Tag: teachers

Chapter Forty Three: A Suggestion

Early on Monday morning, Praveena reached Chennai her mind temporarily clear. By the time she reached home, the sun had risen and begun to scorch the earth. Her father hadn’t returned from Kerala and after a confirmation call that he would return that night, Praveena washed and made herself some toast and tea.

Curling up on the couch, she switched on the television. Her favourite cartoon was on and she sat through the morning pampering her backside. A complete rest for the body and mind, she convinced herself.

A couple of hours through, she fell asleep. She had felt her eyes drooping and had made no effort to stay awake. She was too tired to even go up to her room.

She woke up to growling stomach at three o’clock in the afternoon. She sat up drowsily and sucked on her dry mouth. After another alarm from her stomach, she rose, stretching herself.

She went to the kitchen, rubbing her eyes to clear her vision. One look at the messy kitchen and she decided she wan’t in the mood for cooking. She made left over bread toast. Once she had silenced her stomach, she had a sudden impulse to clean the kitchen.

She collected all unwashed dishes into the sink, and arranged all the other items back into place. She washed all the dishes sparkly clean and after replacing them in their racks, stood back to enjoy the result of her work.

The kitchen looked much neater than the way her father maintained it. She smiled to herself. As she turned to go back to the couch, she felt a searing pain in her back. As she painfully walked over to the couch, she chided herself for pulling on much work on herself. She slumped heavily on the couch swearing to herself, ‘I’m never doing that again.’

After a typical day at home, Praveena had had enough. She thought of her mother who had spent her days at home doing household chores. If that’s what people expected her to do in future, she decided she was better off without any of those. She wondered about it when her phone rang unexpectedly.

It was Ms Marrie. Praveena frowned at the phone, as it continued to ring. Why was Ms Marrie calling her? It was always she who made the first call. An emergency?

Perplexed, she answered. “Hello?” she said doubtful.

“Hi Praveena, it’s Marrie.” said Ms Marrie’s voice enthusiastically. “Did I disturb you?”

Ms Marrie had taken Praveena by surprise. “No, – er – no, Miss.” Praveena stammered, not sure how to answer.

“Can I meet you, Praveena?” Ms Marrie asked hopefully, like a child pleading with her mother for permission to go play outside.

“Yes, Miss. Sure.” Praveena replied courteously. “Where?”

“Thanks, how about “The Latte” in an hour?” she asked hopefully.

“Sure, I’ll be there, Miss.” Praveena smiled forgetting yet again, that Ms Marrie couldn’t see her.

Praveena sat staring at her phone. Ms Marrie hadn’t sounded disappointed, she hadn’t sounded distressed or depressed. Then why, Praveena wondered, did she suddenly want to meet her? ‘Let’s find out!’

Forty five minutes later, when Praveena entered “The Latte,” she saw Ms Marrie at the farthest corner, reading the menu. She looked just the way did during Praveena’s school days. She had pulled her hair back in a pony and wore a purple sari that matched the white watch on her right wrist. “The Latte” was a popular coffee shop known for its fully glassed walls with a 360 degree view of the world outside. Sunlight streamed inside and as Praveena walked over to Ms Marrie, she noticed the circles of reflective light bouncing off the ceiling.

“Hello, Miss.” she smiled. Ms Marrie looked up from the menu with a wide smile that Praveena hadn’t seen in a long time. Ms Marrie gestured her to take a seat. She did. “You seem happy, Miss” Praveena observed, smiling. She felt blissful looking at the glow on Ms Marrie’s face. She spoke with a new ease and comfort. It was freedom, as if the teacher-student barrier between them had come crashing down. It was as if they were two friends, randomly meeting in a coffee shop. Praveena could understand the feeling.

Ms Marrie nodded silently. She ordered two cappuccinos, which arrived quickly. Praveena waited. She knew now that Ms Marrie hadn’t called her to discuss personal sorrows. This was more of a friendly meeting. She could tell from Ms Marrie’s behaviour.

Sipping her cappuccino, Ms Marrie smiled at Praveena. “How was your graduation day?” she asked unexpectedly.

“Hmm…” Praveena hesitated, “it was alright, but it was tiring.” She sighed heavily shaking her head.

Ms Marrie nodded understandingly. “How was Prathap’s speech?” she asked a tiny smile playing on her lips.

“Oh, that,” began Praveena ready to complain all she could about the lecture. But she paused as she realized something. “you know the principal?” she asked incredulously.

Ms Marrie nodded leaning on her chair. “Prathap was my classmate. He loved advising, even as a student,” she added irritably.

