Someday I shall taste freedom. Till then I will make do with silence.

With silence comes peace, with peace comes freedom, with freedom comes silence... PoF

To Sir, with love

Long ago when I was still just about 5 feet tall, lanky and a teetotaller(not to mention thirteen years old), I first knew competiton. In academics. Our mathematics teacher introduced me to it. The man was originally a chemistry teacher. But he managed to teach us algebra in the seventh standard with equal ease. He used to assign us algebra problems in class and the first student to complete them successfully, got a "very good" in his/her exercise book. This small prize made such fierce competitors out of us, that I still remember pushing my then best friend down and running so that I got the "very good" on my notebook. One whole year of this and I ended up with the most number of "very good"s in the whole class. He never taught us maths again. Instead, he taught us chemistry. Which I was also good at, but not extraordinarily good. I was better at talking in the class, fighting behind his back and all such other noble deeds. He caught me more than just a few times. All I got was "Ah, Suddha, why do you do such things?" Considering the man's reputation for beating up even girls when he was disturbed, that was a bit of something. Few years down the line, as we moved up to the eleventh standard, I decided to leave school. For another school, ofcourse :| The news was duly conveyed to him. He smiled and wished me luck. New school was yet to begin, so I was still attending classes in the old school. One fine morning, me and another classmate ran into his chemistry lab class 10 minutes late. The classmate got a severe piece of his mind but I was let off. On being asked why was I let off, he just smiled and said "Whats the use of scolding him? He's going to leave us anyway." Later that day, in a chemistry theory class, he came upto me, stood by my side for a little, put a hand on my shoulder and said "You are really going to leave us, aren't you? Please don't." I couldn't say a thing. Instead, I just tried to hold the tears off.
I have been a student for the last twenty two years. I have come across a lot of teachers. Some I liked, some I didn't. Some liked me, most didn't. But there never was another who loved me more than him. And there never was another who gave me something more valuable than he did. Now, when a friend calls me up and says "Sir is seriously ill" or when the man himself looks up at me and says "Ese dekhe jaas bNeche roilam na more gelam(come and see if I am alive or not)", I cannot hold back the tears. I know, he won't read this ever. But this is just to let him know that we all are with him, we will do anything within our powers to get him better. Anything. This is to you, Sir. Get well. Mighty soon.

Is it a sin to be sad at someone's happyness? Someone you care for, someone you love? Is it madness to want to hurt that person for being happy? Even if it is, I couldn't care less. I can't help the insanity. I can't. Not anymore.