'Etched In Memory' by Shalini Gupta

She enters from the kindergarten section, hallways echoing synchronous voices of eager toddlers screaming at the top of their lungs, a heady chorus almost like an anthem they were trying to learn by heart. The rooms were empty. Traditional art depictions in bright vermillion red and a lively forest green with black outlines graced the walls that stood drab in an off white state of slumber aeons back. The colours instantly reminded her of art class and a painting of leaves jostling for space with each other on the white background, until all that was left was blobs of green and red. She could picture a sweaty, gawky, teenager trying to swing the racket batting the oscillating white bird that touched it every time, to a salvo for her opponent on the other end of the court, out in the open on her left. A few steps ahead the open reception area was now a row of elitist chambers, a notice board, hanging in the middle. “Can I help you,?” said a woman with a condescending smile. Years ago, a student came looking for a water bottle forgotten during the assembly in the playground to find it tucked safely in a rusty almirah labelled lost and found, just behind the counter.