I was in standard 3 or 4, I don't remember exactly. It was Saturday and my mother being a teacher herself ,had to leave earlier than me for school. She had pressed my dresses and polished my shoes. Since it was half day, there would be no need of tiffin. We had this small rule in house, tiffin would be of mummy's choice and breakfast would be of mine. Half days were fun, because I wouldn't have to tolerate mummy's sabji.
But that day for some reason, breakfast was not of my choice. Mummy was not home. Daddy was in the office. Only my grandmother was there, but she was weak. I threw a tantrum. I'm not proud of it, but I was a very stubborn girl . My rickshaw pulled outside my home and I ran. I didn't even touch my juice. That was my first attempt at defiance.
Every Sunday, we had an state level exam. The good students from school were prepared for it. Teachers gave them special attention (not fair, but I wasn't politically aware then, and at that stage a little attention from teachers makes your day worth while) . I was one of the rankers of our batch. And had pretty much always scored top in that exam. I was teacher's favourite . We had to attend special classes for that. We had to cut down our recess, give up our sports classes and stay behind for one hour. But I remember that Saturday, it was a bit hectic. A new guy from another school had taken addmission, and he was everyone's in focus. In an attempt to show my superiority, I had applied a trick of Manasanka hastily, and lost 13 marks altogether. And my stomach was growling. The teacher in charge, was furious for my over smartness. I was on the verge of tears.
Suddenly someone calls 'Jhia' and I lost it. It was Khageswara Guruji, he had taken care of me since I was in pre-nursery. He had never taught me any subject. I knew he taught various subjects but he was never assigned our classes. When I was in class 1, I remember losing my path inside our school, he had taken me to my class literally by holding my fingers. I had submitted my story for our school magazine, he was the first one to tell me, this won't work. He didn't even tution me, but he would bring my progress report to my home every month, and my parents would discuss with him, where I did what wrong. Also, he would give information about all the people who did well. He would tell small details like, this guy did less mistakes than her, but she scored more because she had attempted every question and he hasn't. On days, when we would have leisure periods or adjustments , he would take me to the non existent library , or he would just sit there in front of our class and tell everyone embarrassing stories of me. He loved me. And I loved him. Listening to his voice, I broke down.
He took me to our principal's chamber. I have never been there. He opened a small private room. There was a table, with red flowery table cloth. Two small chairs and a stool. On the middle of the table, there was a glass of milk , two small packets. He forced me to drink the glass of milk, and then took the knife and cut fruits for me. He fed me total two apples and a banana. I ate in silence. When I finished it, he scolded me a lot. After that he gave me a milk cake. Which is what I wanted in my breakfast. I got to know later that my mother has called him. But at that time he was a magician. I came back to class and beat that guy within the time left. He became my lucky charm. There are several such anecdotes. If I sit down to write them, my memories will fail me. And I was not the only one. There was another one he called his pua. And several others, along with many students whom he had taught.
He was the kindest, sweetest and warmest teacher I have ever known. I was in my graduation, when we lost him. His demise was sudden. I didn't even knew about it, until it was too late. I couldn't attend his last rites. I haven't yet gone to his house. It has been five years. I have stopped crossing that road. I'm a coward. The least I can do is, pay his family a visit. But I don't have the courage. And I have failed him. And I miss him, terribly on times like this. I wish he had been here, guiding me, holding my finger. I wish he would smile at me, tell me it's okay, he would just stand there and I can conquer the world.
Happy Teachers' Day, Guruji. Please come back. 🙏