Grew up together,
promised to keep in touch,
grew old touching screens.
Tag: friendship
Chapter Fifty: The Final Chance
Praveena carried on, sharing her knowledge and experience with the children who came her way. She painted whenever she felt like it and grew as an artist.
She showcased her paintings in exhibitions, and people bought her work with interest that surprised her. In all of the exhibitions she attended, she displayed the drawing of the three stallions. But despite a lot of people offering to buy it, she remained reluctant to sell.
She and Ms Marrie met now and then in The Green Leaf restaurant. They spoke of things that bothered them, and Ms Marrie would often give Praveena some handy tips.
On her twenty-eighth birthday, Praveena eagerly opened the letter she had received. Ms Marrie and Anil were her only well wishers. Ms Marrie had called early in the morning, and the letter had to be from Anil. And sure enough, it was a hand-written letter.
Dearest Praveena,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am well too. Life in Bangalore is so boring. I am thinking of shifting to Chennai, and stay closer to you if it’s alright with you.
How is your life? I know you would have changed a lot from the last time we spoke. I know the lonely years have troubled you, but remember, you are not alone. I’ll always be with you.
I really hope you do take care of yourself. I will be coming over to Chennai tomorrow and want to talk to you. Meet me in “The Green Leaf” at one o’clock.
Please do come.
Anil.
Praveena read and reread the letter. Anil was coming to Chennai? After such a long time? She couldn’t understand why. And why had he mentioned the place and time in the letter? He could have just called her, or an SMS would have been enough, she wondered confused. She felt a bit reluctant to meet him. What would they talk about?
She waited for Anil at The Green Leaf restaurant. Ever since her father had died, their friendship gradually diminished. ‘Then why’ her inner voice was curious ‘does he want to meet you?’
Anil came into the restaurant and walked over to her. He hadn’t changed much. His hair was unkempt as it had always been, and he wore blue jeans and a blue full sleeved shirt folded half-way.
“Hey,” he said taking the seat opposite her, smiling through his trimmed boxed beard.
“Hi,” she smiled broadly. “It’s so good to see you again,” she said earnestly. Seeing Anil again brought back old memories, bringing a familiar smile on her face. “how’ve you been?” she asked.
“Good, good” he replied, nodding. “and you?” he raised his eyebrows.
Praveena nodded. ‘Alright’. Anil nodded as well.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” she asked crossing her arms on the table.
“Oh,” Anil hesitated. “Er – about starting that self-help, recovery thing,” he waved his arms casually, “remember?”
“What about it, Anil?” Praveena asked exasperatedly.
“Let’s start the organization,” Anil said rubbing his hands together looking excited all of a sudden. “I’m bored with my job,” and seeing her raised eyebrows, he added, “you wanted to do this too. We’ll get it started,” he shrugged.
Praveena thought about it. He was right. She had wanted to do this, but she wasn’t sure if now was a good time. But she also didn’t know when a good time was. She could work in the institution and teach at the same time. That wouldn’t be a problem. She wondered why the thought had never occurred to her earlier. ‘Because you had no one to talk to,’ the voice in her head helped, and Praveena agreed silently. With Anil back at her side, they could set this up together. Her dream would become reality.
Anil watched in silence as she waged the war in her head. He had seen her do it before and knew better than to interrupt.
“Alright Anil,” she sighed. “Let’s do this,” she smiled widely. After a long time, she felt the same excitement she had had years before when the thought first hatched in her head. “Thanks, for coming,” she smiled at him.
They sipped on their juice in silence, and once finished, she was about to stand, when Anil stopped her, “Praveena?” She looked questioningly at him. “One more thing,” he paused looking serious.
“What is it Anil?” she asked leaning forward in her chair.
“I tried to tell you a lot of times…” he stalled shaking his head. He swallowed. And then, he smiled brightly. “Praveena,” he said, looking deep into her eyes, at the way her pupils dilated in curiosity, “Will you marry me?”
