Skip to main content

Me-time



One of the parents who met me today during the Parent-Teacher Meeting at school told me, “My daughter is your fan. She often wonders how a teacher can be so innocent like you.”

I was too stunned to respond. Just yesterday I mentioned in another class that I was blessed to have such innocent students. My initial fear when I came from Delhi three years ago and perceived such innocent students in my present school in a small town in Kerala was whether I would corrupt them with the craftiness that Delhi had taught me as an integral part of the survival game we played normally in Delhi.

One of the lessons I learnt even before I took up my teaching job in Delhi in 2001 was to stay away from people as far as possible. Shillong taught me that lesson, in fact. That’s the only place where I ventured out into the society at least to some extent. I turned out to be an utter failure. Shillong was my undoing. It was inevitable, perhaps. I needed to learn the lessons that the little hill town taught me in the most rigorous and steadfast ways. There were people in Shillong whose sole mission in life seemed to be to reform me. And they were successful.

Their success was that I learnt to stay clear of society. I withdrew into myself except for the professional encounters I had and still have with my students. I learnt that I was a misfit in society. This gave me a lot of ‘me-time’.



I love spending time alone. I’m in love with the tea which I drink standing in the yard looking at the leaves nodding in the evening’s gossamer breeze. I’m in love with the books that give me company in the me-time that begins with the tea. I love to sit before my laptop and type out my thoughts for anyone who cares to read them.

Today that parent taught me that I have retrieved my innocence. I love that innocence too. I love the students who gifted me that innocence. I love the distance between them and me where the innocence blooms like the gossamer breeze that plays on my leaves and my evening tea.  

PS. Written for In(di)spire Edition 230: #MeTime


Top post on IndiBlogger, the biggest community of Indian Bloggers



Comments

  1. I guess one who survive in Delhi, survive all odds. Great post. Me time is a bliss

    ReplyDelete
  2. Delhi is terrible. So much politics and flashy lifestyle. Glad you went back to your roots. I wrote something about my stay in Shillong. We have so much in common- Teaching, Kerala, Dehli, Shillong! Always enjoy reading your post.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I didn't know you had a Shillong connection. I lived there for 15 long years. My forthcoming memoir, 'Autumn Shadows', has a few chapters dedicated to Shillong.

      Delhi has too many masks. What shocked me, however, was the mask of certain religious people belonging to Radha Soami Satsang Beas. Some of them have the most angelic smiles on their faces but the most venomous fangs behind the smiles. I couldn't learn the survival strategy among them.

      Kerala has been a refreshing change for me though the place has its own share of nasty politics.

      Delete
    2. I have written about Shillong in this post-http://nimadas.blogspot.com/2018/07/a-brief-sojour-at-pine-mount-school.html
      Radha Swami Lol!! Yes I have seen some of them in white dress looking very angelic.
      All small towns have some amount of petty politics. i am half a mallu myself by the way. Keep blogging. stay blessed.

      Delete
    3. Going to keep a closer watch on you. 😉

      Delete
  3. Life teaches us some lessons the hard way. You have a beautiful heart. All the best for "Autumn Shadows" Loved your first book.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for the wishes. 'Autumn Shadows' is a serious memoir, quiet philosophical .

      Delete
  4. Yes students teaches a lot to a teacher.And I am happy that your innocence remained intact in your journey:)

    MeenalSonal

    ReplyDelete
  5. Being with oneself and being alone are different. The first is about finding what to do with choices and the latter about choices being unable to find you.
    Your interpretation was also interesting. Nice post.

