To my Teachers, With Love

A dinner table family discussion can turn out to be pretty tricky if everyone is feeling nostalgic and the spotlight is on you.Tricky because the skeletons safely tucked in the closet are brought out again n again n again and the reason behind it being coz its ‘funny’ (albeit the kin would prefer the word ‘adorable’ ) Stupidity is one sin that is truly forgiven when you are a kid. Foolishness seemed okay coz you could compensate it with being cute.But if you look at it this way….You were being observed so closely by people around you who refused to let you out of sight even for a sec coz you were ‘important’ to them….it makes you smile. So I sat n smiled today as I remembered a few happy chapters in my life. These are just few dog eared pages involving people who knew if burnished well, I could shine and spark.




Chapter 1 : Initiate……Have the courage to pick up the pieces and make a start.

The human structure neatly tucked in a uniform gets comfortable on the familiar four legged wooden structure. The legs of the former dangle in mid air; too short to reach and rest on the ground. The pose remains the same but nevertheless looked forward to with sheer delight every morning by the 2yr old waiting to be painted with different hues. The peregrination always ended a few happy steps before the ideal destination.While the other lilliputs steered in the huge brick box with tables and chairs and tried to figure out what the female soma had to say , I sat in my daily posture and gazing pose on my favorite chair( placed with perfection facing the street..) for two months. I sat smiling as if amused by a self composed surreptitious thought. The smile widened when lured with chocolates ; the bait being the entry into the classroom ( the big box ).But all this in vain!! When I was busy observing infinity each day, Mom observed me.Figuring out the sine qua non for educating her child was constantly on her mind.She noticed and she noticed me well. The drumbeats accompanied with a decorated team of oxen sped my heartbeats and gave me the heebie-jeebies (as King Julian of the Madagascar fame puts it). To bereft the nightmare of being taken away by this jungle of men and animals, I finally slipped myself into a new four legged furniture..placed much to my liking near the window.Education in the form of learning finally shook my hand. I had missed out on the two months of strenuous training of drawing celestial bodies and writing alphabets and numbers. The scene consisting of two chairs , a yellow bag , a desk and sunlight from the window still remains with me. This scene was followed each afternoon with only two actors …Mom, the protean teacher and me, the obdurate novice who always colored the sun a little too bright.I scored a 99/100 at the end of the year.Mom, I still exaggerate when I sketch but I do know my alphabets well now.


Chapter 2 : Dance….The power to express without saying a word.

Mondays and Fridays evenings saw me dressed up in red and yellow dancing away to glory…literally for 8 years. My legs found movement, my body found rhythm, my facial expressions found melodramatic escapes and my mind found the seminal grace. I was introduced to Bharatnatyam when I was in grade one by the most graceful lady I have met in my entire life. I called her Aunty and she reciprocated with Deeeeboleena.I never corrected her for the extended “e’s” . I never felt the need to. A stern look from her in case of any mistake was enough to scare us and make immediate amendments. This form of dance taught me grace, the difference between stiff and flexible , the power to do and not over do, the power to feel and express. What followed was a number of performances on stages of different widths and bases at different locations with different genres of people appreciating the art. The stage fright that once existed was reeled to the ground now. When on stage, it is my kingdom and I’m known to be a just and fair ruler.The love affair with the dance ended abruptly after my 8th grade. I had reasons then but learning this form of art will always be a reason for what n who I am today.All that I desire to point out is the general principle that life imitates art far more than art imitates life.

Chapter 3 : The Table…that unfolded many exigent tangles.

The blue folding table rests peacefully in the store room. It deserves to after all the trauma it has witnessed. This table was the most important base and meeting point of two people on days of crucial importance. It provided support bearing heavy objects crowded unkindly..as if testing it’s patience when it came to bearing the pain. It provided the weapons in the form of books to a mentally wounded soldier who desperately seeks the assistance of a war Major for the war of mathematics dated for the next day. My eyes, sodden with pain and anguish the cruel world of examination had caused , looked towards Dad. The look has always worked..thanks to the tactics I had developed in expressing elaborated in chapter no.2 .Dad , the master and ardent lover of the subject never refused to provide assistance even at the eleventh hour. He always believed the basics should be strong.After all the entire structure was dependent on it. Agreed but when you have an exam the next day, you really want someone to tell you only about what you would face and not what would make you really good at it. But grumbling was of no use. So I wrote the definitions of a point,circle,segment etc knowing very well that none would be asked. Dad had tremendous patience.I understood this as a kid. After 3hrs of rigorous solving when somebody falters at a silly question…you really feel like ripping your hair off.Dad surprisingly never did that although tempers did fly once in a while. He gave me short ten min breaks where I could go and hit my sister and come back. The hitting was usually usurped by botherings of my rantings because Di was the shark and I was the goldfish back then.I always scored well mostly because I never wanted to let him down. It was important for me to do well when I was taught so well.The celebrations of a good score with corn and a heap of peanuts with Dad was priceless.

Chapter 4: Imagination…. makes you think better.

Try to imagine what your pet must be dreaming about when he is fast asleep. Try to imagine your leafy garden turn into a jungle with you it’s inhabitants and your pet dog as your pet tiger. Try to imagine a picnic in the woods with jars of marmalades and cookies on a blameless blue Sunday. Try to cook up names and associate cartoon characters with people you know. I am not asking you to cross the line and use hyperboles which cause nausea. I sure do pity the people who can’t dream, who can’t imagine. It’s a must tenet which should be swallowed by each child along with his/her baby food. Di had swallowed oodles of it and she made sure I had my share too. The result was me hanging stockings till the 7th grade greedy for Christmas gifts each 25th dec night while rest of my classmates sniggered and sneered. The disbelief so strong in them just made me feel sorry for them. For I had the power to weave a story and generate interest. Interested and interesting is all I want to be all my life.Although Di there are times when I don’t want you to associate me with a one eyed green water thing with tentacles called Plankton …I hold dear Hakuna Matata that song you,me n Pluto share.

P.T.O ( to be continued as and when meet and sigh at the sight of people who measure all the students with the same yardstick)