Back in the days

I remember the summers when days were long and the nights were short, and life felt free

I also remember how great it felt to leave mosque at 7.30pm so I could get home just in time for the A-team.

Not that it was good to leave mosque but give me a break.

I finished school at 3.30pm leaving me an hour and a half before to get home and get ready before I would have to start mosque at 5pm.

Alright, I got to watch my Captain Planet during that short period but what about Grange Hill and Blue Peter? Did i miss something important?

Whilst sitting behind my graffiti ridden bench (sorry to the mosque, i was one of the culprits) I would see the Molvi (mosque teacher) looking around to see who was talking or sniggering.

Every now and then you would get called to the front of the class and if you didn't know anything you got whacked on your hand (Corporal Punishment - use to happen back in the days but no longer happens). The secret to not getting hurt was NOT to pull your hand away at the last second - take the pain otherwise the stick will hit your finger tips and that kills.

In the winter one of my friends would come in wearing gloves thinking the Molvi wouldn't notice. It didn't work then and doesn't today.

I got hit once because I didn't know my dad’s name. What kind of question is that to ask anyone? Dad's name is.........dad of course.

And there was always a kid who'd call his parents in to talk to the teachers. "Daddy, daddy the Molvi hit me because I was wearing a huge fake diamond earring in class" what a snitch (and a doofus for wearing an earring on one ear) . He'd get 'special' treatment after that because his modern family was too good for our mosque.

There was a thief among us once. He was nicking everyone's brand new shoes (we had a Tommy Balls style shoe rack, so it was like an open sale). Nobody ever found out who he (or she, got to be PC) was. It was only after one of the mosque committee members 'Bata' Jhuthees (Indian branded shoes) went missing did things get out of hand. The solution - to keep the front door shut.

Parent Teacher days were great. All the parents would come in to see how much their sons and daughters had learnt about life and stuff. Unfortunately some of us still hadn't mastered the 'Patee'*.

One time I was truant from mosque during the World Cup but the Molvi sent another kid to my house to check where I was. When the S*** hit the fan so did I, especially when they found out I'd been spending the Friday fees on 'Fab' Ice lollies.

*Patee: A plastic A5 sheet with the alphabet on it or 'Tupti' for our Gujarati readers.