Life’s definitely changed since I started on my new job. It’s a great place to work, there’s much to learn, new, quirky, fun people to work with and I’m really happy.. but there’s also another part I have to contend with. Traveling.
I’d never thought I’d be a part of the train crowd. When in college, I was free enough to bunk lectures, attend the late ones or was lucky enough to have them scheduled late. Basically it meant there wasn’t ever one particular bus I took. Or, on the rare days I ended up taking a train, it was always a different one. When I did give a thought to people who took the train everyday, I always ended up thinking “I hope I’m never among the, taking the same train everyday, rushing about worrying about train timings.. having a life ruled by the local trains.” But then. The fella up there likes his joke. And so, I did end up becoming a part of this crowd.
As such, its ok. I happen to travel in the peak hours, so getting a seat or not is an occurrence… you simply get used to it. I especially look forward to the time when the train’s crossing the Vashi bridge… there’s nothing but knots and knots of water for as far you can see…. Sky and sea merge seamlessly into the horizon.. I could gaze at it forever. .. in fact, this part of the journey is refreshing as there’s always a nice breeze whipping across your face… specially in the morning, when the air’s fresh, like someone up there had put out their laundry in the sun.. ok not exactly, but… fresh.
There is an entire cultural system that’s manifested in train travelers. Mumbaites would be aware. But for non-mumbaites, there are a few things that are very much a part of this culture, peculiar to it and are kind of fascinating. One is that of having ‘train friends’.. people who just take the same train as you everyday. They may or may not get down at the same station as you, but they’re as much your friends as the ones elsewhere, just that you tend to talk of train timings and work whinings and chivalrously get up for a bit while they take your seat. I haven’t made any train friends yet, but I am familiar with a lot of faces.
Another peculiarity is that of the bhajan group. I’m not sure of other trains. But two trains that I’ve taken successively, there is this group of ladies in the compartment who have this select list of hymns they start when the train leaves Vashi. The entire ‘playlist’ takes about 20 mins and they sing the same songs, in the same order everyday. They’re marathi hymns. But…. On the 8:48 train, the ‘group’ of ladies starts singing, but in effect, there’s just one lady you can hear. She has a deep, loud voice and I find her singing irksome firstly coz its tuneless as such, and she ruins it by singing it like she doesn’t mean to really. Now that’s dumb… do it with your heart in it lady! But the train after that, 8:52, there’s a group there, they sing the same songs as the group in the earlier train. But such a difference!!! This group has really sweet voiced people who sing it like they mean it and it sounds so beautiful!!!
And of course, all the time, at every station people get in and they invariably ask the people seated where they’re getting down.. they ‘book’ a seat so that they can sit for part of the journey at least. Sure you hear brawls sometimes… but where don’t you???
Then there are the vendors. They’re regulars too. There’s a bhel-waali maushi who is there every evening at VT for the 5:47 Vashi local. Then the earrings and hair-clip vendors who are regulars from Nerul and Sanpada. The odd men who bring mirror sets, ear-buds, key chains and what nots… the handicapped/blind ones who sell railway pass covers or other knick-knacks or sing for alms..
The there are the Beauties. I wonder how many people it has struck that some of the most beautiful women in the country may be found in the local trains. Especially in the morning. These are not your glam-dolls like on TV but the simple, graceful, well-dressed women you see everyday. I don’t speak for others, but there’s something about their simplicity, and the way they carry themselves that makes them seem more beautiful to me than any star I can compare with. Maybe it’s the glow on their faces, the one that says they’ve lived, faced things…
Occasionally, I also see slightly older women who are nevertheless beautiful. I always think “She must’ve been really beautiful in her youth.” Old or young, there is something about them that makes me want to talk to them, ferret out their stories coz I think they’re interesting. They have had experiences worth listening to. I get these ideas of going and saying “Hey, I’m authoring a book on train-life. You look like you have an interesting story to tell, mind if we talk?” But no, I know the value of privacy, and I happen to be shy too, so the actual talking never happens, its only my imagination that can only take me so far. Today, I saw this young girl, extremely beautiful, with her hair cut suggesting something of a rebellious streak… I could almost imagine her not wanting to be thought feminine.. she had lovely features, really beautiful lips and eyes that held something in them. I wish I could’ve talked to her.