Chapter Forty Eight: Duties
Praveena cherished her experience teaching in her own school. On her second day, she decorated her room. She covered the table in a white spread and placed a photo of Niveda, Anil, and herself. That picture was a reminder of the evil of drugs and its effect on wonderful relationships. She had also brought the painting she had done in college, the one with three stallions basking undisturbed in a valley. She stuck the painting on the wall behind the table so that it was the first thing any one would see when they entered the room. The rest of the wall, she left bare, unsure what to add. She had planned to collect paintings and writings from her students and display them as an exhibition one day.
Kareem had asked her to fill in as a temporary art teacher. The current teacher had left on a maternity leave. And so, Praveena met with her first class, the third year students. After a warm welcome, she asked them all to paint whatever came to their mind. At the end of the forty five minutes class, only a handful of students had finished their drawings.
“Alright, everyone.” she called as the bell signalled end of class. “leave your drawings on my desk, you can continue tomorrow.” she clapped her hands to get their attention. One by one, she saw the students examining their drawings critically as they came up to submit it. Praveena gathered all the paintings and was about to lock them away when she saw a girl, too small for her age, still poring over her drawing at the back of the class. Praveena went to her and stood over her, watching. The little girl looked up, her eyes wide in fear, at Praveena.
Praveena smiled at her, “That’s a beautiful house,” she complimented, “shall we continue tomorrow?” she held out a hand, and the girl handed over her incomplete drawing. “Thank you,” Praveena smiled. She went over to the cupboard and locked the paintings away. She then turned to the students who were all on their feet. “See you tomorrow, girls” She waved a hand at them. As she turned to leave, she noticed Mr Andrew on the doorway.
Praveena swallowed. She hadn’t expected him to be here. Mr Andrew’s face reflected her shock. “Praveena?” he asked incredulously. “you are the new art teacher?” he shook his head in disbelief.
Praveena forced a smile. “Yes, Sir” she said. “How are you?” she inquired more out of courtesy than of concern.
“Fine,” he said in a flourish. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to teach.” He walked past Praveena into the class room and Praveena left as soon as she could.
She was having lunch in her room when there was a curt knock on her door. She opened the door to Ms Marrie. “Hey, Praveena!” she beamed. “How’s work?”
Praveena smiled and gestured Ms Marrie into the room. Ms Marrie took the new chair Praveena had requested. “So, how is work?” Ms Marrie repeated.
“Ah, it’s great Miss!” Praveena gleefully replied taking her seat, facing Ms Marrie. “I love it,” she said, “but, I didn’t expect to run into Mr Andrew.” she sighed.
“Ah, yes” Ms Marrie smiled apologetically, “that, I forgot to tell you.” she smiled innocently. Praveena smiled, shaking her head. “he hasn’t changed much, has he?” she observed.
“Somethings never change,” Ms Marrie nodded.
“Are any of the old teachers still here?” Praveena asked tentatively, making Ms Marrie laugh.
“Selima left about a year after you finished,” smiling at the look of relief on Praveena’s face. “and the others too have left. It’s only Andrew and me now.” She finished laughing.
Anil called Praveena on Saturday morning.
“Hey, Praveena” he spoke softly. “how are you?”
Taken unexpected by his call, she replied delightedly. “I’m great! Sounds like MBA has softened you a bit,” she laughed teasingly.
“Maybe,” he laughed too. He had called to check on her and her experience teaching. They chatted away happily for about thirty minutes.
When she disconnected the call, Praveena felt her happiness double. She smiled to herself.
As months flew by, Praveena gained a lot of friends in the form of students. She was the teacher who respected them and agreed with them when they complained about the overload of homework.
Praveena felt like a child herself when she was with her students.
One day, during lunch, the little girl from the third grade came over to her room.
“Hello, Helen” Praveena greeted her, escorting the girl into her room and helping her sit. Praveena noticed Helen’s huge, black, bloodshot eyes. “What can I do for you, Helen?” she asked gently kneeling down in front of the girl.
