When we first started class 11, high school, I was pissed. They'd put most of my friends, the ones I'd been growing up with in a new section and me and a few other in another.
I was pissed, but I got over it. I've always been pretty good adapting to situations.
We had new teachers, some impressive, some irritating and some, most memorable.
At the top of this list was our chemistry teacher, Mr D M Mehta. I don't know the full name. Never did bother to find out. Doesn't mean I had any less respect for him.
He had a catch phrase. "Hath mein paani le ke naak dubo le" (Take some water in your palm and drown your nose in it). Of course accompanied by the gesture. This was his way of telling you to get your shit in order.
Well on the first day after summer holidays, with a bunch of new students in class, I was clowning around and mimicking his mannerisms and catch phrase with my back to the door. And, obviously, he walked in right then. Gave me a stinker look and I thought, well, I'm never going to pass chemistry.
I grew to respect that man immensely. He didn't hold it against me and gave a me fair chance in class. He let it go as a child's foolishness and gave me respect, which I returned plenty-fold.
He was a harsh man, crude, loud, merciless. But he was a good man. One of the best I've met. He always tried his hardest. And his eyes were extraordinarily expressive. Something I only noticed years later, in 2008 at a school fete. Kind but sorrowful eyes.
I'm sad today, because after a year of being comatose he has passed on. This world has no place for good men, so I hope he is happy where ever he is, whichever religion got it right. The thing about good men is that they know there won't be a place for them in this world, but that doesn't change them.
I respect knowledge. He had it.
By the time I left school, I had a good relationship with him, and I'm pretty sure he was more fond of me than most students in my batch. But I didn't go for his Chautha. I didn't think it was appropriate for me to there, with his family whom I know not at all. Whenever I've met him after school we've always had a nice long chat in which he'd speak mostly about his kids, whom he's so proud of, studying outside the country and doing well.
He'd speak about the administrative changes in school which made it hard to be a good teacher. Slapping for one, a non aggressive tap on the back of the head, another one of the things he did and something to which we never took offense had suddenly become a complete nono because stupid little kids would threaten legal or aggressive retaliation.
They were slowly sucking the life out of this offbeat, vibrant man.
Rest peacefully sir, we shall meet again soon and chat about many things, man to man not man to child anymore.
(I was unable to find a picture of him to add here)
I was pissed, but I got over it. I've always been pretty good adapting to situations.
We had new teachers, some impressive, some irritating and some, most memorable.
At the top of this list was our chemistry teacher, Mr D M Mehta. I don't know the full name. Never did bother to find out. Doesn't mean I had any less respect for him.
He had a catch phrase. "Hath mein paani le ke naak dubo le" (Take some water in your palm and drown your nose in it). Of course accompanied by the gesture. This was his way of telling you to get your shit in order.
Well on the first day after summer holidays, with a bunch of new students in class, I was clowning around and mimicking his mannerisms and catch phrase with my back to the door. And, obviously, he walked in right then. Gave me a stinker look and I thought, well, I'm never going to pass chemistry.
I grew to respect that man immensely. He didn't hold it against me and gave a me fair chance in class. He let it go as a child's foolishness and gave me respect, which I returned plenty-fold.
He was a harsh man, crude, loud, merciless. But he was a good man. One of the best I've met. He always tried his hardest. And his eyes were extraordinarily expressive. Something I only noticed years later, in 2008 at a school fete. Kind but sorrowful eyes.
I'm sad today, because after a year of being comatose he has passed on. This world has no place for good men, so I hope he is happy where ever he is, whichever religion got it right. The thing about good men is that they know there won't be a place for them in this world, but that doesn't change them.
I respect knowledge. He had it.
By the time I left school, I had a good relationship with him, and I'm pretty sure he was more fond of me than most students in my batch. But I didn't go for his Chautha. I didn't think it was appropriate for me to there, with his family whom I know not at all. Whenever I've met him after school we've always had a nice long chat in which he'd speak mostly about his kids, whom he's so proud of, studying outside the country and doing well.
He'd speak about the administrative changes in school which made it hard to be a good teacher. Slapping for one, a non aggressive tap on the back of the head, another one of the things he did and something to which we never took offense had suddenly become a complete nono because stupid little kids would threaten legal or aggressive retaliation.
They were slowly sucking the life out of this offbeat, vibrant man.
Rest peacefully sir, we shall meet again soon and chat about many things, man to man not man to child anymore.
(I was unable to find a picture of him to add here)
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