Praveena needed a minute to soak that piece of information. She imagined Ms Marrie and Professor Prathap in the same classroom, possibly in the same bench. “It would have been tiresome,” she accidentally wondered aloud.

“Ha,” Ms Marrie laughed. “that, it was.” she smiled reassuringly as Praveena looked at her shamefully.

“Anyway,” Ms Marrie continued. “I heard he gave valuable advice, even if he wasn’t clever enough to think of it on his own.” she said raising eyebrows at Praveena.

Praveena didn’t know how to respond. She knew her principal’s advice was based on reality and conventions, but she had felt it hard to accept it. She told that to Ms Marrie who nodded silently.

“I know what you mean,” Ms Marrie said after awhile. “Anyway,” she continued, draining the last of her coffee, “what did your father say about starting that non-profit organization? I spoke to a few of my friends and they’ve agreed to help us out.” she added a bit serious.

Praveena felt a rush of gratitude at Ms Marrie’s words. She appreciated the efforts Ms Marrie had made for her, “Thank you, Miss,” she said, overwhelmed by her kindness, “but I’ve decided to delay my plans.” she said unhappily.

Ms Marrie looked curiously at her. “But, why?” she asked surprised.

Praveena told Ms Marrie about Kamal’s response and his advice against the organization. Ms Marrie listened without interrupting. As Praveena ended sadly, Ms Marrie made a sudden suggestion, “Why don’t you become a teacher, Praveena?”

Chapter Forty One: Freedom

Graduation day. It would be the first and last of its kind in her life, Praveena waking up early on Saturday morning. She lay on the cozy bed stretching. Her phone rang, and she let out a wide yawn before answering it.

“Hey,” Anil’s voice rang out enthusiastically. Praveena looked at the huge wall clock that hung above the full-size mirror. It was five minutes past seven o’clock.

“Hi,” she yawning again. “It’s only seven!” she complained.

“Get up, you lazy bones!” he laughed. “It’s the official independence day!” he said gleefully.

“So?” Praveena asked mockingly. She sat up cracking her knuckles balancing her phone between her shoulder and ear.

“Please get ready soon,” Anil pleaded. “I’m bored” he added.

She sighed. “Alright,” she glumly got off the inviting bed. “Give me fifteen minutes, I’ll meet you outside.” She yawned.

“Ok,” Anil replied happily and disconnected the call.

Praveena stood in the centre of the room, as she had done countless times before, and suddenly felt an impulse to call out to Niveda. She thought of those instances when she had called out to wake a sleeping Niveda. She looked at the empty bed next to her, and pictured the image embossed in her mind; Niveda’s lifeless body lying face down.

She sighed. The temptation to weep was overwhelming. Instead, she turned towards the bathroom, she had to learn to put those things in the past.

This time, Anil was determined to take Praveena to a restaurant she had never been to. They walked to a small hotel about five minutes away.

It was a small shack with a thatched roof and filled with the appetizing smell of hot chic peas gravy.

“Hmm,” Praveena sniffed the scent like a child sniffing her mother’s special recipe. “It smells good.” She appreciated.

Anil beamed and they ate heartily.

By mid morning, they were back at the college, walking around the large grounds. Praveena hardly said anything and even though Anil tried multiple times to initiate a conversation, he couldn’t. The most she replied to any of his false starters was with a single “Yeah.”

Disheartened after a few minutes, he stopped speaking and began to savour the rustling of the leaves that broke the silence between them.

Praveena’s thoughts had drifted to her father. He had called her in the morning to say he would arrive in Bangalore late in the afternoon, a couple of hours before the convocation ceremony. He had spoken to her normally — just as he used to, before he put his foot down at Praveena’s plan. He had sounded neither apologetic nor annoyed, but Praveena could sense a certain disconnectedness she couldn’t decipher. She hadn’t told Anil about her father’s reaction yet, but planned to tell him that night after the graduation ceremony.

Praveena sat in the second row with her father, Anil, and his mother. It was the first time Praveena had met the old, lean, and bespectacled Anil’s mother. She had worn a printed light blue sari and looked stiff as if she had just retired from the military and hadn’t adopted civilian life yet. She had shook Praveena’s hand curtly with a severe expression on her face. From where she had stood introducing herself to his mother, Praveena saw Anil and her father, a short distance away exchanging a similar interaction.

She smiled to herself as she thought of Anil’s horrified expression. As the principal got on to the stage, Praveena adopted a more solemn expression. She didn’t want him thinking that she had made a laughing matter of this graduation. ‘He wouldn’t be wrong though.’ Praveena shut her inner voice down.

