Mummy & School

Ever since we (speaking on behalf of my sister too) have gained sense of the world, Mummy and school has been conjoint words for us. My mother is a school teacher who retires today. After working for 39 years and 9 months. Retiring as Headmistress of a school where you started working would be special; and Mummy has had a unique stint. Joining as a teacher in a school which was established in 1977, and well before she was married, Deulbera Colliery Model Nodal High School (current name; else for us it has always been Model High School) has been an integral part of her life.

We stayed close to the school. In a Miners Quarter (MQ in short) allotted to teachers. We could hear the school bell ring (the piece of railway track iron with a hole made in it) at 10 in the morning, then the recess and so on. School, though we didn't study there, has been an integral part of our lives as well. 

My earliest memories involve being pampered by Mummy's colleagues, going on school trips, being around in umpteen number of school functions which would involve song preparation (In the karaoke days, those sessions don't happen, so iykyk), Ganesh puja & Saraswati puja at school, the sports days, etc. In summers there would be "bundles" of answer papers at home which Mummy would correct and sometimes I got to add the marks of. There would be morning school on Saturdays and in later years in scorching summers of Odisha.

39 years and 9 months is a long time. Mummy has seen up close the school transform from being a colliery school (Talcher is India's top coal producing city), to semi-govt status, to being accorded high school status and finally at the end of her career being "transformed" (infrastructure upgradation) as per an endeavour of the Odisha government.

Back in the day whenever Mummy's student would cross path on the road on a bicycle, whatever the speed, they would get down, to pay their respect. I found it very amusing and quite irksome. I hope they don't do it these days. From what I have learnt, Mummy has been quite a disciplinarian, something that she perhaps have taken from my grandfather and the early headmaster's she has worked under. Never one to physically punish students (something that was common many years back; remember 39 years), her no-nonsense attitude perhaps set the rules.

Through the years Mummy taught various subjects, originally from Sahitya (literature) to history, to Odia and more. The workload at school had only increased over the years and the last stretch of being Headmistress has been stressful for her. But she enjoyed her work. To get things at home done, get ready, wear that saree (earlier there was no uniform for teachers), grab the bag and walk to school (take the auto, later when we shifted house) has been a routine we have witnessed growing up.

Mummy not merely did her job, but her commitment to the school, the burning many midnight lamps (sometimes literally because we had a lot of power cuts) to prepare some or the other document (Hand written. People with good handwriting like her often get more work), to focus on moral values of students, to support (train actually) co-curricular activities of students, bring innovative ideas has contributed in making Model High School stand out among other schools. 

To not do that from tomorrow onwards will be surely different. A 39 years 9 month long routine builds a muscle memory of different kind. The psyche is attuned to that. Couple of generation of men and women have been her students now. Leaving all that, shifting to a new city later, will be challenging and will truly herald a second innings (however cliche the expression sounds). 

An almost four-decade long career, which she herself wonders how she pulled through, has come to a close today. It is time to reminiscence the days gone by, the fond associations, the moments of glory, the richness of service provided, the immense learning that has occurred, the innumerable lives touched. And through those thoughts look forward to better things.

For Model High School, Subhasree Mishra will be an integral part of its existence and growth. For hundreds of students, Mishra didi will have played some role in their lives. For us, Mummy and school will always be conjoint words.

Letter to Aindri on her 7th birthday

Dearest jhia,

You are 7 today. 

From where we started and with what, 7 seems surreal.. You are a tall girl. And you have now not seen the face of the school for 2 years! It will be something to remember. Back to the 6th birthday. The COVID-19 pandemic was on; even though there was a little reduction in the number of cases, we, your parents, being the extra cautious ones that we are (it is up for judgement whether that is a bad thing or good), decided that we should not have any celebration in a closed space and thus opted to do it -- at the beach. So, we packed food, cake, banners, balloons and headed to the beach. We invited just a few people, your friend Tingia made a surprise visit the previous day from Jaipur, and it ended up being a nice celebration at picturesque location. 

