With Regards.
Love and respect to all my teachers who spend some precious
time of their lives helping me shape what am today. Each one had their own
lessons, some helped me earn my living some helped me love my life. Some taught
me what was reality and some showed ways to dream. They shared history of the
good and the bad kings. The long tales of civilizations and how the globe
falls flat on the Atlas. The map pointing and how the economics made one
country look richer than the other. The first litmus paper turning purple and the
pendulum ball swinging wrong they all had some lessons in stored. Years do fly.
The last few years of school till college almost galloped; exams followed by
exams. I graduated.
The pass and the fail. The first time I failed I was in
class III. The report card had some number underlined with red ink. I had no
idea of what it was. Like many other ordinary facts had showed the card to my bench
partner, as it was very new to me. She was experienced and explained me. That was
when I touched a sense of deep fear. It must have been followed by depression
that caught me. Was too small to have related these heavy words then but it
must have been the state of mind. I failed in Maths. Parents, class teachers,
maths teachers they all played their parts to make this subject take a center
stage of my academic life later. But that red ink taught me the word fail and the
time taught me cope with failure. I failed small and big, many a times after
that. The maiden one remained special.
The time and the table. They together as timetable chased me
from school till college. Later realized office gives you only a chair and you
curve your timetable. The special reminders five minutes before the exam closes
till the unwanted reminders of Microsoft meeting schedules sound all the same.
Little more into this learning curve of time. Money and machine also pairs up
well, but the table is the best. Over time realized the reading and the dining
tables are the most fulling destination of simple living. I was brought up in
non-digital era in a small town. The Newspaper – the one in real paper prints use
to reach my town around noon. The distribution cycle was lengthy. No matter
what, dot at fifteen minutes past two, the folded newspaper used to hit our
front door. I was the first one to rush. Friday’s were special. It had a weekly
magazine packed along. I only had fifteen minutes to read the favorite serial
story before I pushed the cycle paddle for my tuition classes. The magazine
laid on my reading table all through the week. The rush to digest delicacy started
from those Fridays.
The library and the lobby. My missionary schooling had a
huge focus on library. Noddy to Nancy, I meet them there. Feluda and Sherlock
came over in later years. Like many in school days I turned up to library to
flip through Illustrated Weekly and carefully avoided Reader’s Digest. Library
taught to communicate in silence. Read beyond books and to feel beyond words.
The librarian of the college was a living house of big data, batch by batch,
name by name he indexed identity. Often the person who was an informer to let
you know the GPS of the friend you are looking for. Every one said visit
library and avoid lobby. It was not so good a word to start with. Realizations
later was different. Unlike library it has no boundary but it binds you for a
purpose. I learned and unlearned this word. It is so important we learn it the
right way and use it for good cause. There is no force that equates the
strength of collective. There is no view called neutral.
You have choice to pick. Teachers in life preaches you to
take decision and circumstances of life teaches you to reach outcomes. Library
and Lobby often help to overcome challenges. Time offers you both moments of fulfillment
on the table and often the empty top… And to fail is not a bad thing in the
walk of life. But just in case if all roads seem to have ended that’s the moment
you have something called U-Turn!
‘Never Give Up’ a spirit I owe to my small town – Durgapur,
a silent teacher of my life.