Summer Holidays...in other words ,Winter has set in!

Another academic year coming to a close. I had been cursing myself for getting a bit too involved with this job ( I find it impossible to leave my college shoes outside the doors of my home).

I would curse the nuns for making a mule of me, curse the kids for writing all sorts of crap in their answer sheets, and making me worry over them ...

Then again I would curse God for making me what I am now, and not someone more wonderful,like...like...

oh some one like a great scientist who, after spending hours on end in his lab , comes out victorious with a very significant invention that would change the future of mankind,
or someone like a philosopher or a great writer , who only have to look into empty space with vacant eyes,to come out with great words reverberating with the wisdom and knowledge of all times ,
or someone like my sweet sister , the real home-maker ,who somehow manages to look beautiful and fresh even when she comes out of the kitchen after a day's hardwork there(Oh how I hate those men who , when asked what their wives did, would give a very casual, Ha nothing much she is a mere housewife!) ,

or some great artist , who with a few strokes of his mighty brush would give birth to a new creation just as Millaise has painted my Fav Ophelia. Oh dear ! I really am ashamed of this, but I do admit that Im a total disaster when it comes to painting / drawing. If I draw an elephant, its sure to resemble a frog. Ok , so that solves the problem, you might think! I only have to meditate upon an elephant to draw a perfect Prince Frog ! No darlings! My elephant- metamorphosed -into-frog would turn out to be a mere tadpole .

Thus I find myself stuck in this dirthole of a college , serves me right, though!

But today, I watched the last of them leave the college with all their books and notes, turning back to wave, throwing a kiss my way , making sure that none of the nuns are watching,still going ahead. Away from the college, but surely not away from me?

I wanted to kick my arrogant mean little mind , for being so blind to them all this while . I wanted to call them back .I couldnt , for I knew that their paths lay ahead.

So here I am , back home. Wondering what a fool I have been all these years ,kidding myself into thinking that I had some great lessons to teach them. Me the know-it -all on the big pedestal , ready to dispense with knowledge to these lesser beings sitting infront of me,ready to lap up whatever meagre trickle I had to pour from my vast reservoire! baaaaaah ! What a fake I am.

My girls ! Hardly have they stepped into their own houses ,than I have started missing them badly.

Their shining eyes, sometimes filled with cuiosity, sometimes sheer mirth,confusion now, hurt at other times,disdain at some other moments , and love when I dont necessarily have to be "Teacher" to them. What all have we shared !

I always say that Im consantly working among Markandeyaas ( Markandeya as per Indian Mythology, was blessed with ever - youth , always 16...)Though the names and faces of the kids infront of me change , as every year passes by, the student community as such possessed one psyche. My kids, ranging from agegroup 18 to 22, as a single body, would always show the peculiar characteristics of their age and the times in which they were living. Or atleast thats what I used to boast knowledgeably to my friends.

But how wrong I had been ! Each of them every single one of them were distinct , independent individuals.And just now when I am about to say to myself , " Here you go darlings, I have explained every single possible word in your text book, given all possible meanings of the word, even some which even good old Shakespeare wouldn't have thought of while he wrote the piece, and all possible, Essay/ Short/ annotation questions that might come for the exams. Keep all that arranged in tidy packages in the shelves of your minds ", then you turn back and give me that sweeping wave of your hand and shout back , "MarakandaaTTO ( Dont forget)..."

Now what is this! Why am I taken aback? Ofcourse they were asking me not to forget their names, their faces.What else could be there ? Nothing else, nothing at all! Obviously they wouldnt have expected me to remember something that THEY had taught me. Or was there something that I had overlooked in my cock-sure arrogance?

As if in answer to my query someone closes my eyes from behind.I know from the giggle that its my Cheethu or ChiruthEyi who is Sreedevi in the College records. She is going home from the hostel , with her Amma. The sweet lady tells me, "Ma'm make sure that u dont give too long a rope to this one.She can be quite naughty ." Then one more round of farewells and they are off.

Now I know...when Chiruthey closed my eyes, somehow the world seemed to appear more clear.




The ever-sweet Sreedevi, whose crutches , we never even notice, for her chirpiness and exhuberance make up for her wobbly steps.And at the GanameLa, while all of us are dancing , me, doing a rickety-dickety waltz with her, since Ihave to be both her partner and her crutches, she stumbles. And I suggest that I be a Rajnikanth to her Sreedevi so that we could do any dance in an eternal slow motion! This seems to work better. At the end of the second dance she collapses intio a chair , gasping in pain , gives me a tight hug and also a slap across my face with :"Oh Miss! This cancer sure is a lousy disease to have, it wont even let you dance !" Then I knew that the brightness in her huge eyes was due to the unshed tears stashed away for private moments.

Then the dreamy-eyed Luba , whose distracted look caught my attention the very first day I went to their class.At first I thought, Oh the age for dreams...
5 minutes later it became , may be it IS the age for dreams, but the place?Surely she has a better place then my class! 5 more minutes ,and,I knew that I had to make the girl acknowledge Bernnard Shaw if not her teacher. The whole class was responding beautifully to the cheeky statements of Shaw but not my saucer-eyed dreamer.Then I made some outrageous statement just to shock the girl out of her wonderland. The whole class stared at me in disbelief , but not my target! I dont know what gave me the first inkling that something was wrong here ! Perhaps the troubled countenance of the other girls did give me a warning. I sat opposite to her , in the bench infront of her , and faced her.She gave me a confused look and a tentative smile.I smiled back into her eyes which were curiously devoid of any guile . Then the girl sitting next to her whispered something in my ears. She didnt have to whisper.For Luba was mostly deaf and she couldnt speak properly.May be that was what her friend was trying to tell me through her whispers , but Luba had a better , a more effective way of communicating. She just started talking to me as I sat shocked, unable to move , or say something.She was gesticulating wildly, almost desperately, strange sounds emanating from her young ,helpless throat .I wanted to ask her to stop ,to go back to her reveries to wherever it took her. I later found that the girl couldnt read lips, nor could she make use of any sign language. But she wrote beautiful English.She was always in that silent island of hers,where sometimes some of us were allowed. Someone who didnt know the whole story would rand us a pack of madcaps , for our sessions were all a big cacophony of meaningless sounds of all sorts. Meaningless to the outsider. But to us, who have learnt Luba's tongue by now , every single note makes perfect sense.

God ! How many of them, and how many more to come!I number them all, though I dont call them by their names,in thuis post of mine,. A pathetic attempt at capturing reatness with mere words .Hope you read the punctuations of silence more.Blessed am I , to be given a chance to be with such great ladies !

Thanks my darlings,for teaching me the wonderful lesson called Life!