A teacher, a friend, a philosopher, a guide: Ties that bind forever - II

I still remember vividly my first day in school after the summer vacation of 2002. I joined a bit late because of a knee-surgery. A new teacher had joined our school to teach us English. Since I joined a bit late, I had missed the guidelines she had given earlier on ‘précis writing’.  So, when she came to our class that day and gave us an assignment on ‘précis writing’, I had no idea that I would be bombarded that day. I used to be a fairly good student and used to score the highest marks in English and I was totally unaware of what was going to befall.

I was sitting on the first row that day. After about fifteen minutes or so, she came and stood in front of me. After staring at my notebook for a few seconds she burst. “What are you doing?” These are the exact words that came from her. I was taken aback. When I regained my composure, I did what I usually do i.e. defend myself; the only difficulty here was that I had no idea what I was defending. With each moment she was getting angrier and I was getting more uncomfortable. It was difficult for me to stand up due to the surgery but somehow I tried to pull myself up, when somebody came to my rescue and told the teacher that it was my first day in school after the knee surgery. Thankfully, she calmed down and asked me to sit and then she explained me how to write a précis.

Well, frankly speaking it left a very bad taste in my mouth. Here is a confession to make. I did not like my English teacher much during the first couple of weeks or so. I tried hard to trade places with those who used to sit at the back for the English slot. I was very scared of being humiliated for studies. And since I did not know what else I had missed out when I was on leave I thought it best to hide. The first few pages of my English notebook were pathetic.

However, with time I came into the mainstream and I started fairing well. I stopped being scared and sooner than I had expected I found out that my English teacher was more humane than I thought she was. She encouraged me a lot in everything I did. She patiently read my poems and heard me out. She was and still is more than a teacher. I don’t know exactly how but slowly she became one of the best teachers I have ever known. All I can say is that she has a quality – a unique quality to see the good in her students and encourage them to use that goodness. And when I say ‘goodness’ it is not just in studies, it is the goodness in the person.

Very few people get to meet such wonderful people in their lives and I am truly blessed to be one of them. Today is her birthday and I wrote this down so that I can tell her how much she means to me and how important and influential she has been in shaping me into what I am today. Thank you, Madam. Thank you for being my teacher, my friend, my philosopher and my guide. Wish you many happy returns of this day. Happy Birthday. God bless you.

This is for you, Mousumi Madam.

THE POWER OF DREAMS

It is indeed surprising how few people actually have dreams and still fewer actually chase their dreams. There are two kinds of people: One who have dreams and the other who do not have dreams. Rather, the second category have what I say, a twisted reflection of dreams. Those who have dreams know what it means to be free, liberated. Those who don’t have dreams live with the illusion that they are free.

In fact, everyone has the power to dream and the power to follow their dreams. Yet sadly, people prefer following the mirage – the twisted reflection of dream. In this modern world people run after money thinking that’s their dream. People do not realize that money is just a means, and many a times it is not, to the real dreams that have become hazy. That’s perhaps the reason why people have much, yet not enough. People become so busy chasing the mirage that they do not recognise the oasis anymore. The ‘means’ has become an endless ‘end’.

There are another two categories of people: One who are unaware of their dreams and the other who are aware that category one people are unaware of their dreams. What a mess! It is the second category that usually exploits the former in the guise of letting them fulfil their dreams.

What do people dream for? Is it a penthouse with a swimming pool; a farmhouse with a stable full of horses; gold; diamonds; luxury; and an endless list of things that money can buy? Or, is it happiness, love, friends, home, family... that money cannot buy?

Think for a while, what would be your perfect day.

Earlier I used to think that my perfect day would be in an exotic island with someone I love. We would enjoy water sports, have candle light dinner, lie under the morning sun for hours...

With time I realised that it is easier to get that then the joy of spending time with the people you love most. As time has gone by, I can’t say I have become wiser but I can surely say that I know what my dream is: To have a perfect day each day. And now my perfect day is not about an exotic vacation.

My perfect day is being with my family; having meals together and talking about everyday things like friends; sharing my thoughts and secrets with them; sharing smiles and tears; being able to hug them and tell them how much I love them and need them in my life each day; trying to put together the pieces of a big happy family that money and possessions have torn apart.

And my prayer each day is: Lord, teach me to love and respect what I have and teach me to crave for worldly possessions lesser and lesser that I may not lose what I have.

This is my dream. What about yours?

MY SISTER, MY FRIEND: Ties that bind forever – I

I don’t remember much about we sisters did when we were kids. I have vague memories of our little adventures and many a times when I reminisce about the happy and sad times we have shared, I feel deeply nostalgic and I want to go back to the days gone by and let no sorrow touch my little sister. When my little sister was born I was slightly resentful. It wasn’t like most of the happy stories told when kids await the arrival of their younger siblings like the arrival of a new toy. At first it was happy anticipation. I was eagerly waiting for the little angel of the family. I was waiting to play with the tiny fingers and toes and feel them curled around mine. I was waiting for the twinkling eyes and cute toothless smiles that the baby would flash on me. But when the little angel finally arrived, my happy anticipation was turned to bitter resentment. In fact, it was jealousy. All on a sudden, I found that I was no longer the centre of attraction. All eyes rested on the little baby that never left my mother’s side. And toughest of all was we were not allowed to play with the baby. Everyone thought we might infect the baby. The baby needed sleep and it slept throughout the day. We could only look at her and she looked back at us with her twinkling eyes and occasionally she would flash her cute little toothless smile. Occasionally, when I would find her all alone, I would pinch her and make her cry to soothe my resentment and take revenge from her for taking my place and all the attention I received before her arrival.

But one day while I was trying to hurt her, she looked at me with her beady eyes sparkling like glass and she opened and closed her mouth, like a fish out of water, trying to say something. And as if from nowhere but somewhere special and pure, my heart was filled with love for her. I felt that she wanted to tell me that she needed me in her life and wanted me to be there for her always. I felt important and big. I felt I have to take care of her no matter what happened. I realised that she is my sister, my friend... then... now... forever...

And I know that many a times I have failed her, ignored her, hurt her... but I have done all these in ignorance and only I know how I regret the many times when I could have been a better sister but I was not. And all that I can do now is to make up for the times gone by and love and care for her so much that all my shortcomings would be forgotten.

If you are reading this my dear little sister, all I want to say is that I am sorry for all the times I have hurt you and I love you a lot. You are my sister, my friend... my best friend ever and forever.

P.S.: The image is a painting by William Adolphe Bouguereau, Two Sisters

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