The class doubled up with laughter, holding up their tummies. With each stroke, I made the caricature a lot funnier than intended. And the class mirrored my move with a loud uproar followed by a banging of their fists on the bench and creating a ruckus. I turn back and do a dramatic bow for the crowd, but a sudden hush falls over them. I look up and see them all staring towards the doorway. I dread moving my head sideways but eventually I do and to my dismay I find her, standing at the doorway glaring me down with her fierce look. I look up to her but words fail me. The chalk from my hand falls out of my hand and a loud THUD…
I wake up with a jerk, my heart racing at the speed of 72 beats per second. “What a stupid dream was that”, I said out loud. Out of nowhere did Swarna Mam come to my dream and then…it hit me! HARD! A sudden realization began to dawn and I fell right back onto the bed. The rotating blades of the fan resembling the churning in my heart. “I can never get out of that incident. “
After a quick shower, I sit down for my breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. As is customary I call up my parents and relegate them on the day’s plans. Their son’s activities take priority and we hit on some casual banter. My whatsapp icon pops up, showing 120 messages as soon as I switch on the data. Being an employed member of a leading MNC does have its side effects the most being losing out on catching up with friends. The mostly dormant school group now kept popping up with messages. Some important nation saving discussion was going on about who was the most notorious one in those days. Deep down, somewhere I was filled with pleasant warmth as I thought back to those beautiful days. The last time I had visited was to receive my “ Best outgoing student of the year” with the crowd applauding , my back benchers hooting along with the applauds and my mom trying and failing to smile through her tears and me smiling into the camera with a smug look on my face.
Prolonged discussions later, we decided to hit the road and walk down that treaded path! This was my day off and we decided to catch up for old time’s sakes. This time however, it wasn’t a road trip or a casual hang out joint. We were revisiting our Alma Matar after nearly 12 years. The very thought of it gave me the sort of unsettled excitement of a kid having seen a candy. On the way, I picked up manasi, later joined by amith and vishal. This was it. We were finally going to visit our school.
The clear blue sky making for an awesome weather and the air merry with our reunion and our hearts in sync with the ringing of “ Mustafa Mustafa “ in our ears, we sped on the highway, diverting cars and jumping signals. Made faces at random strangers and set a dog off in a barking frenzy and we managed to reach the place amid all the chaos. What greeted us was unexplainable in many ways. The structure boring the words D.A.V greeted us with majesticity and warmth. Vishal did the dramatic performance of going down on the knees to kiss the ground. “Aloha!” he screamed. “Aloha!“ and in we piled, one after the other, to the place which had seen our childhood, our sorrows, our happiness and above all the incidents which made us who we are.
As we entered through the gates, the strangest things began to happen. We seemed to be on a time machine which transported us back and set the clock at 12 years before. I looked around and was frazzled by what I saw. This was exactly how I last saw this place. That tree which always gave us the flowers for the bio lab experiments, the ground rough and unkempt still reverberating with the sounds of our footfalls as we tackled one another in basketball. I turned around and my friends mirrored my reaction.
“What’s happening?” asked Mansi, concern etched on her forehead. “We are in a magical land” eyes wide open, and hands positioned like that of a wizards. Amith was always the one to kid with. “Oh please! Dudes. It’s just our mind playing tricks on us. Now please, let’s get moving people”, he said rolling his eyes at us. Vishal ever the skeptical one was voicing his concerns when we were dragged along by Amith. And it all came back to me. As we walked past the sand pits, I could still hear the cheerful laughter of ours. And the one time when I had scraped a knee and my dad had to carry me all the way home. I smiled thinking how much we had changed. The corridors were empty and we made our way, past classrooms, past dedicated teachers holding the class’s peace and giving us dubious glances as we made our way. Approaching us was our school head mistress that we fondly referred to as “Our mentor”. ‘Namaste Mam’ we cried in sync, just like how we did when we were kids. However she didn’t show any sign of recognition we expected. She acknowledged our wish with a curt nod and with an angry look she spoke, “What are you doing outside, roaming the corridors while classes are going on? A look of puzzlement was exchanged and we were completely fabled by her recount. “But mam…” I began only to be cut off with, “Go to your classes now. Or I shall call for your parents for bunking classes”. We were utterly shocked and started panicking with this new interrogation. We didn’t understand what was happening. Since we didn’t want to annoy her anymore, we turned around and suddenly I remembered the dream. That incident. That day. It all came back to me in perfect clarity. The fuzzy images started to clear and the first rays of sunshine shone through the dark clouds. I summoned the three of them aside and spoke in a whisper. “Guys! Do you remember our swarna mam, who used to teach us maths during our 8th grade?” A look of recognition washed over their washes and they nodded for me to proceed. “Remember that day when I drew a caricature of her on the board and how upset I made her that day? She came in my dream yesterday. The same incident as though it had happened yesterday. It has always haunted me with a fierce velocity and no matter how many years have passed I still can’t get over that. And now I see what’s happening. We are being brought back to the times in our 8th grades. Probably this is my once chance at redemption. To erase off my past and begin my future with a profound sense of pride.” “But how can we? We are adults now. How will she recognize you?” asked mansi with that concerned crease forming her forehead. “Dumbo! Don’t you see it? We are still 8th graders in their eyes.” “Um...that explains our mentor’s aggressive reaction”. With a new found excitement, like we were about to get our hands on the treasure and hit jackpot, we hurried to our 8th grade classrooms. The teacher had not yet arrived and we took our respective places. It was all the same. Our belongings were placed against our benches and we looked around like a kid in Disney land. Only, we were no longer the kids there.