The principal, wearing a yellow robe too large for him, began his address. Every time he lifted his hands in a welcoming gesture, his robe would dangle off his arms making it tough for Praveena to stifle her laughter. She stole a look at Anil who had a laughing battle on his own. She quickly turned back to face the stage.

The principal spoke of leadership and the importance of higher studies. He went a step further to mention of the role of marriage in everyone’s life. He said he was glad to hear a lot of the students had gotten engaged. “Marriage,” he said loftily “teaches you values of life that even college doesn’t.” Praveena’s mind had already drifted. She saw the principal’s face contorted in concentration as he made a brave attempt to deliver his memorized speech without a hitch.

Kamal listened intently, and next to him, Praveena could see Anil with his face resting on his hand. She smiled to herself as she thought back to their boring days in college, when he had slept in class in the same position without anyone noticing. She was surprised that even after such a long time, he managed to pull it off without being detected — not even by his military-grade mother.

The principal spoke for about another twenty minutes. Praveena watched him speak without listening. When all of a sudden, everyone around her applauded, she sleepily realized the principal had succeeded — he had narrated without forgetting his speech.

Her father turned to face her admiringly, “That was a wonderful speech!” Praveena smiled but said nothing. In her three years of college life, she had heard countless speeches like that one. She had been inspired too the first time, but as it continued, she noticed he was more interested in saying something rather than what he said.

A lecturer had grabbed the microphone now. He congratulated the students for making it ‘this far’ in life and wished them all the best for the future. Once that was done, he called the names of the graduating students in alphabetical order. One by one, Praveena saw as her batch mates went over to the principal – who wore a fixed smile – and collected their certifications. She glared in disbelief as they all smiled and posed for cameras flashing from all sides.

Anil went before her and she saw him step up to the principal awkwardly. He grew nervous at gatherings, she knew. She glanced at Anil’s mother when he collected his certification, and was surprised to see her wiping tears away, fumbling frantically with the camera aimed at her son.

When her turn came, Praveena felt a sudden rush of sadness. She had always imagined her graduation with Anil and Niveda standing beside her. She collected her certificate with a sinking heart. ‘Niveda should have been here.’ Her inner voice said in a low voice. For some odd reason, Praveena’s heart felt lighter as she imagined Niveda’s warm hand pressing over hers, comforting her. Everything would come to pass.

Chapter Thirty Eight: Insights

They were at the Green Leaf restaurant yet again. After a sleepless night of indecision, Praveena had surprised Ms Marrie early in the morning.

“I’m confused Miss,” she had said.

“Let’s meet up,” Ms Marrie had laughed.

Praveena arrived at the Green Leaf restaurant a little early. She mulled over on what she had to say as Ms Marrie arrived.

“It’s becoming kind of a tradition, isn’t it?” Ms Marrie laughed taking a seat.

Praveena nodded smiling slightly. “Am I taking too much of your time, Miss?” Praveena knew she was, but she asked the question anyway, more out of formality than anything else.

“Well yes,” Ms Marrie said seriously, making Praveena cower in shame. “But,” Ms Marrie added, “considering I’m advising a student,” she smiled at Praveena, “it’s alright.”

Praveena smiled in response before saying, “Thank you, Miss. You’re the best.”

“Let’s skip the embarrassing compliments, shall we?” Ms Marrie raised her eyebrows at Praveena. “What’s troubling you now, Praveena?” she asked concernedly.

Praveena appreciated the concern and time Ms Marrie had always given her. Every time she had wanted to clear her mind, Ms Marrie had been there for her listening without judgement.

“A friend called me the other day, and he mentioned he was a volunteer in an alcoholic anonymous society.” She paused to take a swig at her orange juice. The mid morning sunlight streamed into the restaurant through the heavy glass windows, reflecting and brightening the colour of Praveena’s orange juice. Ms Marrie listened, sipping on her grape juice. “After the chat, I thought of starting a self help group in our locality for drug addicts.” Praveena looked up at the still impassive Ms Marrie’s face. “What do you think Miss?”

Ms Marrie sighed frowning slightly. “I think this is not the source of your confusion.” she observed. Praveena smiled sheepishly, but as Ms Marrie said nothing else, she continued. “I told Pa about this, and he disagreed.” she finished sadly and added, “Unexpectedly.”

Ms Marrie nodded understandingly. “So that’s what’s bothering you.” she said seriously. “What did your father say, exactly?”

Praveena didn’t want to go over the details again. Just thinking about it had been painful enough, let alone saying it out to someone else.

