On Teachers’ Day, mind travels down memory lane, winding back to more than four decades. St Philomena’s was an august institution, run by well meaning and disciplined nuns belonging to the good shepherd diocese. Each year there would be various events and celebrations befitting the guidelines for all schools.
Teachers’ Day celebration was one that uniquely stood out as students of class X got to don the mantle of the teachers and conduct classes for the younger brood. They could even wear traditional clothes, even a saree, if they wished. Where were the teachers, on this day dedicated to them? The school authorities generally arranged for a day’s picnic at a nearby scenic spot where the teachers got to enjoy themselves, forgetting their serious responsibilities for a day.
Yet during some other year it would be a celebration at the school itself with the students performing cultural events for their dear teachers, followed by lunch. At any rate it was pure fun for the students and teachers alike. I am sure on that day every student aspired to become a teacher, as I did.
But fate willed another way and it so happened that I landed myself at a mighty public sector organization, with heavy ledgers and customers to attend to and not students. Banking was a respectable job to hold and enviously viewed by the aspiring lot.
My dream of becoming a teacher lay buried and my teaching was
restricted to my two cute toddlers --Prithvi and Rukma. Time flew and I never realized that I spent over two decades at the same organization, albeit at different locations, bent under thankless work and responsibility, working nearly ten hours daily. Finally there came a situation in my life when I took a definite stand and severed the knot with the ruthless giant, on my own terms. My action certainly raised eyebrows as such a job was hard to come by and I had many lucrative years of my career left with the promotion ladder beckoning. But a few well wishers lauded my decision as they were themselves stuck in the rut unable to free themselves, and turned envious of me too.
Once I broke free I heaved a big sigh of relief and started to breathe in my new retired life. I woke up leisurely, had an invigorating cuppa without any hurry and also got to attend to many of the neglected domestic add-on chores. With time on hand my interest in my hobbies surfaced and I passionately hugged reading and writing which had been buried under the everyday rigamarole of a stressful job of the past two decades. One day as I scanned the daily my eyes lit up at an ad for lecturers at a nearby college. I was thrilled that I may step into my dream shoes.
Soon I took to teaching like a pussycat to milk and it turned out that I became a teacher not only to the students but a mentor to many teachers who were almost one generation younger than me, turning it into a twin pleasure for me. On Teachers’ Day it was with immense happiness that I accepted the roses offered by a bunch of excited students. I saw my childhood reflected in them.