At the age of mid sixties everything seems to be so perfect and satisfying, but at times life has something to lean on to.
Dr. Sharma has received the highest honorary awards for serving the humanity and for developing remedy for terminal illness of cancer, one day while sitting on that park bench watching sun set, a tear roll down his cheeks, taking him back to the fond memories of Mrs. Mukherjee, the most humble person in his life.
Ram Sharma, a poor weak boy of fifth grade sitting on the last bench with a weird look. His clothes were un-kept and he constantly needed a bath and was unpleasant. That was the first thing Mrs. Mukherjee noticed when she joined the school.
This boy is very different from others.
Mrs. Mukherjee stood in front of her fifth-grade class on the very first day of school in the fall and told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same, that she would treat them all alike. And that was impossible because there in front of her, slumped in his seat on the last row, was a little boy named Ram.
In a very less time Mrs. Mukherjee realized that Ram is a useless boy with lots of arrogance, ill manners , even that he does not respond to the questions asked to him.
But eventually she was required to review each child's records and put Ram’s off until last. When she opened his file, she was in for a surprise.
His first-grade teacher wrote, "Ram is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh." "He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."
His second-grade teacher wrote, "Ram is an excellent student well-liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."
His third-grade teacher wrote, "Ram continues to work hard but his mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."
Ram's fourth-grade teacher wrote, "Ram is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class. He is tardy and could become a problem."
By now Mrs. Mukherjee realized the problem, but annual day was coming fast. It was all she could do, with the school play and all, until the day before the holidays began and she was suddenly forced to focus on Ram Sharma.
Her children brought her presents, all in beautiful ribbon and bright paper, except for Ram's, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper bag. Mrs. Mukherjee took pain to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found red stone bangles with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. She stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bangle
was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume behind the other wrist.
Ram Sharma stayed behind just long enough to say, "Mukherjee Ma’m, today you smelled just like my mom used to."
After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit her further studies . Instead, she began to teach children. Ram paid particular
attention to the one. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. On days where there would be an important test, Mrs. Mukherjee would remember that perfume.
By the end of the year, he had become one of the smartest children in the class and well, he had also become the "pet" of the teacher who had once vowed to love all of her children exactly the same. A year later she found a note under her door, from Ram, telling her that of all the teachers he'd had in primary school, she was his favourite. Six years went by before she got another note from Ram. He then wrote that he had finished high school, first in his class, and she was still his favourite teacher of all time.
Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honours. He assured Mrs. Mukherjee she was still his favourite teacher.
Then five more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his entrance cleared, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still his favourite teacher, but that now his name was a little longer.
The letter was signed, Dr. Ram Sharma, M.D.
The last line of letter was:
“Teacher you have made me what I am today…..Thanks”
Mrs. Mukherjee replied:
“Ram! You have made what I am today. Thanks for making me a teacher”- God Bless!
: Sachin Singh
Fb Flower Basket