And the yarn starts when I was in fourth standard on 9th February,2007 at St.Carmel Convent School (Jorhat,Assam,India) where I was just known as a ‘infirm’ student and not by my name.
Not that incident,date or time but that person changed me into a better human. For the first time when a person made me feel special. For the first time a philosophical kid was loving to hear the frail taunts about herself. For the first time she was apt to sit alone at recesses time. And for the first time she was being treated vulnerable.
                                                  “First impression is the last impression”  
And this so true. No impression was more resonant than my Teacher. Even today she remains vivacious in my soul and in my world.
                             “Teaching is not a service, profession or a job. It is a pillar of the society”
Well,my narration starts in class four when the whole class was just at verge of reciting the morning prayer at school. But just then my computer teacher entered, requesting my class teacher to standby the prayer and said:
                                                “Excuse me Reena teacher,where is Randhir”?
I raised my hand from my position. She passed a beam and said:
                                                             “Happy Birthday to you”
It was just from that day I realized that she too had her Birthday on the same date. And every now and then we celebrated our Birthday’s together.
No matter how much I was discriminated emotionally and mentally. No matter I failed to give good result to my other teachers. No matter I was being teased. All that matters was and is my teacher’s appreciation towards me. How being a kid I was cohered to this world. At a very tender age I knew the difference between the good and evil. I faced the agony of being a lame student, of being a pale figure in my friend circle. But one person who made my school life memorable is than that of my dearest Sobha Bothra Pincha Teacher. No boon of a child in her life, black hairs are turning into grey but her nature seems everlasting for all her students because she is and had been a great motherly figure. Her words to me:
                                               “Help me to keep the smile on my face”
And I am following her words. From her I get the strength to give respect to all my teachers who have crossed my way. Not a single teacher is untouched by my loving gratitude that I owe. Some students celebrate teacher’s day on 5th September, I celebrate it everyday. And today I am glad to hear the applaud from my teacher’s not for my good results but for being a good Student. For once I regretted. Today I have no regret because I take pride in being taught from my Sobha Teacher.
Dear teacher your advice, wisdom and teachings will remain engraved in my life. Good teachers teach because they are passionate about teaching. Great teachers like you, teach to make the world a better place.
If I am successful in any way today, be a good daughter, a good friend, a good consoler, a good sister, a good person or a good student. I owe all and all to you Sobha teacher. And if I am able to write this in the honor of you it because you taught me the value of letters. All these years I kept asking and you kept giving. Now I think its time I started giving back and it all begins with two simple words-
                                                                        “Thank you”

When she was 5
She drew a picture with the colors of the rainbow
It made everyone happy
Her teacher gave her a "star"
Her parents gave her a kiss
And tucked her in, warm and snug
Dreaming of fairies and princesses

When she was 15
She took a picture where everything was black and blue
It made everyone uncomfortable
Her teacher took her to the counselor
Her parents gave her punishment
She tucked herself in bed, with bruises and welts
And waited for the horrible nightmares to begin

When she was 25
She painted a scene where everything was gray and bleak
She didn't show it to anyone
But continued to see the counselor
Her boyfriend continued to beat her
She passed out in the living room, knocked out cold
With no dreams, nor nightmares to spare

Now she's 35
She wrote some words in red
Hoping for someone to finally see
She didn't visit the counselor, didn't take her medications
Life finally beat out all the fight in her
She saw herself covered in a sea of crimson
Warm fluid running down her wrists
Her vision began to blur
As she welcomes this final sleep

I wish I could write
Of beauty and perfection
Of the sheer power of your eyes
That takes my breath away

I wish I could write
Of happiness and peace
Of the comfortable bliss
Of coming home in your arms

I wish I could write
Of love and affection
Of what you make me feel
Of what you mean to me

My words are sorely lacking
Never enough to tell you
That being with you is exquisite and exhilarating
That you light up my life in every way
And I love you with my entire being

In an alternate reality
In another time, another place
In another circumstance
You'd still be part of my life

You'd share my happiness
Partake of my sadness
Be with me in times of boredom
Hold my hand during my bouts of madness

When I felt worthless
Remember what you told me,
That I was the best in everything that mattered
You made me feel golden

Now there's only emptiness
Only cold and numbness within...
It's not as bad as it seems
It only hurts when I breathe

I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough
I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough
I hope you know what you mean to me
I hope you feel that I think of you
Do you miss me, like I miss you?

It is the secret fear of being unlovable that isolates me
Of not finding it
Of not recognizing it
Of not being deserving of it
Of not being capable of it

It paralyzes me at that precise point between sleep and wakefulness
Digging its talons into me
Keeping me captive at that area where dreams dissolve into nightmares
Whispering its rabid venom
Consuming me, driving me to near madness

I cannot recall at what point I actually awaken
It's realism disorients me
The fear stays with me, just beneath my skin
Wanting, waiting...always just waiting
My lover... My monster