Its rare that I get the window seat, I usually end up watching people… but there have been days when I’ve looked put of the window and seen something interesting. Like, as you near Dockyard road station, look up and you’ll see this hilly place like it is in a hill-station, dotted with green bushes and flowers… it makes me want to take a walk there.
Then, as you near Vadala Road station, there are houses and colonies to be found near the tracks. Little tings, hardly any size… but they have yards… most of them. And the yards have jasmine shrubs, little trees.. just like the homes in the small towns. And there are boys playing in the compounds… an utter ambience of bon-homie.. I wistfully wish I could live in such happy places with the shrubs in the garden and pick the flowers every evening.
I don’t know how long I can continue traveling like this, but while it lasts, I shall enjoy the little moments of interesting sights while I’m blessed with them.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Monday, April 03, 2006
To The Lady Who Refined Me, Defined Me
Dear Ms Imelda,
I hope this finds you doing well. I am not sure that you would remember me, but I would like to think that you do. I hope you do.
I’m DDD. Or DD, as you knew me. It was in 1993 that we first became acquainted. You were my class teacher for two years from then, in my 4th and 5th standard. I vaguely remember thinking that you appeared a little strict. It was just one more year after all, and another new teacher to know for a year and then greet whenever I saw her again in school or out of it. But how things can be so different from what you imagine them to be!
I guess I must have been just another student in that entire class for you, at first at least. And it isn’t for me to say what changed and how, but gradually, in your own way, you started to mark me out.
I remember you berated me umpteen times for being lazy and not participating in any of the events. I always used to give some excuse or the other. But one fine day, you succeeded in making me participate in a painting competition. It wasn’t the greatest entry, not that I was much of an artist, but you thought I hadn’t tried enough and said so. But that was a beginning.
I used to think you were rather strict and wouldn’t let me be. But slowly, I also realized that you praised me when I did well, looked out for me and genuinely wanted to see me doing well. I’m afraid I took my time realizing that. I clearly remember how you scolded me for neglecting to answer an entire section in my mid-term math paper.
After that painting competition, school ended in a few months and I thought no more of things except to worry about the result.
When the next year commenced and we had you for a teacher again, I was half inclined to think ‘Oh dear!” but I was also relived at the thought of having to spend the year with someone who knew me well. I think that was the best thing that could have happened to me then.
You started right where you left, encouraging me to give everything my best. I remember how you put my name in the English story telling competition despite my protests. I also remember the pride in your eyes when I won the second place. You encouraged me to participate in everything, singing, dance, debates, elocutions, quiz, general knowledge…the works. And every time I won, you were the proudest. In fact, that was the year I won the most prizes.
You made me the group leader. You let me come to your table and hold conversations with you and the class toppers when I should’ve been working. You thought of me as belonging among them. You even insisted my parents buy me a choice Hero pen to improve my handwriting. I remember how happy you were the day I scored 94 n my math paper. I was still short of getting full marks, but for you, it was as if I had achieved full marks.
I also remember you used to call me ‘foreigner’ and ‘dictionary’ because I was good with spellings. It never failed to make me smile.
We had made class charts one year. With every student’s name on them and each got a star or black mark according to their performance. I remember not completing my notes on time, but you didn’t give me a black mark at all. Perhaps you sensed that doing so would’ve made me lose faith in myself again. You refrained at any rate. In fact, I’m sure you took a lot of trouble to ensure I sailed smoothly. I can never say at what cost, but I hope you’ll find that all the trouble you took for my sake was worth it.
I don’t know how much of this you would remember. I know I have missed mentioning many more things. But what I want to say is this. What I have mentioned is only what I saw you doing for me. I only saw you encouraging me to do well. I was glad of it and grateful to you always.
But it only after years have passed that I realize the true depth of your actions. I lacked confidence in myself. You changed that. Life was just a series of days after another. You showed me there’s more. You showed me that life needs to be lived fully; that you should use what gift you have to make life worth something. You made me realize that just because one isn’t good at something does not mean they’ll always be like that. You made me realize how much I was missing out on just because I did not try hard enough. You pushed me and made me push myself to achieve. You gently pointed out my faults and did your best to help me change them. You let me discover myself and realize that I could make something of myself. You inspired confidence in me and made me feel good about being me. You moulded me into what I was to become. I was a lost, confused and frightened little kid. It was you who changed me. If I improved in academics and other things after that, if I acquired a personality, it was because you were there for me.
