Maa' m

June 1983. First day of school in a new academic year.

Like usual I was one of the first to reach school. I had to take the best seat. That would be mine to keep for the rest of the year. All assembled and the teacher (I dont remember her name) was doing the roll call.

Kaushik Som! I had to wait for my alphabetic turn. I always had to wait an eternity. Only Sourav Talukdar had to wait longer. My fault! I was born into the Soms.

However my name was not called out. I was apparently sent into section B. They usually knocked off the last names from the list to manage the numbers. I had to face that 3 times in my school life.

So? I took my bag walked across the corridor. And there she was sitting and calling out the names. I now know the word - Ethereal.

Merriam Webster uses the following phrases to describe the word
.. of or relating to the regions beyond the earth
.. celestial, heavenly
.. unworldly, spiritual
.. lacking material substance
.. marked by unusual delicacy or refinement
.. suggesting the heavens or heaven

Parveen Akhtar was all. It was another one of the many ephiphanic moments of my life.

She looked so delicate. She was in a brown cotton saree in keeping with her complexion and the dignity she oozed. Not one pleat was out of place. Thats how I always saw her till the day I left school 10 years later.

Each name rolling out of her mouth was like sweet music. So, she would call out my name every day of that one year in school? Good Morning Maa' m! Can I..??

Did I feel lucky?

I thought so but not till I had walked till the end of the class and took my place among the backbenchers. Ankan Basu and his gang were ready to gobble me up. It was just Std. III but they knew everything. Everything about everything and what made Ms. Akhtar Ms.

I had this strange feeling in my stomach. Ms. Akhtar was there (she was too far) but I felt devastated. My mom was in Nagpur. I had volunteered to come early with my dad. I had to attend school from day 1 so that I could choose my own seat amongst my pals.

What a cruel turn of fate. No friends, sitting in the last bench with a bunch of no hopers. Could people lose hope at Std. III? Tears filled up my heart and forced its way up my eyes. I never cried in school before.

"Maa' m! he is crying".

I didnt want this to happen. I didnt want to be caught up in school crying. Not in front of her. I tried my best to hold up. But I could'nt.

Ms. Akhtar called me up to her seat. I dont remember anything of what she said. However I do remember her hands run through my hair, trying to comfort me. I didnt touch my disheveled locks the whole day till the water next day rolled it straight.

What followed was a year of stargazing, looking at the celestial being, till that evening in Musoorie..

More in Next..

No, this is not Parveen Akhtar. But she would run her close.