“Well,” she hesitated. This wasn’t as easy as she had anticipated. “he was worried that he made a mistake giving me freedom.” She gulped, “and – er – he also said…” She told Ms Marrie of the conversation she had had with her father. She told her teacher everything, including an afterthought. “I guess he is worried I would get involved with those who do drugs.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe he doesn’t trust me.” Praveena was heart broken.

Ms Marrie had just raised her glass of juice to her lips. She placed it on the table and spoke gently, “I don’t think it’s a matter of trust, Praveena.”

“Perhaps,” Praveena replied, now a little doubtful, “but I can take care of myself,” she said earnestly.

“No doubt you can,” Ms Marrie replied confidently.

“Then what’s his problem?” Praveena asked in a slightly raised voice.

Ms Marrie had been drinking her juice. She drained it and smugly placed the glass on the table. “The juice here is good,” she observed smacking her lips.

“Huh?” Praveena stared at Ms Marrie surprised. How could Ms Marrie appreciate the juice when she was worrying about her father?

Smirking at Praveena’s astonished look, Ms Marrie said, “Think of it this way, Praveena. Why do you want to start this self help group in the first place?”

Praveena said nothing, waiting for Ms Marrie to finish her thought.

“Why?” Ms Marrie urged her with raised eyebrows.

“Er – ” Praveena thought. Could this be a question trap? “to help people – ” She stopped with that, but Ms Marrie still looked at her rather quizzically. She tried again, “To help people get over their addiction?” Praveena ended on a higher note, making a question out of a statement.

“Are you telling me or asking me?” Ms Marrie smiled crookedly.

“Er – I’m telling you.” Praveena responded quite uncertain, but giving a curt nod anyway.

Ms Marrie also nodded in approval. “Good.” She appreciated.

“What’s good?” Praveena asked, totally taken unawares.

“You are sure of what you want to do, even if you are not sure of how to do it,” Ms Marrie said, making Praveena put her hands on either side of her head. She continued smiling “You want to help people, but have you considered that these people you want to help, might actually not need it?” She spoke calmly, in a tone that one takes while reasoning with a troublesome first grader.

Praveena looked up at Ms Marrie, “What do you mean?” she asked perplexed.

“Look,” Ms Marrie explained wetting her lips, “Let’s just say, you find this drunkard. He gets drunk everyday and beats his wife wickedly.” Ms Marrie sighed before continuing, “you tell him true happiness lies in living in peace with his family, but all the happiness he knows comes from a bottle of alcohol. From his point of view, happiness is momentary. You may call him irresponsible, but he’s happy.”

Understanding dawned on Praveena’s face. Maybe Ms Marrie had a point, she thought as Ms Marrie continued, “Trying to help that kind of a person into recovery would only make him unhappy.” she shrugged.

Praveena thought about what Ms Marrie had said. She couldn’t disagree, but her inner voice wouldn’t completely agree either, “Not everyone’s like that though,” she said obstinately.

“That’s right,” Ms Marrie replied brusquely. “That’s only a possibility. Your father could be worried you would fail. It wouldn’t be easy for him, as a father.”

“Yeah,” Praveena took a deep sigh. She was still confused.

Chapter Thirty Two: Explanations

Praveena thought back to the conversation she had had with Ms Marrie. She wondered how their first conversation in school had been an eyeopener; Ms Marrie had said, “You’re not the only one with problems,” and Praveena had realized the truth in those words the first time she had understood Niveda’s problems. Now it was Ms Marrie. Everyone has problems, but not two people show it the same way as the other. She smiled to herself.

She understood at last. She felt she had changed a lot. Her attitude towards people had changed drastically; she was now wiser to other people’s dilemmas.

Praveena thought back to the day her mother had died. She thought of how she had felt, and realized she had been trying to blame her mother’s death on something or someone, just like Ms Marrie had had. She had been searching for a reason, any reason, to blame her mother’s cancer on. Perhaps it was her age, she thought, and her immature mind that had barred her from accepting it sooner. Once again, her exchange with Ms Marrie had changed her perceptions.

And she grew greedy for more.

Praveena took a sip of her orange juice. She was at the Green Leaf restaurant again. Following their meeting a couple of days ago, Praveena had wanted to meet Ms Marrie again. She had called Ms Marrie and they had agreed on another lunch. Ms Marrie too had been eager. What began as a way of clearing Praveena’s cluttered mind in school, was growing into a relationship that neither of them could name.