All of a sudden, the girl began weeping and shaking uncontrollably. Praveena hadn’t expected this. Trying not to panic, she made an effort to console the girl. She hugged her, stroking her head reassuringly.
“Helen,” she spoke softly. “What happened?” She looked at the girl who stared back at her, eyes streaming. “It’s — my father,” she stammered, difficult to speak.
“What happened to him?” Praveena asked patiently.
Helen shook her small head vigorously. “Helen…” Praveena urged quietly.
The girl sniffed away tears, trying to speak. “Dad,” she began “drinks every day and beats Mom asking for money. He hit me today,” Praveena watched helplessly as the girl’s eyes swelled with tears.
That evening, Praveena went home determined to help the girl. She wanted to talk to the girl’s father and explain the impact of his behaviour on his child.
“Pa,” Praveena spoke to her father as he came home that night. “Hmm?” he looked at her. His expression grew worried as he saw Praveena’s disturbed face.
Praveena told him of the day’s events. Kamal listened with a rising sense of dread. He didn’t like where this was going. “I’m going to talk to the father,” Praveena said with an air of finality, “and I want you to come with me,” she added and paused for his reply. She was ready to argue with him if he disagreed.
To her utter surprise, “I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” he said and left for his room.
Praveena stood in the living room, dazed.
Alone on Holidays
I might be late to talk about being alone for the holidays, but I just felt it.
I’m not one who needs someone by her side to feel wanted, or important, or significant.
I’m fine with watching The Abominable Bride alone on a Friday night. I’m happy with watching Friends with my Sunday brunch. And it never mattered to me that the Friday was Christmas, or the Sunday was Valentines Day. Because for me, they are just holidays.
But as I saw my friends, colleagues, and almost everyone else I know go home for the holidays, or ride to the city of alcohol to celebrate New Year’s Eve, I felt strange.
Strange — not lonely. I will never accept I’m lonely when I’m alone. I know the difference between the two and revere personal space. I wasn’t lonely, but I felt so “ungrown-up.”
Everyone I knew wanted to spend time with their spouses, children, and parents. When did everyone around me grow up so fast?
Now that I think of it, almost all of my acquaintances and friends are couples. They are either already married with kids on the way, or are just about to get married.
As for the single ones I know, they are too generous to barmaids to grow up.
Wondering about the strangeness of it all, I realized the people who went home to their spouses and kids at 6pm are the same ones who once accompanied me when I pulled an all-nighter. They were the first to volunteer to stay back and clean up after a party, they were the ones who’d take up customer calls from a different time zone and conduct midnight webinars. And now, by 6 pm, they’re gone from the office.
But I’m still here. And I still feel strange. But that doesn’t stop me from munching on some fried snack, drinking a cup of coffee, and laughing at Friends while nodding my approval at “Joey doesn’t share food.”
Chapter Forty Four: More Reflections
“A teacher?” Praveena repeated unbelieving. She had never thought of becoming a teacher. She had spent all of her student life hating teachers in general — except a handful, like Ms Marrie and James. Her prejudice had prevented the idea of becoming one. But now that Ms Marrie had mentioned it, Praveena began to wonder if teaching would be the profession for her.
Ms Marrie was looking at her, waiting for a response.
“Er –” began Praveena. This was confusing. She hadn’t expected this. “I’ve never considered it, Miss” she admitted. She didn’t want to sound like she was declining Ms Marrie’s idea, but she wanted to convey her thoughts properly as well.
“Why not?” Ms Marrie asked surprised. She rested her right hand on her folded left one, waiting for Praveena to explain her mind.
Praveena hesitated. This was tougher than she had anticipated. “Er – because – I don’t like most teachers.” she smiled apologetically.
Ms Marrie laughed silently. “So did all teachers when they were students. But what exactly is it that stops you from considering it?” ‘Damn,’ thought Praveena. Ms Marrie had always had the right words to extract anything out of her mind. Praveena smiled widely. She had decided to surrender.
