CANDLES NEVER WORRY ABOUT THEIR LIVES
“Tell me, and I’ll forget.
Show me, and I may not remember.
Involve me, and I’ll understand.” – Tribe Unknown
♠
“Tell me, which is the most powerful intoxicant?” Prof. Sulabha asked my students, who were gathered in our spacious seminar hall.
Unfortunately, none of them opened up their mouth as I was sitting in the back row, listening to her wonderful presentation. Being a very intelligent teacher, having thirty two years of meritorious experience, she could easily sense what could be the possible reason.
“Premji, will you please leave the hall…” she asked me mercilessly.
Students started laughing as they never miss a chance to laugh at their teachers, especially their Head of department!
“OK Madam… I will listen to you from outside,” I walked out swiftly, otherwise she would have asked me to get out!
♠
We had a very special visitor last fortnight. Prof. Sulabha stepped into our house quite unexpected. I was quite busy with the finishing touches of an oil painting, depicting the darker aspects of Russian revolution.
“Premji… It is impossible to find, at least, a good brush stroke in your work. Any fool can become a painter now-a-days,” she passed a harmless comment while judging my painting.
“A poet too!” I replied calmly as she is a quite known figure in modern Malayalam poetry. “Now, anyone can tamper with the crest jewel of art!”
“You are right… One must say a ‘big thanks’ to Lenin… Though he didn’t write poetry, he was the man who liberated poetry from the upper class or aristocracy… The same holds good with painting too… otherwise who would consider your painting as an art work?” She began to laugh loudly. “He made everyone a poet, painter, actor, so and so… Anyone can write poetry! Is that not something progressive?”
“Unfortunately, that’s the easiest way to murder true poetry! If you are able to pin-point at least one writer having the same grandeur as that of Dostoevsky, I am ready to agree with you.”
“No!”
“That’s why Lenin called him an ‘evil genius.’ And systematically, he got rid of all such creative vermins!”
“People should never be over-informed… If so, they will raise unnecessary questions or demands! That’s what our humanist philosophy teaches!” she laughed again.
“At first, they force them to raise questions… and later, they apply force to silence them! History of every revolution is one and the same,” I said.
“Premji… You speak like a right wing member!”
“Of course ‘not!’ I speak like a humanist and I can speak only like that!”
“Aunty, will you please leave him and come with me?” my wife began to pull her hands.
“Baby, it’s not gossip time. It’s the time for some creative discussion. Now, get me some coffee,” Prof. Sulabha told my wife as she was not ready to leave me alone.
“So, how are things after your retirement?” I asked her.
“To be very frank… boring! Children are staying abroad…and I am here…”
“Sad,” I said while applying some more black paint.
“I have joined a civil service academy as faculty for ancient Malayalam literature. Sad, none of the students are really interested in literature. What they miss is passion! Very sad state of affairs…” soon, uneasiness made dark circles around her deep eyes.
“They have another passionate dream… an IAS degree…” I said.
“Why don’t you ask her to conduct a lecture for your students?” my wife interrupted in the middle. “She will do it on free of cost.”
“Literature has nothing do with Automobile Engineering,” I tried to ignore her suggestion.
“You are wrong. Fyodor Dostoevsky too was a Military engineer,” my wife was not ready to leave me.
“She is right… You too are a writer!” Prof. Sulabha laughed loudly.
♠
“Rotation and reciprocation… they are two important basic forms of motion… equally relevant, both in science and life…” Prof. Sulabha began to deliver the keynote address during the inaugural function of our Automobile Association. She did a lot of home work to adsorb the basics of Automobile Engineering. That was a very commendable approach from her end. True professionals are always like that! She is quite beautiful, even in the fag-end of fifties. Though she is bit dark in complexion, her face has an unusual aura. The keynote address lasted only for five minutes as she had a lot to share with the teenage boys.
♠
“Sir, you must be there in the seminar hall while she is taking the seminar,” Mr Saji Kumar, my bosom friend and lecturer in Automobile Engineering Department, reminded me when the felicitations by distinguished teachers were over. “She may not be able to manage one hundred and twenty students. You know them better than anyone.”
“Surely,” I grinned.
“What’s her topic?”
“Who knows!”
“You are the real HOD!” Saji Kumar smiled.
“Real teachers don’t teach, my friend… They pour out their heart…”
♠
The toughest task on earth is to manage teens… Luckily, my sons are little boys. The diploma students were all set to eat her brains. She switched off her mobile phone and kept it on the table. Saji Kumar placed a netbook on the table and switched on the LCD projector.
“Madam… you can have your power-point presentation,” Saji told her while trying to hand over the remote control.
“My friend… I haven’t used any power-points so far,” she replied smiling while fixing a collar-mike. “I strongly believe that it is not at all needed in actual teaching-learning sessions. A true teacher must be able to create all these images in their minds without any such technological aid.”
“As you like, Madam,” he walked away.
“Welcome friends…. What shall we discuss today? The choice is yours,” she began to address the diploma students. None of them replied her as there was an initial hesitation among students. “I would like to have a very good interactive session with you.”
My students are notorious for their non-cooperation, especially for matters outside of their interest. She touched the touch-pad of the netbook and the curser started moving on the brightened screen.
“OK… Let’s begin our discussion with the role of ICT facilities in education,” she continued her lecture with great patience. “Do you know what is ICT?”
