Home – Oct 25 2012 – 8:34 pm
As much as possible – as much politeness as that can be shown by an enraged person, she told me that my parents had made a big blunder in spending so much money for my upanayanam or poonal (sacred thread). By not doing “sandhiya vandanam” (sacred pooja that Brahmins should do) once a day, forget thrice, I have basically wasted everyone’s efforts. And then, with a smiling sarcastic (even Sheldon in Big Bang would get the irony) twist, she gave me a brand new book of Shlokas – all about Sandhya vandanam.
Rajalakshmi teacher or Sanskrit teacher, as we called her, never minced words – you cannot get her to your side by resistance, by being teacher’s son (that I was), by praising her, by anything – except when she wanted.
The Shloka classes she arranged must have been an administrative nightmare . Lunch time – and getting students to recite Shlokams sitting in a mat (when they wanted to be freely roaming the ground or eating Churan from Sundar outside the school gate or Guava from Mai or Damodaran’s Dosai) – and at DTEA Lodhi estate – year in year out – with not even a thanks from students – must have been a daunting task for anyone, but the old lady had courage, dignity, and passion for the language she taught.
Not that I was particularly fond of her at that time – but over the years, I have been thinking about her at various junctures – meeting her informally at Santosh teachers house, he debates with Swami on various topics, her coming first to the school on Saraswati pujai days (when Damodaran would serve all of us at school – those hot coconut and kariveppalai filled sundals) – leading so many of us without the gladdening response of gratitude. It is downright amazing and very, very amazing to think of our dear “sanskrit ma’am”.
I remember in our Sanskrit periods, Murali was the only boy who would answer al the questions…. And hence would get to sit. Those who would not answer the vibakti-karak combination needed to stand on the bench – that basically meant the whole class except Murali. Her period in seventh class was the first one after lunch. And the whole class would be standing on the bench – TS once tried to close the exit door of the class so that others passing thru the corridor would not stare at the entire class standing up. She noticed and said if you guys loved respect so much, how about learning to earn it first – by disciplined study. That, of course, never came.
There is a generation of these teachers I can never forget – Rajabhai teacher and her geography class, Shantha teacher and Lakshmi teacher going for coffee break to Canteen after the first Maths class, Ramamurthi sir’s anger, Lakshmana sir’s legendary “TCs” for running on the corridors, Chelappa sir’s ear twisting, Anandam teacher’s wrist lock and pinching (till 8th class after which my wrist grew beyond her grasp)..Sarojini teacher reading Addison Barnaby the secret agent – or hot springs
Our school was/is poor and lacked benches and admin staff (remember how Ganga used to sound the bell – using an iron cuboid? – how rotten egg smell of Sulphuric acid was permanently present outside the Chemistry lab – so much that no one went to drink water from he taps outside the lab) – these people came from far and near – simple honest people who went beyond their call of duty…and our generation grew and grew with them.
In my office, we are asked to address juniors and seniors – all by their first name. Fair enough. Yet, even today, I cannot call any of them without adding qualifiers – and I am going to hit 40 soon…it doesn’t matter..
Some of these teachers are dead – they live with us though – and hopefully would manifest as the love we feel for our children as we guide them through their education life… that in them will live these beautiful beautiful people.
Thank you – Thank you – teachers – Thank you for being there – we are here because you held us there that day.
Thank you for all this and the more to come – that we call life . We might as well as called these gifts “you.”
