Tryst With A Teacher

Thank you Kamal!! Yes, some of the teachers introduced us to great movies too. Certainly Utpal Dutt did. I remember him telling me not to miss Chaplin's Limelight, or Robert Donat's Goodbye Mr. Chips. In fact, he himself took us all to watch Laurence Olivier's Richard III. After the show was over, I distinctly remember him asking me Do you think you can ever act this way? I am not sure, but I have a feeling that he wanted me to choose acting as a profession. Not teaching.

oj

 

Dear Satchi,

Indeed I was blessed to have a teacher like him. You don't need to possess a sharp memory to remember such a person. It's just not possible to forget him.

Your story of Mr. or Ms. Wind reminds me about another Utpal Dutt tale. Once again, it was Mr. Dutt's class. He began to talk about sound. And then he explained to us that sound traveled in waves. So, we were constantly surrounded by these waves he told us. "This classroom is jam packed with waves. Aren't we lucky that we cannot see them?" he asked finally. "Just imagine how you could have felt if you were able to visualise the sound waves floating towards you or the ones floating away from you, or the ones which a moving bus generates. You might be scared to death if you could actually see sound and not just hear it!!"

There are so many tales I often recall about him, each one a classic by its own right! Something must have happened to him in later life. I did get to see him a few times and bring up the school days. He refused to take part in the conversation. Once, he even told me that he didn't remember anything about his teaching life. I didn't believe him. He remembered everything far more than I did.

I don't know why he disowned the magic of his teaching skills.

oj-da

 

Dear Srama,

I am somewhat surprised (happily so) that this post has attracted so many comments. Just goes to show how much we loved our teachers back at school. I am almost convinced that the innocent love students shower on their teachers at school don't continue beyond school leaving. Once you enter college and university, you do still love your teachers, or at least some of them, but it is a different kind of love. I came across many great teachers at the higher education stage, but the innocence was gone. Nothing like school life. School teachers stay with you forever.

In this connection, I recall another teacher. Her name was Sarama Roychoudhuri. She used to teach us Bengali composition. My Bengali wasn't all that good till I met her in school. The love with which she taught us is simply unforgettable. People say I write reasonably good Bengali. If they are right, I owe the ability entirely to her. I remember an incident that took place during her class. There was a boy in the class who was exceptionally naughty and noisy as well. She scolded him repeatedly and asked him to keep quiet. But he was not curable. Then she lost her patience and asked him to leave the class and stand outside.The boy got up and walked over to the door ready to leave. As soon as he did that, she scolded him again. "Where are you going?" she demanded. He was taken aback. "You asked me to leave the classroom Madam," he replied. Upon which she looked at him even more angrily and pointed towards his seat. "Go back to your seat and keep quiet," she commanded!! Can you match this? I can't.

I was lucky to have come across her in my adult life as well. She lived in an apartment in a complex that I often visited. I suddenly noticed her one day and almost ran up to her and told her who I was. She had aged considerably and could not recognize me. But I told her that I was eternally grateful to her for helping me improve my writing skills in Bengali. She was not convinced. "How could I? I only taught grammar and composition. I never taught literature." I insisted though and soon I began to receive phone calls from her. She called me whenever she came across an article or the other in local dailies that I often write in Bengali. She praised me quite genuinely. I found it difficult to make her understand that what she was praising was merely her own creation.

Are you familiar with Tagore's novel The Lat Poem? Towards the end of the novel there is a poem that the heroine dedicates to the hero, after telling him that she was not meant for him. There is a line in the poem that says: Whatever I had given you were at best gifts I had received from you!

Sarama-di passed away a few years ago. I miss her too.

oj-da