The Teacher
At the age of mid sixties everything
seems to be so perfect and satisfying, but at times life has something to lean
on to.
Dr. Sharma has received the highest honorary
awards for serving the humanity and for developing remedy for terminal illness
of cancer, one day while sitting on that park bench watching sun set, a tear
roll down his cheeks, taking him back to the fond memories of Mrs. Mukherjee,
the most humble person in his life.
Ram Sharma, a poor weak boy of fifth
grade sitting on the last bench with a weird look. His clothes were un-kept and
he constantly needed a bath and was unpleasant. That was the first thing Mrs. Mukherjee
noticed when she joined the school.
This boy is very different from others.
Mrs. Mukherjee stood in front of her
fifth-grade class on the very first day of school in the fall and told the
children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that
she loved them all the same, that she would treat them all alike. And that was
impossible because there in front of her, slumped in his seat on the last row,
was a little boy named Ram.
In a very less time Mrs. Mukherjee
realized that Ram is a useless boy with lots of arrogance, ill manners , even
that he does not respond to the questions asked to him.
But eventually she was required to review
each child's records and put Ram’s off until last. When she opened his file,
she was in for a surprise.
His first-grade teacher wrote,
"Ram is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh." "He
does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."
His second-grade teacher wrote,
"Ram is an excellent student well-liked by his classmates, but he is
troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."
His third-grade teacher wrote, "Ram continues to
work hard but his mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best
but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect
him if some steps aren't taken."
Ram's fourth-grade teacher wrote,
"Ram is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't
have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class. He is tardy and could become a
problem."
By now Mrs. Mukherjee realized the
problem, but annual day was coming fast. It was all she could do, with the
school play and all, until the day before the holidays began and she was suddenly
forced to focus on Ram Sharma.
Her children brought her presents, all
in beautiful ribbon and bright paper, except for Ram's, which was clumsily
wrapped in the heavy, brown paper bag. Mrs. Mukherjee took pain to open it in
the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when
she found red stone bangles with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that
was one-quarter full of perfume. She stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed
how pretty the bangle
was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume
behind the other wrist.
Ram Sharma stayed behind just long enough to say, "Mukherjee
Ma’m, today you smelled just like my mom used to."
After the children left she cried for at least an hour.
On that very day, she quit her further studies . Instead, she began to teach
children. Ram paid particular
attention to the one. As she worked with him, his mind
seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. On
days where there would be an important test, Mrs. Mukherjee would remember that
perfume.
By the end of the year, he had become one
of the smartest children in the class and well, he had also become the
"pet" of the teacher who had once vowed to love all of her children
exactly the same. A year later she found a note under her door, from Ram, telling
her that of all the teachers he'd had in primary school, she was his favourite.
Six years went by before she got another note from Ram. He then wrote that he
had finished high school, first in his class, and she was still his favourite
teacher of all time.
Four years after that, she got another
letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in
school, had stuck with it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honours.
He assured Mrs. Mukherjee she was still his favourite teacher.
Then five more years passed and yet
another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his entrance
cleared, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still
his favourite teacher, but that now his name was a little longer.
The letter was signed, Dr. Ram Sharma, M.D.
The last line of letter was:
“Teacher you have made me what I am today…..Thanks”
Mrs. Mukherjee replied:
“Ram! You have made what I am today. Thanks for making me
a teacher”- God Bless!
: Sachin Singh
Fb Flower Basket
www.fbflowerbasket.com
This one z d best, Sachin. Two lines just took away my heart.... One where he says you smell like my mom & the last line where they both tell each other u hv made me what I am!
ReplyDeleteBeautifully chosen words! U rocked it booom 👍🏻😊