Your Mummy then went to Bangalore in February for the annual ritual for nanu; and you stayed back with me. Needless to mention, we lived on pizza and burgers for those two days. In March, after having been at home for one full year, we thought we should take you out and we went to Anejhari, the butterfly camp, which was a good 1-day break. The first quarter of the year passed like that and then the Delta wave (you might learn about that later) gripped India. One of the most devastating scenarios unfolded mid-year, where thousands of people died, hospital beds weren't enough, oxygen wasn't enough in hospitals. There was chaos. It was not a good place to be in; we were scared and for our families staying far away. We tried to help few people as much as possible by either donating some money or calling up people for hospital beds. 

All very small effort, but remember, in such times, even a little counts. A little can make a big difference in someone's life. Often we brush away things thinking it's insignificant, miniscule, unimportant, unworthy but you never know which of it would mean something else for a person. Therefore, help, whenever you can, in whichever way you can, in any measure that you can. 

A few people we know passed away in that brutal wave. We were largely safe, but then in May (19th to be precise), I was diagnosed positive for Covid-19. Though I had a very very mild disease, the scare, especially in the first two-three days was immense. I was at home in the 'sundar' bedroom for 14 long days and it is truly commendable of your mother and you to manage everything at home, with help from no one else. You were scared, but you held up really well. Am very proud of you.

Lockdowns were upon us and we were at home for weeks. When it got relaxed, we hit the beach once in a while. It rained a lot this year, just a lot. And it rained almost until end of November. In November your aunt had to be taken to Delhi for her visa work and we had to thus make a trip to Bangalore. Which we did, and by road (reason: already covered in the beginning; playing it safe, as air travel has more risk of getting infected). And we did that again, in December, when Nanima and Niti left for Sweden. So, in the first trip we discovered that you have motion sickness, you vomited all over me while we were getting back. But you did really well for a 6 year old to make those long trips. In the second iteration, we stayed for longer at Bangalore, helping in packing, etc. 

One of the most remarkable events of the year was your aunt leaving for Sweden to pursue her masters degree. No amount of words can describe her grit. For a quadriplegic, holed up in one room for nearly 10 years, to make a long journey to Sweden, to an ice cold climate, to pursue higher education after such a long gap; and all of it while being limited by the ability to do so many things, is what inspirational books are made of. I am sure you are quietly imbibing many things and we can see that your perspectives of ability/disability are so different and unique. Let no one in future tell you that these are 'woke' things. Those who say such are narrow minded people who have failed to evolve. Basic human decency, the ability to grow and change ones thinking, to be compassionate and to accept diversity are minimum things that we can and should do as a human being. 

This year, when the Covid cases were at the minimum we were also visited by Jema, Jepa, Trisha nani and Hitesh Fufa and it was a good family get-together at Manipal, albeit for just 2 days. It was certainly nice to see everyone. Since Jema is the principal of her school and a massive renovation work of the school is taking place, she could not afford more holidays. Trisha nani kept sending you gifts, and your obsession with 'long dress' doesn't seem to abate. And just prior to that Z uncle and R aunty had come over from Jodhpur and all of us went to Moodbidri for a couple of days; which you kids, Yash and you enjoyed immensely.

In 2021, you took to watching Paw Patrol a lot, Ninja Hattori again towards end of the year, sprinkled with Masha & the Bear, etc. You also took to watching stuff on OTT like Prime - Kalari kids, little bit of Malgudi days, etc. We watch the dance and music show on weekends and interestingly you impeccably remember the names of the participants. You took an online class for chess which you did learn a little. We have been having a lot of 'soup' dinners this year, without relenting on Mummy made delicacies which continues unabated. Few of the Saturdays you went to your best friends house, and then you had to skip your ritual afternoon nap. I would have liked you to make more friends, but that was not to be; I would have liked you to play more sports, but that was not to be; I would have liked you to travel to more places, at least Odisha, but that was not to be. But we have to do with what's dished out under trying circumstances.

