Four years is what it takes to make a man. Four excruciating years! Each passing day at high school is a new life lived. Each moment subsisted is a grueling feat. This is not a narrative of a high school movie nor is this any account of a coming-of-age novel. Veracity is that, high school is the ultimate battle for survival. That senile geography professor, those sturdy bullies, that brazen Richie Rich, those exasperating backbenchers, that repulsive Mr. Know-all, and those crazy little floozies – the villains of one’s nastiest nightmare are all there.


You don’t know why but that stout ill-tempered professor always has you on his hit-list. Just as he enters the classroom, he glares you with his bloodshot eyes and asks you the only question you don’t have the answer of. Then, the worst part comes. The yelling gives you mental trauma and your reddened face accompanies the disgrace in front of the entire classroom. You wish the earth beneath you tears up and swallows you inside.

Bullies are the pits. And those god-dammed rogues have such good eye-sights. Even if you bury yourself in the murkiest corners of the playground, you cannot escape their attention. In your teen-life, this is the only attention you wish you hadn’t got. And once they find you, they pounce on you like hungry scavengers. Their saliva-dripping tongue scares the crap out of you. At times, you feel like revolting. But, intimidation gets the better of you and you find solace in the fact that everything is going to be over in mere four years. Four more years only!

 

He has a fancy ride; speaks in a weird accent; dresses up good as if a gay; and has a secret genie. Who? That sick Richie Rich. Nobody knows how he got hold of that genie but he owns whatever he wishes. And however good you dress, he’ll make you look a total jerk. And, bugs on the trash (antonymous to icing on the cake!), those floozies love him. Oooohhhh!!! Isn’t he hot? I wish I could be with him. He’s so cute. Common girls, go get a life!


Always warming up the last benches of the classroom are the backbenchers. They live in packs. Irregular heights, spotted faces, creepy hairstyles, and an unusual level of noise is what distinguish them from the others. And, you should watch out for their shenanigans at all times. On occasions, you could fall trap to their pranks and boy does it hurt, both physically and emotionally. The only fun you can have with them involved is either when they get in the nerves of that professor or when those bullies have them on their target for a change.


Mr. Know-all is the worst of the lot. You are a nobody to him. He is “above your league”. He is the pet of all the teachers. Your parents taunt you with his example let alone your teachers. Why can’t you be like him? Why the heck would anyone want you to be like somebody else? You are special on your own. You create music from your armpits, you fit six chicken-wings in your mouth, you spit farther from a rooftop, you know the name of every other person in your school, and you make better paper-airplanes. Can he do that? Why doesn’t anybody notice that talent in you? Why is it you who is doomed?

 

Berserk is the word to sum up high school. Berserk is your attitude, berserk is your personality, berserk are your classmates, berserk are your teachers, berserk is the whole experience, berserk are you. At the end of each day, you die. And yet, you rejoice in the fact that your high school is a day shorter. Oh the High School Blues.