And then I saw it. The drawing. It was not meant to mock her, merely a show time. Something to get the attraction of the crowd. I could hear murmurs and giggles, some of my ex-classmates pointing to that caricature on the board. With a determined look, I got up. I was made to redo my past and I will. With a resolve and motive, I marched towards the board and quickly took the eraser to clear it off. Off the board. Off my past. And lead me towards redemption. My stomach did somersaults as I thought of how I could put this behind me and walk on with pride. But fate intervened and my short lived fantasy died to my very dismay when I saw swarna mam walking inside the classroom. I had barely managed to clear when she had caught me red handed. I saw conflicting emotions cross her features and the entire class fell into a hush, pin drop silence. No. this can’t be the end. I was supposed to erase it off. This is all going wrong. A thousand thoughts swarmed around my mind as I stood there dumbstruck oblivious to my surroundings.
She marched towards me, her eyes shining like the fire. Placed the books on the desk with a loud thud. My knees started wobbling and tears threatened me. I dared not look at her face. I was ashamed of myself. I thought I could redo the past. How silly can I get? “Look up, Nivas !” she said. With deliberative moves I slowly made myself to face her, her towering structure looking intimidating. I saw the faint traces of a smile on her lips, and her fierce rage was replaced with a mischievousness I didn’t know existed until then. “Now, you made a mistake her”, she said pointing to the drawing. “It has be like this”. Saying so she corrected few strands of her long hair. A round of giggles passed and she turned around and said, “How does this look now?” The class burst out laughing and she joined in along with the crowd. Never before had I felt this grateful to anybody in my life. I called her out and said, “Mam! Am sorry!”. She waved it off with her hands and we joined the crowd the air ringing with our cheerful merriness. As we made our way out of school, I thought back to how much I had changed since that incident. I learnt not to hurt the feelings or sentiments and above all, Swarna mam changed me in a lot of ways unknown. We can never actually redo our past, but it is our past which makes us who we are. And I owe mine to Swarna Mam, the legend who taught me the meaning of life.
I wake up with a jerk, my heart racing at the speed of 72 beats per second. “What a stupid dream was that”, I said out loud. Out of nowhere did Swarna Mam come to my dream and then…it hit me! HARD! A sudden realization began to dawn and I fell right back onto the bed. The rotating blades of the fan resembling the churning in my heart. “I can never get out of that incident. “
After a quick shower, I sit down for my breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. As is customary I call up my parents and relegate them on the day’s plans. Their son’s activities take priority and we hit on some casual banter. My whatsapp icon pops up, showing 120 messages as soon as I switch on the data. Being an employed member of a leading MNC does have its side effects the most being losing out on catching up with friends. The mostly dormant school group now kept popping up with messages. Some important nation saving discussion was going on about who was the most notorious one in those days. Deep down, somewhere I was filled with pleasant warmth as I thought back to those beautiful days. The last time I had visited was to receive my “ Best outgoing student of the year” with the crowd applauding , my back benchers hooting along with the applauds and my mom trying and failing to smile through her tears and me smiling into the camera with a smug look on my face.
Prolonged discussions later, we decided to hit the road and walk down that treaded path! This was my day off and we decided to catch up for old time’s sakes. This time however, it wasn’t a road trip or a casual hang out joint. We were revisiting our Alma Matar after nearly 12 years. The very thought of it gave me the sort of unsettled excitement of a kid having seen a candy. On the way, I picked up manasi, later joined by amith and vishal. This was it. We were finally going to visit our school.
The clear blue sky making for an awesome weather and the air merry with our reunion and our hearts in sync with the ringing of “ Mustafa Mustafa “ in our ears, we sped on the highway, diverting cars and jumping signals. Made faces at random strangers and set a dog off in a barking frenzy and we managed to reach the place amid all the chaos. What greeted us was unexplainable in many ways. The structure boring the words D.A.V greeted us with majesticity and warmth. Vishal did the dramatic performance of going down on the knees to kiss the ground. “Aloha!” he screamed. “Aloha!“ and in we piled, one after the other, to the place which had seen our childhood, our sorrows, our happiness and above all the incidents which made us who we are.
