When we were toddlers we were often asked to write a paragraph on Teachers day and whatever hackneyed points we jostled up in the exercise books, one point we always added at the end ' our elders come to teach us'. Teachers' days remained the most sought after for both the seniors and the juniors ... While the former waited eagerly for their turn to the other side of the desk, for us the juniors it was a break from the monotonous class works and scoldings ... at least for that day we could have 'teachers' of almost our age, li'l bit older and most importantly they were uniformed like us. Another thing attached us to this day dearly...as we grew up we counted "when will the time be when we will also go as teachers?"
I dreamt of the day when I would be able going to the juniors and gathering gifts and acting as a teacher and the school teachers would treat me at per ... a dream lucrative enough to let me through the first 11 years of the total 13 years that I spent in Nava Nalanda...
As I pour over the long lost pages of the memoirs, events collage in my mind ... so many of them ...so colourful, so exciting ...I miss them ...
When I was in class II, then some dadas-didis came in our class and gave us some maths to do....we all grunted, groaned ...but they were teachers after all ... so we never dared to speak. We did as they said ...they checked our copies .... then they gave us toffees ... the day passed on and I started sketching out how I would do when I take to that side of the desk ....
A I reflect ... even we had so much respect for our elders and they had so much love and care ... They were more eager to impart the value of the institution and all that Nava Nalanda stood for ... they took care of us ... they had fun with us but that never crossed the boundary .... they knew it and we were also bound by some unseen decorum and every year that was a success ... so as i thank my teachers for whatever I am today ... that thank my elders too ...
Even as I reflect ... I had taught at a school briefly ... can time change so fast? ... professionalism is good but if that creeps into the relation of the teacher and the students then it mars all the basic values of one of the most sacred relationship in the world ... I have noticed this change quite painfully ... its not even a generation ... but the change seemed mammoth ... they never bothered ... only give and take .. give us notes, I pay you fees ... and the elders and juniors are busy fighting out for sheer dominance ...
As I was remembering .... in the natural course, I was promoted to class IX and then the teachers' day came ... and I was made to lead the team who would teach at class VIII sections. Groups were formed ....
I remember my first gift as a teacher ... A pen ... then a card with "TO MY YOUNG TEACHER" written on it ... In-charge ma'm came and inspired us ... gave us a vision what teachers should be, what is expected ... I had my first brush with teaching ... little did I know that I'll be taking up the same to be my profession ....
My teachers gave me a lot ... an identity, a dream, ... and all that makes me and all that defines my world .... school-college-university ... I have been lucky enough to come across a cross section of such eminent personalities who taught me, enriched me with their lectures ... subject- class room studies or beyond it .... I can never Miss this opportunity to thank them once more ... I know ... Its nothing if I consider my indebtedness to them .... Thank u teachers .... Happy Teachers' Day
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Memoirs—1
I got an sms just yesterday – "memories play a strange role…it makes you laugh when you remember the time when you cried and makes you cry when you remember the time when you laughed …may be…some become so obscure that they even fail to stir up any emotions in me. Even some have died down the deepest pit of forgetfulness that they will never come up I guess…
Sometimes, when in an idle moment, I just spend some void time, all to myself, some moments from the obscure past sparks back and carries my train of thought away …
College—University—school—those days … Tapasya lost her mother recently …memories were flooding back …
It was 2005 and we were in the 2nd year of our college and were armed with the responsibility to organize the "fresher's welcome" for the new first year of the English Department. Amateurish expertise that we had, we were reluctant to have a public display of our foray into the cultural arena during the rehearsals. Class room wasn't the safe idea given the unalarmed intrusions. Canteen and the roof top were discarded for the obvious reason. While the bunch of young adults was engrossed in the worrisome think session as to where to rehearse, the tiny, pretty girl hopped in with the brilliant idea of her house. First time I took notice… the tiny cute girl … Tapasya … Tapi for us … and we all stationed ourselves at her place. There we met her … or favorite Kakima…with her ever smiling face and often creative inputs. She became our supreme advisor … song selection, dialogue preparation, voice training …this and that … she was so much there even in her absence in the final programme …we never noticed…never did we mention her all through …
College passed by, we got busy. Some for a reason … some like me, just to show we are busy … She is no more … at this hour I suddenly remember her and this guilt chokes me …
Shame! Shame!
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