Praveena looked around the restaurant. It was a wet afternoon and as a way of complimenting the weather, the blinds were raised, letting nature’s dull light wade inside the restaurant in pride. Even though the dim light illuminated the inside of the restaurant, there was an unlit candle and a matchbox on each of the small round tables. Praveena admired the white candles on the scarlet tablecloths as Ms Marrie walked up to her.

Praveena smiled at her. Ms Marrie looked beautiful as ever. She wore a light brown cotton sari, a colour that matched Praveena’s tee shirt. Ms Marrie’s eyes looked content again, and joy radiated in her broad smile. She took her seat and they placed their orders.

“How’s your father, Praveena?” Ms Marrie asked as she ate.

“He’s fine, Miss.” Praveena answered, licking her fingers and trying to look decent at the same time. “He’s so busy with work nowadays.”

“Hmm…” Ms Marrie acknowledged as she continued to eat. “So,” she swallowed, “has he spoken of marriage yet?” she asked casually. As if she had known all along.

Praveena choked on her mouthful of rice. Ms Marrie offered her some water and she took it. Eyes watering, she asked, “How did you know?” She didn’t hide her surprise.

“Happens to a lot of girls, and most of them agree,” It was perhaps the first time Praveena had noticed a hint of disapproval in Ms Marrie’s voice. She held on to it. “It didn’t happen to you, though. Did it?” she asked, enviously.

“Oh, yes it did,” Ms Marrie almost laughed thinking about it.

“How did you handle it?” Praveena was now full of devotion for Ms Marrie.

Ms Marrie shrugged, “I told my parents that I would marry when I wanted to.” she said simply.

“And they were ok with that?” Praveena asked, disbelieving. It seemed like her father wasn’t the only super dad.

Ms Marrie nodded, “As long as you’re sure, your parents would never try to change your mind. They’d start believing in you.”

Praveena nodded. She understood why Kamal hadn’t objected; he believed in her.

Praveena told Ms Marrie everything about the marriage proposal, from her aunt to the phone conversation. She also told her about Kamal’s reaction to her request.

Ms Marrie listened without interrupting.

Once Praveena had finished her narrative, “So, you need some time,” Ms Marrie observed. “Do you say that on someone’s influence?” She paused, “Are you interested in someone?”

Praveena thought. Why didn’t she want to get married? “No,” she said after a while. Ms Marrie raised her eyebrows in a questioning look. “I want to figure out what I want to do with my life, before I commit to marriage.”

“Ok,” Ms Marrie said simply, “you’re fine.” She shrugged smiling.

Praveena smiled in return, a little doubtful.

They left the restaurant together. Praveena volunteered to accompany Ms Marrie to the bus stop. It was a busy Saturday afternoon and the streets were full of heavy vehicles. People traveled long to enjoy the weekend with their family. There weren’t too many pedestrians though. Praveena and Ms Marrie crossed the street cautiously and waited for the bus to arrive.

Praveena suddenly noticed a group of people huddling together some forty feet away. She pointed it out to Ms Marrie and the two of them approached the crowd.

When they reached the crowd, they saw a biker, injured badly and struggling to breathe. Praveena stood stunned. She didn’t know how to react. The man on the ground was writhing in pain. He was surrounded by a pool of warm blood and she could see the gash in his head. His bike was a few feet away from him, the hand bar lopsided and bent in an awkward angle.

Praveena stood horrified, looking at the man who now seemed to have lost his consciousness. She turned around and realized Ms Marrie was missing. Before she could react however, Ms Marrie appeared with a bottle of soda. As Praveena, along with the onlookers, watched in silence, Ms Marrie went over to the injured man, lifted his head on to her left hand and poured some of the liquid into the man’s mouth.

A minute or two later, the ambulance arrived. No one knew who had called the emergency ambulance service. They took the man in a stretcher and asked Ms Marrie to accompany them. Without a second thought, Ms Marrie went with them, pulling Praveena along.

Yet Another Face of Poetry

Slam poetry, sometimes also called spoken word poetry is something I’ve already written about. Here’s another one, a slam by a teacher. The name’s Tylor Mali.

What do teachers make?

I have always been doubtful of our education system, but even I can’t deny the work of teachers. I have laughed at the thought of being a teacher, because I never thought they mattered. I know better now.

I’ve had had a few teachers who were much more than what they were paid to be. Those teachers changed my view of teaching. They make a difference. But not everyone, not everyone who’s taught can be a teacher. That is probably the most annoying thing about the profession.

Teachers do make a difference, and a god damn good one too.

Anyway, here’s Tylor Mali himself slamming.

Here’s the poem in cartoon form. From Zenpencils | “What teachers make”