She was my not so quintessential English Mam!

Generally me not the one to dig out people from the past (doesn’t imply don’t value the gems who have been part of the journey). Me is the one who believes in moving ahead and meeting and connecting with as many ‘new’ people as one can. There is so much to learn, imbibe,  listen to and absorb from everyone that we meet. Few leave an everlasting impression and few just fade away. But, definitely each touches the strings of soul somewhere somehow. One life and so many souls around to take away ‘the nuggets of wisdom’ from. But this blog is not ‘me’ blog. It’s about somebody who left an indelible impression at a tender age.

She was tall, stout, her hair done flatly and tied in the tiniest of ponytail perfectly complementing her round face. There were always a few grey strands glistening and her not so feminine sandals kept me in awe. Her cotton sarees were draped as casually as one can with even a mismatch blouse at times. One look at her and you instantly knew that she was just not fastidious about the way she looked. She was really unlike a teacher who are known for prim and proper dressing up.   Probably her unique style was reflection of how strong a ‘persona’ she was. She was my English teacher, my Asha Tripathi Mam and just not somebody but someone who I completely adored and was so fond of then and even now.

She spoke with a gentle rather a melodious voice, contradicting her brawny frame. With an amazing ability to connect with students, she was the one you could really walk upto and empty your heart. This was the time when English was still a foreign langauage needed to be learnt rather than spoken from the beginner’s level. A langauge apart from mother tongue is difficult to get integrated perhaps signifying human’s conditioning to immediate environment. Language teachers specially English teachers play a pivotal role in breaking this barrier.

My favourite Mam just did that. And she had to make really extraordinary efforts to make us learn, speak and lay a foundation. Surprisingly, she is the only teacher I remember vividly remeniscing most of her anecdotes….How she used to involve each one of us when encouraging us to speak the language, making us practice and improvising with utmost patience wherever needed. The words that profoundly got etched were ‘to really master a language you have to think in that language’.

The journey progressed. Since social media happened much later so the connection could not be sustained. And when social media’s resurrections  happened, I started to trace this ‘gem’  but luck has eluded me till now. Although I could not find my favourite teacher, she just lingers on in actions, writing, language and even in interactions. I sincerely believe that we carry a bit of our childhood friends and teachers when we shape up into adults. Truly optimistic that I bump into her in real or virtual world and say a heart felt ‘thank you’ somewhere someday!