The Teacher

Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more chance to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever?

I wish I had that chance. It is only when you lose someone, that is, when you realize how much that person meant to you. I am left with no words to say and hundreds of feelings to express but none can be said without hoping that I wish I had just one more chance to hear the voice, to just hear the words and have few more thoughts to exchange with him before he left us with this gaping hole of absence.

I call him the Teacher though he was more than that for me, for everyone.

He was a mentor and my tutor for as long as I can remember. His values, his principles, his thought process was so noble and straight-forward that he taught me more than any teacher of my school.

A man of simplicity and humility, he had no air or any pride. He was soft-spoken and everyone respected him. He was honest, a man of values and full of love and affection for his family. He adored his grandchildren and always beamed with pride when he mentioned both the sons and daughter-in-laws. For him, his family was above all.

I have all my best and most cherished memories revolving around him. For me the image in my mind is not of the frail, delicate man but of the one who would take me for long walks to the park; who used to be full of joy if I would ever win any prize in the office or stood first in the class; who would spoil me with chocolates and random ice-cream treats; who now and then shared with me words of wisdom.

I owe almost all my knowledge to him. He always sensed the potential in me and made me stretch to that point so I could excel in academics. He always encouraged me in whatever I would want to pursue be it studies, hobbies or career related. He gave me his full support in every decision that I ever made.

The thought of not having him around will be a bit difficult to get used to. Time heals grief they say, I wonder if this can ever be healed.

I will miss his luminous presence in our family. His timely calls every night just to hear my voice. The long awaited trips to home so I could atleast meet him.

I know it is hard, but part of me is happy that he was relieved of all the sufferings.

I am supposed to be good at expressing what I feel through my writings. But this is tough and somehow almost feels like ripping your heart out.

This was not supposed to be a tribute or a eulogy. This was intended to be part of the 12 people who impacted my life. I regret that I never wrote this any time soon for him to read.

I read somewhere that the world is not a wish-granting factory but if there is one wish that can be fulfilled then I wish to hear his voice one last time. For him to tell me that he is all good and then wish me “Goodnight Rani bitiya” one last time.

But now this will end up being just a wish.

May you always rest in peace.

Love you Baba.