I was never an attentive student, nor the brightest.
I don’t remember every person I ever met. I don’t remember, what they told me, how they treated me.
But there are some I can never forget.
My debut novel, The Rose Bush, is my life’s dearest endeavour and it bears testimony. If you go through the novel’s acknowledgement, you will find, some extraordinary people are responsible for ‘making’ me.
For shaping my thoughts, the way I see things, the way I present them. It has been ingrained in me by my teachers, in particular the ones at Sacred Heart, Ranchi. They are the people who prepared me, and made me capable of realising all my dreams.
I was never a favourite pupil for long. My affinity to fiction, invariably brought me into bad books of academics, but my teachers never lost hope. Each year, with progress into each chapter they thought maybe I could be salvaged along with my marks, but it never materialised.
For sake of good marks and their good reviews, I did try, but fictions and characters beckoned me and I always lost my way, to novels.
Yet today, when I get down to my work, read: passion, writing; my teacher’s guidelines still ring in my ears.
I can vividly picture them, as if it was just yesterday, when they stood at the head of the class, explaining various theories using every possible resource at hand. Be it the sense of speaking, seeing, sense of touch, several notebooks and other articles, perched at various angles on the blackboard, or the table. Their bodies, twisted and turned, so that they could handle these objects, achieving a posture and model that could successfully help us imagine and see what the words in the text books couldn’t convey.
My dear teachers, though my academic marks will not be a proof, but your efforts were not in vain. All your lessons are, embedded in my memory, like you all are. I remember them every day, as I remember you all.
All of us have told you innumerable times, and I say it again, We miss you!
It’s been more than a decade since I left my alma mater, Sacred Heart, Hulhundu, Ranchi.
I hold a post graduate degree, so obviously up to this juncture of my life, I have had the good fortune to be guided by several excellent masters.
All of them, I believe, have helped me evolve, not just grow.
When I discovered, I could be confident to the point of being arrogant, they reprimanded, yet praised me more for my confidence. When I had to appear for a crucial exam, after a gap of a year, my teacher knew it could only be because I had been stuck with something urgent, the previous year. There was no lurking doubt, that I may have been negligent with my studies.
As a newlywed, with brand new responsibilities, making to class was always a race, a race that I never won. But my teachers were my champions with their understanding.
My teachers have guided, nurtured, encouraged and helped me to where I am today.
Teachers are a lot, I believe, that never stunt ones growth. They care, they coax, they guide, they lead. They are the ones, who show you the endless horizons life has to offer. They provide you the road map to the journey, which will take you to the destination.
My dear teachers, you all, did the same.
From Carmel Convent, Giridih; Sacred Heart, Ranchi; DAV, Hehal, Ranchi; RKW College, Giridih to Mount Carmel, Bangalore. All the teachers I ever came across, thank you all from the bottom of my heart.
When my novel was launched, my teachers were the proudest, happiest and extremely encouraging.
Teachers are mostly not our blood relations. But, beside the A, B, O type blood groups, I think, there is another system of blood classification (besides the known biological ones).
The TEACHER-STUDENT blood type.
Love, indulgence, critique, wellbeing of students on teacher’s part
Critique, fear, respect, everlasting fondness and nostalgia on the student’s part.
And the blood type gets transferred from one generation to next.
No matter who or where you are, once you come into the student-teacher realm, you get infused with this blood type, in your system.
Same happened to me, during my stint as a teacher. I changed, from being a lost student to a dedicated guide. Who might not know all the answers, but took trouble to find out, for my students.
My thinking process changed. I became a different, me. I tried my best to emulate my teachers, because besides academics, I wanted my students to learn what my teachers had taught me.
My students, in turn, accepted me and my ways, whole heartedly.
That is the beauty of this relationship.
I will always miss my students as I miss my teachers.
‘My teachers who gave me endless horizons.’
P.S.: Belated Happy Teachers’ day, to all the generations of students and teachers.
The featured picture, is the card cum wall hanging my daughter presented to her teachers this Teachers’ day! The tradition continues, methods change, but the feelings remain the same.
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