The
late noon Sun was its zenith. We were toddlers in a “Start-up” school at the
sleepy little town called Rohtak. I and my classmates Satyapal and Rakesh Vig
held our hand together as the classes got over and walked 500 metres to the
main road to catch the rickshaw of Gopi. Gopi would wait near the main road to
pick us up after the school as he had other children from different schools too
along with him. A small canal ran along the main road and also there was an old
well under the shade of a Peepal tree. Gopi had not yet arrived when we reached
the assembly point. There was no soul on the deserted road as the mighty Sun
blazed away to glory. Three of us were curious to see the well for many days
and now were alone. We went near the well and looked inside- our cheerful faces
reflected on its water holding. Playful as we were, we picked a few pebbles and
created waves inside the well. Soon, the size of stones got bigger and Gopi was
nowhere in sight. We dropped a big brick inside the well, it created a big wave
and it hit the walls back and forth. The wave settled down and we saw the
reflection of three of us being joined with our teacher Mrs Keswani. A pleasant
personality, Mrs Keswani was an ex-Air Hostess of KLM and had settled down into
Rohtak after her marriage to a leading Doctor of Rohtak Medical College. She
held our small hands, cleaned the dust and calmly explained us about the
dangers that the well posed to three of us. The well looked so docile but yet
it could have led us to a fatal result. She waited with us till Gopi arrived
and sent us back to safety of our homes and waiting mothers.
The
Start-up School did not hold us for long. The next year, me and Satyapal moved
to a bigger school called Mahendra Kinder Garten which had classes till VIth.
We were happy that Mrs Keswani moved with us too. In the new school, we joined
the class of Miss Taru Gupta. She was a bubbly, young girl just out of her
College at Rohtak. In the days of the peak hippy culture, she would be smartly
dressed in trendy faded hippy denims and would teach us all the subjects.
Neither the teacher nor the students ever felt fatigued. She not only groomed
us in studies, but also groomed our personalities. I still wear the same hair
style that she carved out for me in 1977!! There were no PTMs as she would meet
our parents every now and then and help them to understand our growth patterns.
We were so fortunate that she took us right from the Prep School till Class
VIth. She brought out our talents to the fore and I had the honour to lead the
School’s dramatics team under her tutelage. It was great excitement as I would
present the School’s credentials to the Chief Guest during the School’s Annual
Function.
With
a heavy heart and tears in our eyes, me and Satyapal bade farewell to our middle
school and joined the VIIth class in Model School, Rohtak. Miss Taru Gupta
wished us all the success and continued to monitor our progress as we kept
meeting her every now and then. Model School was a big school. Each class had
03 sections and the competition was large. Coming from a smaller school, we
were outsiders as compared to the older students. We had to carve out our
places in the new school. The hard work of studies started getting noticed and
during the Annual Day selections, I was picked up for a small role in the famed
English play enacted only by our School in the entire district. The English
plays used to attract large audience especially from the University and Medical
College which were Rohtak’s attractions. The role was that of a servant of a
rich lady. The play began on a right note but halfway through the play, the
lead actress forgot her lines as I made my scheduled entry to remove the tea
cups!! The curtains were drawn as audience kept rapt silence. Backstage, the
play director gave a dressing down. The lead actress, a Class XIIth student
pointed an accusing finger towards me, a VIIth class student for forgetting her
lines!! The play director, a lady teacher, slapped me hard without
investigating the matter. The Assistant Play Director, Mr Ishwar Singh Varma,
was watching the whole incident unfolding. He held me tight and wiped my tears
away. He took me under his wings from then on.
Next
year, Mr Ishwar Singh Varma became the play director as the previous year’s
failure was still fresh in the minds of the School’s management committee. Mr
Ishwar Singh gave me the lead role of a 70 year old widower who manages to
marry a young girl whom his son also likes!! It was a challenging and demanding
role and a central character for a Class VIIth boy. The play went like a song
and we re-enacted the play for 02 more occasions. Mr Ishwar Singh Varma always
kept his hawk eyes on us as we grew in the School. He would always counsel us
and keep our focus on the righteous path. His admonishments were never to break
our growth pattern, but he would guide us always to meet the looming challenges
on the horizon. His famous lines on my report card were,” Intelligence is only
1%, 99% is the preparation.” He silently and effectively nurtured our energies
and helped all my classmates to transit from School to meaningful institutions.
We last met him at his house, when Satyapal, Vivek Chugh and me went across to
present him a Tie as a mark of our eternal respect to the man. Satyapal and I
were already in the NDA and Vivek was heading towards his MBA in the
Kurukshetra University.
As
I moved ahead into my life, my association with Teachers has continued to grow
deeper and deeper. All my teachers have influenced my destiny with their
actions and thoughts. They have set forth the challenges and helped me to
achieve my aims. In each role of life, a teacher emerges. The first machinery
round on a mammoth Air Craft Carrier with a senior Lieutenant of the Electrical
Department or the first Dive under the careful watch of the Executive Officer
of the Submarine could not have been enjoyable had the Teacher inside them not
emerged out. They held my hands as I went through the challenges of meeting the
ultimate operational tasks of the Indian Navy.
The
creative angles rest inside each of us. Teachers emerged here also and nudged
the writer inside me out into the open. My writing bug was kindled by Wing
Commander Unni Kartha (popularly known as Cyclic
in Blog circles) and Colonel KL Vishwanathan (or Kelly). Both these gentlemen
are my Squadron Seniors from the Foxtrot Squadron of the National Defence
Academy. Their writings stirred my Hornets Nest and keep me going on.
The
latest teacher who has made a difference into my life is Brigadier Rajiv
Divekar, the present Director of Symbiosis Institute of Management Sciences. He
has guided my latest thesis which I am submitting for my MBA degree. The
process has been smooth and the final prints are ready for submission.
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