"The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind." - Khalil Gibran
A friend of mine called up to inform that 'the' teacher had expired. I was half asleep while on a journey when he called and the fact took a few moments to sink in. A picture of 'the' teacher went through my mind - He read a passage in his inimitable style, removed his spectacles with his characteristic grace, looked at the bunch of young boys who sat before him and began to explain or rather express the thoughts from the passage. What unfolded then was pure magic - the magic of broadening the perspective of the boys who were on the verge of growing into men. The magic was accompanied by a daily miracle - the miracle of staying calm, staying dignified and staying peaceful despite the variations in seasons, systems and moods. I wonder if he was an inquisitive incarnation of the Buddha!
The first time I watched the movie "Dead Poet's Society", John Keating was no stranger to me. I felt lucky to have had a teacher whose progeny Keating looked like! That might sound an exaggeration, but it is not. The character of Keating simply looked like a younger and a bit more groomed version of the fine English teacher I was blessed to be taught under. Like my teacher, Keating too taught English poetry and relished every bit of it.
I know nothing of his personal life and I was officially his student for hardly ten months. (The official figures rarely reveal ground realities, the same is the case here. I have been his student at heart since the day my soul took refugee in him and I shall continue to be so.) That puts me in a position of insufficient knowledge to describe the man. Men of rational depth cannot be comprehended at least to a considerable extent in years and what information could I amass in months of a man whose only ornament was simplicity? Most attempts to describe simplicity end up either being exaggerated or being underrated. Simplicity is simply simple and so was the man.
But the reason he is 'the' teacher to me is that being his student has been among the most cherished moments of my life time; By no means was I his 'Arjuna' or 'Ekalavya', but he certainly is my 'Dronacharya', who helped me discover a part of myself. I take pride in the fact that few of my first serious write ups were scrutinised by him and those few sessions of discussion I had the privilege to have with him have had immense impact on the way I perceive the world today.
In an era of immense pressure of academic excellence,
when the joy of learning is being drained out from the exercise of
education, he was an exception - a honorable exception. I have seen many teachers consciously or
unconsciously grading students on their academic performance or on the
behaviour of the students, as they perceive. This at times leads to the
danger of appreciation turning into discrimination. I never witnessed
him prejudiced or with preconceived notions. Not a single student was treated with higher priority just because he had managed to score a notch higher than the other. To him every student was
like the other and maybe that is the reason none could claim to be either his
'Arjuna' or 'Ekalavya' !
Never a man to use two words where one would suffice, he made sure that apt words were used so that the expression of a thought did justice to the emotion of its conception. There was a genuine ease in his teaching like that of a naturally flowing river. That ease was not only in the way he taught but also extended into the way thoughts got communicated from him to us. Crystal clarity in every thought he shared was his trademark - making him not just a flowing river, but the pristine flowing river.
Above all, as I think how significant he has been in my life, I realise he is as significant to my writing as is the air to the breath; as significant to my living as is the earth to the tree. It is more like a 'door knob phenomenon', almost invisible but inevitable! He was never one to hog the limelight but characteristically blended with the background. The philosophy of his living, quintessentially frugal but beautiful, preached through practice has left an indelible impression on his students during our all important transition from school to college. His philosophy of life, approach to everyday living, unwavering professionalism fueled with immense passion but subtly channelised were unique, unparalleled and thought provoking. Knowledge, wisdom, simplicity and humanism blended exquisitely in the man that he could have been the best example for having lived a grandly simple life!
As a teacher of a language, he emphasized not only on expression but also on the freedom of expression. Discussing an essay I had written, we arrived at a point on which I suppose he did not agree with the opinion I had expressed. Without imposing his disagreement, he helped me strengthen my argument! Years later when I read Voltaire and Neitszche, I realised how he had 'defended my right to say a thing though he disagreed with what I said!' Open to differing perspectives, the man is among the best I have seen who have lived up to Aristotle's dictum - "It is the
mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without
accepting it." His greatness lay in the fact that he never enforced his opinion or argument on his students but simply unsettled our minds so that we could think for ourselves and frame our own opinions.
Now that I try to digest the hard fact that he is no more, the only ways I think I can pay tribute to him are to unsettle the minds of my students so that they too think for themselves and to commit myself to never submit to preconceived notions, but to stay open, unprejudiced and almost invisible!
