They spoke on how inevitable plastic was in human life from small plastic carry bags to the spaceship; they spoke about how it took thousands of years to decay and created a hole in the ozone layer of the atmosphere. I always listened carefully; much of my general knowledge is to my teacher’s credit.
They always had interesting new topics to talk about, child labour, child abuse, child marriage, brain drain, inter-caste marriages, IIT, Great sSouth Indian legacy, Tamil movies etc. I enjoyed listening to them.
That evening, they talked about the history of the Indian coins. I was so damn excited and curious. They spoke about the barter system of trade and its advancement after the concept of currency was introduced. The father told his sons and daughter stories of how they had silver one rupee coins when he was a young boy and might that they could purchase with it. I was a legacy inherited from the ancient civilizations crossing the Mughal dynasty, jubilated by the British Raj and flaunted by independent India. I was happy to familiarise with my ancestral royalness!
The piggy bank was now full to the brim. The brothers had been contemplating to take the money out and deposit it in a bank, my stay inside the piggy box could be over any day. The day arrived on a Sunday morning when the brothers opened the piggy box and started counting their wealth – all totaled to Rs. 1783 and 25 paisa. They felt happy. Their sister promised to deposit the money in the bank the next day.
Counting their money the boys got pretty excited and spoke about how saving even one rupee a day could be a good start to build up big amounts of money. My teacher appreciated her brothers for saving money and told them this habit will go a long way with them in life. They discussed that with such a large population of our country – if each one contributed just one rupee it could bring about funds for bigger reforms and well being of the society. I was listening to all this and imagining my worth with great interest. This discussion would come to life later in my journey – something that I never knew at this moment.
Next morning the boys went outside the house early and returned with a small garland made of beautiful red, orange and white flowers. The brothers affectionately gave the tiny garland to their sister and asked her to wear it on her hair. My teacher smiled and hugged her brothers.
She left for college sealing the coins in her handbag.
I was remorsefully leaving my teacher’s house. In my head I was recollecting all the good things I had learnt at my teacher’s house and was thanking her for imparting education to me. In some time I would be deposited in names of the Sundaram brothers in the savings account of a national bank.
The smell of those fresh flowers from her hair is sealed inside me.
I will miss you my teacher.
Chapter’s take away -
“Anyone who can give you guidance and share experiences is a teacher. However learning comes with your wisdom – hence what you choose to learn is your call.”
Education is like the play dough – it is soft and pliable. The way we mould it defines our intelligence.
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