    Arvind Passey
    www.passey.info

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. My aloneness is my own choice. Life teaches us to make certain choices.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ayodhya: Kingdom of Sorrows

T he Sarayu carried more tears than water. Ayodhya was a sad kingdom. Dasaratha was a good king. He upheld dharma – justice and morality – as best as he could. The citizens were apparently happy. Then, one day, it all changed. One person is enough to change the destiny of a whole kingdom. Who was that one person? Some say it was Kaikeyi, one of the three official wives of Dasaratha. Some others say it was Manthara, Kaikeyi’s chief maid. Manthara was a hunchback. She was the caretaker of Kaikeyi right from the latter’s childhood; foster mother, so to say, because Kaikeyi had no mother. The absence of maternal influence can distort a girl child’s personality. With a foster mother like Manthara, the distortion can be really bad. Manthara was cunning, selfish, and morally ambiguous. A severe physical deformity can make one worse than all that. Manthara was as devious and manipulative as a woman could be in a men’s world. Add to that all the jealousy and ambition that insecure peo...

The Little Girl

The Little Girl is a short story by Katherine Mansfield given in the class 9 English course of NCERT. Maggie gave an assignment to her students based on the story and one of her students, Athena Baby Sabu, presented a brilliant job. She converted the story into a delightful comic strip. Mansfield tells the story of Kezia who is the eponymous little girl. Kezia is scared of her father who wields a lot of control on the entire family. She is punished severely for an unwitting mistake which makes her even more scared of her father. Her grandmother is fond of her and is her emotional succour. The grandmother is away from home one day with Kezia's mother who is hospitalised. Kezia gets her usual nightmare and is terrified. There is no one at home to console her except her father from whom she does not expect any consolation. But the father rises to the occasion and lets the little girl sleep beside him that night. She rests her head on her father's chest and can feel his heart...

Bharata: The Ascetic King

Bharata is disillusioned yet again. His brother, Rama the ideal man, Maryada Purushottam , is making yet another grotesque demand. Sita Devi has to prove her purity now, years after the Agni Pariksha she arranged for herself long ago in Lanka itself. Now, when she has been living for years far away from Rama with her two sons Luva and Kusha in the paternal care of no less a saint than Valmiki himself! What has happened to Rama? Bharata sits on the bank of the Sarayu with tears welling up in his eyes. Give me an answer, Sarayu, he said. Sarayu accepted Bharata’s tears too. She was used to absorbing tears. How many times has Rama come and sat upon this very same bank and wept too? Life is sorrow, Sarayu muttered to Bharata. Even if you are royal descendants of divinity itself. Rama had brought the children Luva and Kusha to Ayodhya on the day of the Ashvamedha Yagna which he was conducting in order to reaffirm his sovereignty and legitimacy over his kingdom. He didn’t know they w...

Liberated

Fiction - parable Vijay was familiar enough with soil and the stones it turns up to realise that he had struck something rare.   It was a tiny stone, a pitch black speck not larger than the tip of his little finger. It turned up from the intestine of the earth while Vijay was digging a pit for the biogas plant. Anand, the scientist from the village, got the stone analysed in his lab and assured, “It is a rare object.   A compound of carbonic acid and magnesium.” Anand and his fellow scientists believed that it must be a fragment of a meteoroid that hit the earth millions of years ago.   “Very rare indeed,” concluded the scientist. Now, it’s plain commonsense that something that’s very rare indeed must be very valuable too. All the more so if it came from the heavens. So Vijay got the village goldsmith to set it on a gold ring.   Vijay wore the ring proudly on his ring finger. Nobody, in the village, however bothered to pay any homage to Vijay’s...

Empuraan – Review

Revenge is an ancient theme in human narratives. Give a moral rationale for the revenge and make the antagonist look monstrously evil, then you have the material for a good work of art. Add to that some spices from contemporary politics and the recipe is quite right for a hit movie. This is what you get in the Malayalam movie, Empuraan , which is running full houses now despite the trenchant opposition to it from the emergent Hindutva forces in the state. First of all, I fail to understand why so much brouhaha was hollered by the Hindutvans [let me coin that word for sheer convenience] who managed to get some 3 minutes censored from the 3-hour movie. The movie doesn’t make any explicit mention of any of the existing Hindutva political parties or other organisations. On the other hand, Allahu Akbar is shouted menacingly by Islamic terrorists, albeit towards the end. True, the movie begins with an implicit reference to what happened in Gujarat in 2002 after the Godhra train burnin...