“So, Sunday is longer than Monday”. She remarked seeing me

It  was day 1 of the fifth standard. Bad cough and cold, a running nose: I was a moving, talking virus. Mom made me wear a t-shirt underneath my white shirt to school, unaware the sleeves of the inner were longer than the shirt. Everyone in my class laughed at me. I hated her.

She was going to be my class teacher for that year. The comment was witty, I chuckled a bit at the funny part of it. But the whole class laughed at me, I hated her, I hated mom for making me wear it. As a kid, I never took well to sarcasm.

The good student that I was, I went into her good books soon. To be honest, there wasn’t really a good book, she had an open book for every kid she taught. We all have that one person who has the charisma to affect us, to mould our thoughts- she became that person to me.

Everything she said had an effect on me, every small thing. She told the class how important it is to just greet the maid at home, or respect the driver, people supposedly “below us”. My mother had been teaching the same since forever, but the thing common with most kids is that we pay least attention to what our mothers say. We know they are going to love us anyways. Wo do it to our parents, our kids will do it to us. It’s a vicious, never ending chain. I came home and hugged mom that day, just as she had asked us to do.

It wasn’t that I never let her down. I did, I did it quite a few times. The morning of the inter-class basketball match, I realised I didn’t have shoes to wear.

Dad had just fallen ill, I didn’t want to trouble him, I decided myself not to play. I would have gotten ten pairs if I asked, I just didn’t.
The mind of a ten year old, scared of his world falling apart, still adapting to the changing circumstances around him, trying to act mature beyond its age and understanding- it’s a difficult one to convince.

She asked me why I won’t play. I told her I’m sick. She knew I wasn’t. I won’t say anything, I just looked down. She kept asking me why I was doing this. I couldn’t say, I couldn’t let my father down. She always understood me, why won’t she understand that day. She still kept her patience with my stubborn behaviour, she would talk to me later.

The year went on. We were just done with our second term exams. She called me to meet her in the staff room. I was convinced that I had finally breached her patience. She showed me the paper I wrote for my English exam. It had an essay on “my favourite person”. That person ranged from Sachin Tendulkar to Mahatma Gandhi for every kid. But for me it was always dad. The essay was about the gifts he got me, the things he did for me. I don’t know why I ended the essay like I did. I don’t remember much of the essay anymore, but I can never forget those last teary eyed lines:

“Now dad is not well anymore. I try not to trouble him, now I will take care of him.”.

“You made me cry with this”, she said. She asked me if I’m alright, and how things were at home. I said yes and left. She displayed the essay on the notice board on open day, she made me meet every parent, she made them all read it. That day still rates as the biggest highlight of my school life.

As I got promoted to the next class, she invited me to her home. She knew about dad not keeping well. She had paid my school fees for the entire year. She paid it for two more years, until I got a scholarship from school. I  didn’t know what to say, even dad didn’t know what she had planned. My father won’t take favours ever, this time he did, I guess he realised that she cared about me.

She would call herself my ‘godmother’. That’s how she introduced me to some people at a wedding at which I bumped into her. I would have hugged her at that moment, but I wasn’t really too much into the dramatic.

The day I got into the merchant navy, I came home with a box of sweets. Dad won’t talk much those days, he was in the final year of his life.

But he still managed to say this “Did you tell her? Go to her first”. And I did.

Nothing had changed in all these years at her place. The sofa was still in the same place. I would get coke, biscuits and namkeen. And she would always have time for me.

That day I found out why she had always stood by me.

“You know why I helped you son. It wasn’t because you were a good student, there are plenty of them. It was because of what you wrote about your father. I had never expected that from a ten year old. All I knew was, it was important to keep your faith in him, to keep your faith in the good that will happen one day. Good things happen to good people and you are one of them. You will take care of everything, I have seen you grow up to be like that”.

It’s been nine years to that day. They tell me I grew up to be a fine young man. When I look back, I think I grew up to be what she wanted me to be, what she always believed I would become. No matter how dark the cloud, I find my silver lining. I still fold my hands to my maid, I still can’t yell at a waiter.  Whatever she ever said, left an imprint on my mind.

I never thank her for anything, she never lets me. All she says is I deserved it. If I had to thank her for just one thing though, it’s would be for keeping the faith alive in a little boy, making him believe that good things happen to people who do good.

It did, it always will.

Jayant Tiwari, 32, is an officer in the Merchant Navy. His love for the seas is equally matched by his love for the mountains. Friends and family are all that matter, other than his passion for music and travel.