As we entered through the gates, the strangest things began to happen. We seemed to be on a time machine which transported us back and set the clock at 12 years before. I looked around and was frazzled by what I saw. This was exactly how I last saw this place. That tree which always gave us the flowers for the bio lab experiments, the ground rough and unkempt still reverberating with the sounds of our footfalls as we tackled one another in basketball. I turned around and my friends mirrored my reaction.
“What’s happening?” asked Mansi, concern etched on her forehead. “We are in a magical land” eyes wide open, and hands positioned like that of a wizards. Amith was always the one to kid with. “Oh please! Dudes. It’s just our mind playing tricks on us. Now please, let’s get moving people”, he said rolling his eyes at us. Vishal ever the skeptical one was voicing his concerns when we were dragged along by Amith. And it all came back to me. As we walked past the sand pits, I could still hear the cheerful laughter of ours. And the one time when I had scraped a knee and my dad had to carry me all the way home. I smiled thinking how much we had changed. The corridors were empty and we made our way, past classrooms, past dedicated teachers holding the class’s peace and giving us dubious glances as we made our way. Approaching us was our school head mistress that we fondly referred to as “Our mentor”. ‘Namaste Mam’ we cried in sync, just like how we did when we were kids. However she didn’t show any sign of recognition we expected. She acknowledged our wish with a curt nod and with an angry look she spoke, “What are you doing outside, roaming the corridors while classes are going on? A look of puzzlement was exchanged and we were completely fabled by her recount. “But mam…” I began only to be cut off with, “Go to your classes now. Or I shall call for your parents for bunking classes”. We were utterly shocked and started panicking with this new interrogation. We didn’t understand what was happening. Since we didn’t want to annoy her anymore, we turned around and suddenly I remembered the dream. That incident. That day. It all came back to me in perfect clarity. The fuzzy images started to clear and the first rays of sunshine shone through the dark clouds. I summoned the three of them aside and spoke in a whisper. “Guys! Do you remember our swarna mam, who used to teach us maths during our 8th grade?” A look of recognition washed over their washes and they nodded for me to proceed. “Remember that day when I drew a caricature of her on the board and how upset I made her that day? She came in my dream yesterday. The same incident as though it had happened yesterday. It has always haunted me with a fierce velocity and no matter how many years have passed I still can’t get over that. And now I see what’s happening. We are being brought back to the times in our 8th grades. Probably this is my once chance at redemption. To erase off my past and begin my future with a profound sense of pride.” “But how can we? We are adults now. How will she recognize you?” asked mansi with that concerned crease forming her forehead. “Dumbo! Don’t you see it? We are still 8th graders in their eyes.” “Um...that explains our mentor’s aggressive reaction”. With a new found excitement, like we were about to get our hands on the treasure and hit jackpot, we hurried to our 8th grade classrooms. The teacher had not yet arrived and we took our respective places. It was all the same. Our belongings were placed against our benches and we looked around like a kid in Disney land. Only, we were no longer the kids there.
And then I saw it. The drawing. It was not meant to mock her, merely a show time. Something to get the attraction of the crowd. I could hear murmurs and giggles, some of my ex-classmates pointing to that caricature on the board. With a determined look, I got up. I was made to redo my past and I will. With a resolve and motive, I marched towards the board and quickly took the eraser to clear it off. Off the board. Off my past. And lead me towards redemption. My stomach did somersaults as I thought of how I could put this behind me and walk on with pride. But fate intervened and my short lived fantasy died to my very dismay when I saw swarna mam walking inside the classroom. I had barely managed to clear when she had caught me red handed. I saw conflicting emotions cross her features and the entire class fell into a hush, pin drop silence. No. this can’t be the end. I was supposed to erase it off. This is all going wrong. A thousand thoughts swarmed around my mind as I stood there dumbstruck oblivious to my surroundings.
She marched towards me, her eyes shining like the fire. Placed the books on the desk with a loud thud. My knees started wobbling and tears threatened me. I dared not look at her face. I was ashamed of myself. I thought I could redo the past. How silly can I get? “Look up, Nivas !” she said. With deliberative moves I slowly made myself to face her, her towering structure looking intimidating. I saw the faint traces of a smile on her lips, and her fierce rage was replaced with a mischievousness I didn’t know existed until then. “Now, you made a mistake her”, she said pointing to the drawing. “It has be like this”. Saying so she corrected few strands of her long hair. A round of giggles passed and she turned around and said, “How does this look now?” The class burst out laughing and she joined in along with the crowd. Never before had I felt this grateful to anybody in my life. I called her out and said, “Mam! Am sorry!”. She waved it off with her hands and we joined the crowd the air ringing with our cheerful merriness. As we made our way out of school, I thought back to how much I had changed since that incident. I learnt not to hurt the feelings or sentiments and above all, Swarna mam changed me in a lot of ways unknown. We can never actually redo our past, but it is our past which makes us who we are. And I owe mine to Swarna Mam, the legend who taught me the meaning of life.