My gratitude to you is beyond words. I wish I could express my thanks, but it’s only felt. I hope that at least that feeling is communicated to you.
Teachers come and go with every passing year. They are always respected. Some you like and they like you. Some you don’t. As you grow up, teachers also become objects you ridicule (I hope I’m never found guilty on that count). Some of them leave you with faint memories of good times. Some teachers you’d rather forget. Some leave you with the kind of learning you’ll never forget. You fall in love with a subject because of the way a teacher taught it. Years later, you can still recollect how wonderfully interesting a subject became thanks to the teacher, you even remember parts of what was taught. This is what every person inherits in their schooling culture.
But there are teachers who do more than just teach subjects, give homework, punishment, maybe share a few laughs and conversations and go home and forget about you till the next day. Teachers who realize the wealth of their profession; who are genuinely concerned about making worthy citizens of their wards. Teachers who devote themselves to bringing out the best in a child when they see the goodness buried within. Teachers who know that a bit of love and attention can do wonders for a child and provide it because they know what a difference it makes. Teachers who go that extra mile and give that extra chance because they have faith. Teachers that build the foundation for the person’s achievements in life. Teachers who change lives.
You are the teacher who did that for me. You changed my life completely. I never thought I could be a person worthy of notice. But you made me see myself differently. You told me in I mattered; in a manner that wasn’t overt, but more powerful than had you been more direct. All that you did then affected my decisions later on. Since the years you were there with me, I consciously did better, thought about what I could do to be a winner and strove to achieve that. You touched my life and inspired me like no one else could.
You’re the best teacher I ever had. Thanks to you, I am a confident, mature and ambitious young lady who wants to get the best out of life. How do you thank someone who has done so much for you? I don’t think I can ever do that satisfactorily. Its one of those paradoxes. I deal with words and am capable of shaping wonderful things with them, but to thank you is something I would fail at. But I hope you will know how grateful I feel to you.
I’ve known other teachers who mean a lot to me… but you’ll always be the first. After all, they only worked on what was already there… the foundation for that was laid by you.
I ought to tell you. I am now 21. I graduated last year, with a major in journalism. And I am now working for Bombay Natural History Society in Bombay. I am involved in the production of their magazine Hornbill. I really love my work and there’s nothing else I would rather be doing. All this has been possible because you guided me to reach for the sky all those years back. Thank you.
I am sorry it took me this long to write to you and convey my gratitude. But I waited till I could feel I was somebody. I hope that I shall be able to see you soon and thank you in person.
With warm regards and heartfelt gratitude,
Yours sincerely,
Anu.
I hope this finds you doing well. I am not sure that you would remember me, but I would like to think that you do. I hope you do.
I’m DDD. Or DD, as you knew me. It was in 1993 that we first became acquainted. You were my class teacher for two years from then, in my 4th and 5th standard. I vaguely remember thinking that you appeared a little strict. It was just one more year after all, and another new teacher to know for a year and then greet whenever I saw her again in school or out of it. But how things can be so different from what you imagine them to be!
I guess I must have been just another student in that entire class for you, at first at least. And it isn’t for me to say what changed and how, but gradually, in your own way, you started to mark me out.
I remember you berated me umpteen times for being lazy and not participating in any of the events. I always used to give some excuse or the other. But one fine day, you succeeded in making me participate in a painting competition. It wasn’t the greatest entry, not that I was much of an artist, but you thought I hadn’t tried enough and said so. But that was a beginning.
I used to think you were rather strict and wouldn’t let me be. But slowly, I also realized that you praised me when I did well, looked out for me and genuinely wanted to see me doing well. I’m afraid I took my time realizing that. I clearly remember how you scolded me for neglecting to answer an entire section in my mid-term math paper.
After that painting competition, school ended in a few months and I thought no more of things except to worry about the result.
When the next year commenced and we had you for a teacher again, I was half inclined to think ‘Oh dear!” but I was also relived at the thought of having to spend the year with someone who knew me well. I think that was the best thing that could have happened to me then.
You started right where you left, encouraging me to give everything my best. I remember how you put my name in the English story telling competition despite my protests. I also remember the pride in your eyes when I won the second place. You encouraged me to participate in everything, singing, dance, debates, elocutions, quiz, general knowledge…the works. And every time I won, you were the proudest. In fact, that was the year I won the most prizes.
