IF I WERE A TREE

5th September-Teachers' Day in India. A day marked to commemorate an iconic academician in the history of India, Dr. S. Radhakrishnan. All of us have a favourite teacher or more, from our childhood or academic life, who we remember with warm,fuzzy feelings because that's how they'd made us feel when we were their students. However, while we all overflow with chocolatey love for many of our teachers, there's also another fact that meets us squarely in the eye-the existence of the disgruntled teacher, who hates being in the profession and is there for any reason but the right one. The teacher who loves the bright, intelligent, confident and self-motivated student: the student who makes her/his professional life easy by being just them-perfect. The teacher whose wrath finds no mediators when it comes to the average, under-par, less than wonder-child kind of a pupil, and worse still, with the consistent under-achiever. 

No, I will not take away from the flavour of the day when everyone is feeling wonderful about teaching and the teacher-taught relationship. Instead, I want to dedicate this post to one of my teachers from school who, in a bitter-sour kind of a way, is the reason why I strove for a certain proficiency in English through my learning years. Yes, the teacher who loved every student whose diction bespoke of privileged high-society upbringing. And then there was me- from a mediocre, Punjabi-speaking family; whose parents' greatest dream for their children was a plush, convent education. So, one PTM day this teacher of mine told my parents in the most unpretentious manner that I did not belong to an English-speaking environment and that they should seek out a lesser-public school for me, where I would blend in better. It did-not matter if I was good at everything that I chose to learn. All that mattered was my inability to speak, understand and write well in English. I don't know how my parents felt about it then,but I for one, colloquially speaking, was mortally struck. That was the moment when I boarded the English high-ride, rather subconsciously, I'd say. So today, while I should be profusely thanking that teacher for the humiliation, my heart really doesn't.  While she may have been the starting -point of my journey, loss of faith in certain other beautiful things in life, was a huge price to pay. And irrevocable too.

As we celebrate the ideal teacher each year, I'm forced into thinking about several other students like me, who are humiliated by their teachers every day in the classroom, without anybody hearing the sound of that impact. Students who continue to believe that they can never be the best, because their teacher reminds them constantly and consistently about their shortfalls, in several visible and invisible ways. The under-achiever is nobody's favourite. The under-achiever may as well find a school that caters exclusively to losers. It's a happy day when the under-achiever remains absent from school because the only time they're missed  is when everyone needs a good laugh and the resource is missing.

Therefore today, to celebrate the teacher-taught relationship on Teachers' Day, here's something that a far-less-than-perfect pupil wants to say to.....whoever cares to listen:

IF I WERE A TREE

If I were a tree

out there in the woods

stark different from

the orchard's; free

of the gardener's able hands

reared by moody, guileless winds

and the ageless, tireless bee

Would you let me be?

If I were a rose

thorny and wild

with unkempt petals

and restless leaves

different from the ones

raised skill fully

in your garden; and taught

to look like you

sway like you

for you

by you

then,

would you be able to see

with non-myopic vision

my form, my spotless beauty?

If I were a puddle

of unholy water

mixed with grunge and slush

the drivers of sin

Would you,

like the preacher,

take me in your hands

and bring about

stillness, and clarity?

I ask you, teacher,

i seek, I plea

for the sake of our sanity

to take me as I were

and try not

to hold me 'gainst stronger light

to see the dark in me,

for the sake of posterity

love me for who I am

find, mould and nurture

the unseen,

the unnoticed

the undiscovered in me

for the world needs all kinds.

Words and acts blind,

only dole out one

much like another

but fail to add

to the multi-hued glory

of a rainbow's austerity.

I beg you, teacher

for the sake of eternity

let not education break me

but bring in balance

order and peace

first in my heart

and my soul

And that's how the world shall be

for the sake of world-harmony

O' let me be

and the Rumi in me
stay alive and free

so, let me be

Just let me be.