Unfortunately, none of them replied!
“OK… They are nothing but LCD projectors, power-points etc… Do you think that they are most needed for education?” Prof. Sulabha tried to ignore the same question put forth by her!
Soon, she could sort out the problem… I was the real culprit and the misfit! Within no time, the seminar hall turned out to be the epicenter of heated up discussions.
I was sitting in the very next room, listening to her wonderful speech. She touched almost every subject under the Sun, flavored with lot of jokes. Laughter was accompanied by laughter…
♠
“What is our next topic?” Prof. Sulabha asked the boys and girls. “OK… Let’s discuss the need of road safety. What do you say?” She asked one of the girl students sitting in the second row.
Unfortunately, she was a bit shy to answer her question.
“What is your name?”
“Shilpa,” replied one of her friends.
“How come you are so shy, Shilpa?”
“She has some sort of inferiority complex,” replied one of the boys and the whole seminar hall was filled with laughter. “She thinks, she is really dark!”
“Is it Shilpa?”
A meek smile appeared on her face.
“Can you see your face without the help of a mirror or something like that?” She asked the all.
“No…” the boys cried out.
“Then why do you worry about your complexion? It is a waste of time. Lord Krishna himself was dark in complexion,” Prof. Sulabha told them. “Shilpaa… You would like to ask me something…” she grinned.
“Yes Madam,” a naughty smile appeared on Shilpa’s face.
“Then, why don’t you ask me?”
“Madam… do you use any cosmetics?”
“No, my dear Shilpa.”
“No?” Shilpa couldn’t believe her ears. “What about in your youth?” She was not ready to leave her as she was able to inject some sort of extra confidence in her.
“Like every woman in her youth, even I was addicted to cosmetics.”
“Inferiority complex?” asked Shilpa.
“I think so,” Prof. Sulabha replied with a cute smile.
“Madam… Our next topic is road safety,” shouted one of the naughty boys.
♠
Almost two hours passed and the seminar hall was still reverberating with laughter.
“Madam, shall I get you some coffee?” I showed my head.
“Not needed… I will wind up with a story,” she smiled.
“As you like,” I walked away.
“Dear children, I started my career as a lecturer in English when I just twenty three. And I got married to one of my seniors in college in the very next year. He is ten thousand times handsomer than me,” she stopped for a moment.
“That’s why you were behind those cosmetics,” boys laughed loudly. “Were it a love marriage?”
“Might be or might not be! My husband hated all sort of cosmetics. But, I was not ready to leave those precious companions.”
“How many children you have?” asked a girl.
“We have two children… a son and a daughter. You know, managing two kids in the morning is a tough task. My son liked chapatis with potato stew and my daughter liked Dosai and Chutney for break-fast. They liked different items for lunch too. Unfortunately, there was nothing in common among them. I had to prepare all these for them. And the same continued even in the night.”
“Madam, you could have kept a servant!” said Shilpa.
“I don’t have a servant even now. And beyond all these, I had to take classes for Master’s degree too,” Prof. Sulabha told them with a smile.
“And you had to find time for your make-up too,” Shilpa laughed loudly.
“You are absolutely right, Shilpa,” she replied as if she was congratulating her. “When my son had turned just twelve, Raj, my husband, got a transfer nearby to our house. You know, my college was just three kilometers away from our home. That was the only solace. Still, I was late almost every day at my college!”
“How did you manage to sign being regularly late?” asked one of the boys.
“Madam… Premji Sir has introduced academic monitoring system to nail us all!” shouted the back-benchers.
“Our principal was a soft-hearted man… and I misused that opportunity the most, even-though my husband used to drop me many times. Still, I used to be late… Our HOD never allotted first hour to me. What could be the possible reason? Can anyone tell me?” Prof. Suabha asked them.
“What else, other than your make up!” The students were enjoying the session as if someone among them was conducting the seminar.
“And my children left for school… I had a quick bath… I was trapped by make-up!”
♠
“Raj… I am already late”
“So what? You are late every day…”
“Raaj… please drop me… please…”
“OK… Let me take the car keys…”
“Let’s go by your bike,” I tossed him the keys.
“OK… where is my helmet?”
“I don’t know… Why do you need a helmet for such a short distance?” I was getting angry. “O… I am already late…”
And we headed to my college.
“Raj… please ride faster… Our new principal is a real nut… and I am sure, he will score at my column today, if I don’t reach there in time…” I was taunting him in his ears.
♠
“I don’t want to remember any further…. More than twenty years passed… All I know is, I am alone from that day, though I feel his presence always…” Prof. Sulabha removed her spectacles to wipe tears, rolling down. A massive silence encompassed the seminar hall. Even the boys couldn’t control their tears.
“Children, whenever you think of buying a cosmetic, think of me… They all contain chemicals… They never brighten your skin… True beauty is your inner-beauty, that only you can feel it the most. Look deep into your mind, yourself, than looking into the painted faces of others,” she stopped for a moment. “Whenever you think of over-speeding, think of me… Speed kills life… Whenever you fail in time management, think of me… You will never be a loser in life! Whenever you feel like drinking a little, think of me… Life is the best intoxicant! Without life, how can you enjoy anything?”
All were crying while smiling… Candles never worry about their life!
Premji