The One With The Last Bench

It all began in the first year. I was late for the first class of the first day of college, but the professor was cool enough to let me attend. The only place I could find to park myself upon was so dusty that you’d think you were in the Sahara Desert. The last bench. I had to make my way through rows and rows of people I didn’t know, not a friendly face. And I tried my best to avoid the professor’s deadly glare. So I made my way back there with utmost anticipation. I’d never been so far away from the board. The moment I sat down, I knew it. I knew that I had set something in motion. I knew that I had become the part of a very big motion picture when I soiled my jeans with the last bench dirt. Parking myself in the last row with all the dust and faint doodles on the desk was going to change my life forever. And it did. School was out. College had begun. I had become a part of a conspiracy. I was the conspiracy. The Last Benchers’ Conspiracy.

The tables had turned for everyone and by the time I was in the second semester if you came late, you had to sit in the first row. And that was your punishment for oversleeping. By the third semester, no other place felt like home and it was officially third-degree torture to have to sit in the first row. I remember how exposed I felt when I had to sit there. The last row. The last bench. My bench. That was home.

The back bench has seen people come and go. It has seen generations of students become generations of stories. The students keep changing. But the one thing that keeps connecting them together, is that ragged bench with all the doodles all over it. The timeless bench. The bench who has been a refuge to every student who wanted to take a quick nap. The bench where hungry people secretly open up their packets of chips and biscuits. The bench who never fails to make you feel like you’re the smartest person in the class. The bench with all the memories. The home to the strongest of bonds of friendships and mutual hatred for all the professors. The Back Bench.