“I’m scared my students would hate me.” She said, ‘there I said it. That’s what you wanted, right?’ her inner voice piped up.
“Exactly!” Ms Marrie said victoriously. “so, don’t be the kind of teacher you would hate.” she said simply, shrugging.
Praveena stared at Ms Marrie, completely lost. “Think about it, Praveena. You wanted a break. I’m saying teaching could give you that and would also teach you a lot. Think about it and then decide. But please don’t feel forced or influenced,” she finished gently. Praveena remained silent as they paid for their cappuccinos.
Bidding goodbye to Ms Marrie, Praveena took the bus that went in the opposite direction from Ms Marrie’s place. When she got home it was a late in the evening. Wandering into the kitchen wondering about dinner, she planned to make chapattis, her father’s favourite.
As she folded the flour into water, Ms Marrie’s advice kept bothering her. Ms Marrie seemed to think that she’d make a good teacher. Why had she never thought of it herself? ‘ ou always thought teaching was not for you without even understanding why,’ She nodded in approval at her inner voice.
Now that she thought about it, she began to consider teaching. What would she teach? She was only a psychology graduate. ‘Alright,’ she thought. ‘Even if I were to teach psychology in some school, would they accept an undergraduate? Aren’t teachers supposed to be highly qualified?’ She stopped mixing the dough and crossed her arms across her chest. She couldn’t possibly be a teacher. ‘Besides,’ she thought, ‘why would I want to be a teacher in the first place?’
She kept mulling over this question, forgetting the half finished chapattis. Covering the bowl of dough with a plate, she left the kitchen, her mind racing.
Praveena went over to the living room and lowered herself on the couch. She crouched in a comfortable position, thinking.
‘What is a teacher’s purpose?’ she asked herself. Her inner voice replied smugly, ‘teaching!’ Praveena cracked her knuckles. ‘Teaching, yes. Teaching a subject’ she smiled to herself. ‘That’s it?’ she challenged her inner voice. ‘For a typical teacher, yes’ her inner voice responded wisely. ‘But it’s not so for teachers like Ms Marrie and James.’
Praveena smiled wider now. She agreed with her inner voice. The two teachers she respected the most, the two people who, according to her, did complete justice to the role of a teacher. ‘Why?’ her inner voice asked teasingly. “because they didn’t just teach the subject, they helped me and a lot others understand themselves better.” Praveena exclaimed, irritated with her inner voice for testing her.
‘That’s why you should be a teacher.’ her inner voice ended jubilantly. Praveena understood. She was the girl who was upset because some aimless person had given up on himself and his beliefs. She had expected people to be better individuals. That doesn’t come easily. Someone has to instil that in young children. That’s what she would do if she became a teacher. She would help her students realize their potential and help them build a better society to live in. She wanted her students to help fellow countrymen. They would have a society that sympathizes with other people’s problems.
‘But,’ her inner voice broke in gently. ‘Remember, we live in a society that doesn’t want to he helped. They don’t want to live better. They prefer the sewers and try to pull in the others as well.’
‘Yes,’ Praveena agreed with her inner voice. ‘and that’s why we need to teach it to children, and not adults. This generation is gone to waste, all we can do is help the next.’
‘What’s the use?’ the inner voice asked exasperated. ‘you are just one person, you can’t change the world alone.’ Praveena agreed. Her inner voice had a realistic point, ‘but I don’t want to change the world. I know I can’t do that. I will be happy if I could change just one person’s world. Knowing that I helped one student lead a better life is enough to make me happy.’ she thought earnestly.
Her inner voice said no more. Praveena knew it was the right thing to do. She was aware that her beliefs would be tested, but she would overcome them. She wasn’t the same worried little girl she had been in school. She remembered what Ms Marrie had told her all those years ago: she could either shun away from the society that continuously threatens her behaviour, or she could face society with the satisfaction of changing at least one person.
She had chosen a way.
The Chaos Within 