Skip to main content

Sweet Reminiscence


When I passed my board examinations, when I graduated, when I got a job, when I got married and when I got promoted, there is one thing that intrigues me at every juncture - how beautifully we are being transformed. I have been transformed into a better person and I owe it to my teachers (not just school teachers, this list also includes a sweet 3 year old boy Nandu, who I met on the train last weekend) who selflessly inculcated beautiful thoughts into my mind. This is the purest form of love, only second to mom’s and dad’s.

There are some nuances of my transformation that I would like to reminiscence on this special day – Teacher’s day. Is this a tribute? No. Am I trying to impress one of my teachers? No (I am way past that age now J) am I writing this for myself? Oh Yes.

I was 3 years 6 months and 11 days old, when I ran away on the very first day of school, crossed a busy highway and landed in my house’s backyard before my mom and dad came back after dropping me at school. I was crying all day and I had refused to eat lunch and I started breathing so hard they had to take me to the doctor, my mom told me later. Dramatic isn’t it? Well, that was just the beginning of my travails as a school going kid and it was just about to become worse.  


This was me, literally.


I was in my 6th grade; I thought I had changed a bit. I had a few close friends at school; there were a few teachers who knew me well (My mom was a teacher in the same school, so). On a beautiful Monday when our school reopened after our quarterly exam holidays, a terrible thing happened.

A new teacher Lalitha ‘miss’ had joined and she was going to teach Mathematics. Mathematics and I have had cold war going on for years already. It was typical of me to crumble during pressure at that time; I literally fainted when I heard her stern voice say “Good Morning Children”. In my mind, she had grown two horns, she had gone all red in her face and two of her teeth were sticking out. My Maths homework notebook was the shabbiest; I was down with fever for a week when Lalitha miss asked me why I did not finish my homework on time and asked me to come to her house for evening tuitions.

When I recovered, I realized she was, after all, not that bad. She was a good teacher and she taught me how to face difficult people and she sure did teach me Mathematics in a great way. I kind of like her now for transforming me into the person I am today who doesn’t fear difficult people neither fear Math. Thinking about it now, I smile at myself and feel gratitude for the teacher who taught me how to be confident and how to face life.


Sketched in iPad and edited in MS Paint



There are so many other amazing teachers who taught me great many things but this one is special J Thank You Lalitha Miss. Today, I would like to unlearn all the puny thoughts I had about you. I admire you a great deal and I will never think of you as just my 6th grade Mathematics teacher, you are top notch.

 

 

 

 


Comments

  1. Nice post. Happy Teacher's Day.

    ReplyDelete
  2. :)

    Hehe.. she taught you maths? ;)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yea, and she taught me well... I know you wish she taught you too, right? :P

      Delete
  3. Ha Ha I beat Anonymous (V) this time. I feel bad. He should be the first at all times and on all occasions.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lol SG, great observation. V is happy that my posts are receiving more comments and he know he is the first at all times heheee :)

      I remember a comic strip where a wife and husband fights and the wife says they are even if the husband comments on her blog. :D

      Delete
  4. A wonderful dedication it is!
    Teachers teach us use the wings and fly high!

    ReplyDelete
  5. hehe...we do realize howmuchever late that every single person who touches our lives, was there for a purpose.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Exactly Red! :) Thanks a bunch for dropping by :)

      Delete
  6. Hey Rohini, even my mother was a teacher in the same school where I studied. Even i have one special teacher, she was my first teacher. Read about her at http://maheshsowani.blogspot.in/2014/03/my-first-teacher.html

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Make Up and Me (Not Me)

They say people who don't know to dance have two left feet. Although, I might have two left feet myself, what is more interesting is I might actually have two left hands. Okay, I understand that's funny but here is why: If you are a girl or a boy or a boy who looks like a girl, you would probably know that it is a thing now to have a makeup blog or vlog or youtube channel in your name. I bumped into this world of cosmetics, beauty blogs and tutorials only a few months ago. For those who don't know about it, let me tell you, it is a crazy, ruthless and unbelievable world. Picture sourced from Google Heard of these? Snail slime masks, Placenta hair masks, Seaweed bathing creams, Microblading.... and endless other such insane stuff. These are insane but quite popular among beauty enthusiasts and they even swear by the benefits of such products. These are otherwise cringe-worthy products in my world. I use gramflour+tumeric face mask, Coconut oil hair mask and  a

Pro Bono

Team Writers' Den Previous Chapter -   Res ipsa loquitur Want to read the story so far? - Game Of Blogs - Writers' Den He could see her directly ahead through the shimmering blue glass window of Cafe Hafooda in Saket. The afternoon sun streamed along from the western side, casting long shadows across the table. Cyrus glanced up at Jennifer and then down at his mobile.  JJ liked Cyrus but she had a lot of questions in her mind. What was he doing? Secretly texting someone? Investigating without her help? Trying to solve something before someone else is on it? She was on this case with him. She wanted to do this for herself and for that little child and may be something more than she could comprehend. Whatever was his rationale, JJ decided to confront him. She spun herself around, sat down and found herself face-to-face with Cyrus. There was a sparkle in JJ’s eyes and Cyrus’s were menacing with thirst. Her tattoo seized Cyrus’s attention most. He was transfi

Ever Yours, Vincent.

Never in a thousand years did I think I would be obsessed with a late, delusional psycho who was also an exceptional artist and a noteworthy character with a peculiar interest for romance. My affair started around 8 years back; a time when I had started writing and blogging for the first time. I visited this pop-up museum of contemporary art which showcased Vincent Van Gogh’s choicest documentaries. Many of his famous paintings were also on display. That was the day I fell in love, with his art, with the way he loved, with the way he expressed himself before he fell into life’s inevitable trap. The beautiful yellowish hues that dominated his paintings, the sunflowers, the potato eaters and the starry night which comes alive in my dreams every night. Those letters he wrote his brother Theo with care, love and a pinch of attitude. That unconditional brotherly love, that aimless love he showed his friend and mentor Gauguin, that love he showed the random women he saw and paint