Speech." An awesome ordeal when hearts are at breaking point. They move out to the grounds for the holocaust of grievances, if any, around the bonfire.

Gradually, everything works up to a crescendo of the top favourite "Pop Songs." Fireworks exploding and voices shattering the quiet of the hills. In the jostling and cheerful cameraderie the ten foot high fire has dwindled. This was the time for the last song, on the last night of school days, Auld Lang Syne is sung and with its dying tones another batch of Old Boys is created.

The morning after, you watch them, this new breed of young men. The happy go lucky expressions have vanished. They wander Over the campus. They look forsaken. They ponder, here and there. "Am I really leaving all this?" Farewell visits are paid to "First Dorm", 'First classroom", "first or last desk." Yes, he knows his desk, for somewhere, inside or out, his name is engraved. Every escapade of the years spent in school is relived and put away in that chamber of memories. One or two will confess to a midnight adventure which caused an upheaval but enjoyed in restrospect by the listener. A few lookers-on murmur, "watch him next year he will have forgotten."

This temporary forgetfulness is the natural process of a new year to be dedicated to the individual's choice of a way of life. A few years later, having accomplished much, there comes a brief space of time for reminiscence.

In the year of the centenary, that is just what they had done. Their Alma Mater calls. From far away places, with strange sounding names from familiar Indian cities they have made contact: some in person, some by post. The old school tie and crest are in great demand. The Victorian Association has awakened and is bustling with activity.

"Victoria Calling." - and our Old Boys, be they top executives, independent bosses, crafty businessmen, the lowly school master, the college student all respond and join in the race to get something done. No one wants to be the "jug chap" in this assembly.

School days are over for these men of the world, but the kinship of being a Victorian is alive. I meet a few every now and then and to me they are still my pupils. They make me feel proud when they recount something. Yes, they remember the good, the bad and the indifferent. It all helped to make them the men they are.

And they are great.

So three cheers for the Old Boys.

God Bless the Old Victorians ......

And VICTORIA.... The History of Victoria