Your school has been in an online mode this year largely. When it reopened in November, we decided not to send you; for multiple reasons' one that course was near complete, two that you are doing well academically, three that we are not sure. Frankly, it is important to go to school, not only for the learning part (luckily, we can take care of that at home too; not all can, and thus it is important to go to school. Huge number of kids have suffered learning in the pandemic) but for the socializing part. 

As I write this letter to you, a new variant of coronavirus, called Omicron, is set to spread in India. The cases are rising after a long lull. Things might get little bad in the next two months and this might make you stay more at home and postpone going to school. It is a difficult time to be a kid. I don't know how all of it is going to affect one later. It is challenging as a parent too to walk that line between allowing a free-range childhood (guess you never got one in ours, though for genuine reasons) and being careful.

The world has been chaotic the last year. Science made tremendous progress. Vaccine science, mutli-site drug trials grew manifold in and due to the pandemic. A large telescope James Webb Space Telescope was launched in December which will go very far and tell us so much more about the origins of human life. Edutech grew, albeit not in equitable fashion, exponentially. The US pulled out of Afghanistan creating a huge crisis, the Chinese are sitting on Indian borders, petrol prices hovered above Rs 100 this year, polarization seems to be increasing massively, getting unsafe for women, India included, and it is scary how the public discourse has been. It is worrying to think. Life is weird, it is sometimes the best of times and worst of times to be in.

However, we shall do the best we can. Isn't it? On 31st December, we went to the beach, the lovely one at Kodi, which you love a lot. This is becoming kind of a ritual (your first beach outing was on 31st Dec in 2015). You are super excited, as you rightly should be, for your birthday, which, yet again is going to be 'Elsa' themed. I hope you have a great one.

I love you the most.

Papa

Injured Identities

 

With the flicker of hope finished,

The glimmer of possibility gone,

Scores of us stare into an abyss,

With uncertainty and feeling forlorn.

 

For many years, the home that was,

Torn asunder in a whiff.

Blood, sweat, tears all invested,

Everything stands now at the edge of a cliff.

 

For those who lay the foundation,

Using hands to lay mortar and brick.

An end of a long dream for them,

Even they too couldn’t pull a savior trick.

 

The dream that they nurtured well,

Blazed bright through a new landscape.

Perhaps they never thought it would dim so soon,

From the finality there is now no escape.

 

Those who entered when the portal newly opened,

With dreamy eyes and determination.

They burnt the wick of their prime,

In building a stellar reputation.

 

They took care of the toddler,

Raised it to be successful teenager.

And when the child was separated,

Nothing they could to maintain the merger.

 

The last leg of their marathon,

Now seems like an obscure journey.

The crescendo of their careers,

Now lies uncertain on a gurney.

 

For who joined the song midway,

Rode on the success wave.

Little did they know that it will turn,

A situation so grim and grave.

 

Long years wait ahead of them,

A thousand miles yet to walk.

The uprooting misbalances all the math,

Meaningless appear most routine task.

 

Questions aplenty haunt silently,

With no one to answer the best.

The tables turned for all and how,

People subjected to a very tough test.

 

For some it is about careers,

Loan for some, education for others.

Money for some, for some dignity,

Myriad questions everyday bothers.

 

Where did it all go wrong?

For what fault of ours?

What need does unsettling serve,

The thoughts haunts for hours.

 

All the excellence achieved,

With years of toil.

Did not matter a bit,

When the system came to foil.

 

All the best practices, innovations,

All the records of standing first.

Couldn’t save the situation,

All of it now bites the dust.

 

Uncomfortable silences all around,

Just a façade of laughter.

Plenty everyone wish to share,

But one one’s opening that chapter.

 

What tomorrow beholds is unsure,

Sans an identity, we walk nameless.

Who to turn to or what to,

In the uncertain sea, we sail rudderless.