You made me the group leader. You let me come to your table and hold conversations with you and the class toppers when I should’ve been working. You thought of me as belonging among them. You even insisted my parents buy me a choice Hero pen to improve my handwriting. I remember how happy you were the day I scored 94 n my math paper. I was still short of getting full marks, but for you, it was as if I had achieved full marks.
I also remember you used to call me ‘foreigner’ and ‘dictionary’ because I was good with spellings. It never failed to make me smile.
We had made class charts one year. With every student’s name on them and each got a star or black mark according to their performance. I remember not completing my notes on time, but you didn’t give me a black mark at all. Perhaps you sensed that doing so would’ve made me lose faith in myself again. You refrained at any rate. In fact, I’m sure you took a lot of trouble to ensure I sailed smoothly. I can never say at what cost, but I hope you’ll find that all the trouble you took for my sake was worth it.
I don’t know how much of this you would remember. I know I have missed mentioning many more things. But what I want to say is this. What I have mentioned is only what I saw you doing for me. I only saw you encouraging me to do well. I was glad of it and grateful to you always.
But it only after years have passed that I realize the true depth of your actions. I lacked confidence in myself. You changed that. Life was just a series of days after another. You showed me there’s more. You showed me that life needs to be lived fully; that you should use what gift you have to make life worth something. You made me realize that just because one isn’t good at something does not mean they’ll always be like that. You made me realize how much I was missing out on just because I did not try hard enough. You pushed me and made me push myself to achieve. You gently pointed out my faults and did your best to help me change them. You let me discover myself and realize that I could make something of myself. You inspired confidence in me and made me feel good about being me. You moulded me into what I was to become. I was a lost, confused and frightened little kid. It was you who changed me. If I improved in academics and other things after that, if I acquired a personality, it was because you were there for me.
My gratitude to you is beyond words. I wish I could express my thanks, but it’s only felt. I hope that at least that feeling is communicated to you.
Teachers come and go with every passing year. They are always respected. Some you like and they like you. Some you don’t. As you grow up, teachers also become objects you ridicule (I hope I’m never found guilty on that count). Some of them leave you with faint memories of good times. Some teachers you’d rather forget. Some leave you with the kind of learning you’ll never forget. You fall in love with a subject because of the way a teacher taught it. Years later, you can still recollect how wonderfully interesting a subject became thanks to the teacher, you even remember parts of what was taught. This is what every person inherits in their schooling culture.
But there are teachers who do more than just teach subjects, give homework, punishment, maybe share a few laughs and conversations and go home and forget about you till the next day. Teachers who realize the wealth of their profession; who are genuinely concerned about making worthy citizens of their wards. Teachers who devote themselves to bringing out the best in a child when they see the goodness buried within. Teachers who know that a bit of love and attention can do wonders for a child and provide it because they know what a difference it makes. Teachers who go that extra mile and give that extra chance because they have faith. Teachers that build the foundation for the person’s achievements in life. Teachers who change lives.
You are the teacher who did that for me. You changed my life completely. I never thought I could be a person worthy of notice. But you made me see myself differently. You told me in I mattered; in a manner that wasn’t overt, but more powerful than had you been more direct. All that you did then affected my decisions later on. Since the years you were there with me, I consciously did better, thought about what I could do to be a winner and strove to achieve that. You touched my life and inspired me like no one else could.
You’re the best teacher I ever had. Thanks to you, I am a confident, mature and ambitious young lady who wants to get the best out of life. How do you thank someone who has done so much for you? I don’t think I can ever do that satisfactorily. Its one of those paradoxes. I deal with words and am capable of shaping wonderful things with them, but to thank you is something I would fail at. But I hope you will know how grateful I feel to you.
I’ve known other teachers who mean a lot to me… but you’ll always be the first. After all, they only worked on what was already there… the foundation for that was laid by you.
I ought to tell you. I am now 21. I graduated last year, with a major in journalism. And I am now working for Bombay Natural History Society in Bombay. I am involved in the production of their magazine Hornbill. I really love my work and there’s nothing else I would rather be doing. All this has been possible because you guided me to reach for the sky all those years back. Thank you.
I am sorry it took me this long to write to you and convey my gratitude. But I waited till I could feel I was somebody. I hope that I shall be able to see you soon and thank you in person.
With warm regards and heartfelt gratitude,
Yours sincerely,
Anu.
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