MY BIG KIDS...

Really loved to read today’s blog, Sir.

Two days back, my T.Y. B’Com student, Sweety, commented on my blog. I had written about two of my very close friends, Tanish and Yommie… nine-year-old chaddi buddies. And, Sweety had loved it. I had sent a quick reply to her:

Thank u Sweety... Glad u liked this 'kid-stuff'!

My next post will be on 'big kids'... Sweety and her gang!!!

Love,

Sir.

This morning, there was this rejoinder from this young lady:

 Hahahaha thank you so much sir!!!

 It would be my pleasure

 if you write something   about me and my mischiefs…

because, in your stories, there is always a part which tells

what you experienced or felt.

 I would love to know that through the blog.

SWEETY.

My response to Sweety’s wish was instant.

Madam, I will write today, I promise!

Thanks for reading and trusting in what I write!

Love,

Sir.

Before that, I called up Sweety. “Are you sure, you would love what I am going to write about you, today?” I asked.

“Absolutely, sir,” I was told.

“But then, you know - what I write and how I write… Think again, Sweety,” I reminded.

“I know sir - what you write, how you write… and why you write. So, write!” Sweety’s trust in me was rock-solid.

So, here I go. Writing about this one-of-a-kind gang of ‘big kids’. Of T.Y. B’Com, to be precise.

Sweety comes to my class on her scooty. She is just about 110 kilos! She loves to be in her pant-and-shirt outfits, always… and, with her heavy helmet on her head, she also loves to take one or two of her friends on her phat-phaty. 

Sweety is the gang leader. And, the gang loves this leader. The last bench, window-seat suits this madam. It suits me, as well. 

I am a serious person. 

These big kids know it, 

and they, perhaps, 

do not like to see me that way, 

with my moron face. 

I have this gut-feeling, 

when I look back on all the mischief

unleashed by this gang-leader in my class – 

that, she wanted me to learn

that one lesson 

I needed the most in my life: 

“Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff!”

Yes, as much as I tried to drill in these hardcore fun-lovers the value of being ‘serious about life’, Sweety wanted to put in my thick skull the value of being light-hearted.

“I am giving you five minutes,” I would declare to the class, “I want you to focus on your own… and try to solve this point when I come back… Remember, I am going to ask you some questions.”

After five minutes, when I return, what I would witness, invariably always, is a ‘Jail-break’!

The focus and solution is a distant reality. It is time for one more sermon. And, for Sweety, it is time for one more chance to teach her sir that very, very important lesson, “Come on sir, just let go… It is okay.”

I would also hear, late at night, one more voice, “Sir, trust us, we are ‘big kids’… big enough to take care of our lives!”

It is only on hearing this late-night voice from a quiet corridor of my heart, that I would feel the silence, and I would be able to retire for the day with a child’s smile in my heart.

“Sir, I will be late for the class, today,” one afternoon Pinky’s voice on the phone sounded very hurried, “May be, I may miss the class today.”

“Why, what happened?” I asked.

“I am in the Police Station,” Pinky criptly said. 

“What?” I shouted.

“I have dragged this ‘pest’ to the Station,” Pinky, who is as thin as a famous, dry-Bombayduck – the Sukka Bombil – had dragged a Roadside Romeo to the Police station for blowing hearts at her!

“Who is there with you, Pinky?” I asked with a real concern.

“I am alone, sir. I can handle him,” the Bombay Duck declared.

“Why didn’t she call Sweety?” was my first thought. Then, I realized how effective had been the training by this leader!

“Kudos!”

The next lecture, I had a real good time. Pinky, Sweety’s gang-member, taught me one more lesson. This time on self-defense: ‘How to deal with a Roadside Romeo?’ 

Perhaps, it would be useful to my wife, you see. They know, I do not have a daughter!

Nivedita, my twelfth-standard student, would attend this T.Y.B’Com class just to brush up some advanced Accounting concepts. These CBSE kids have some of the TY chapters, and I would encourage Nivedita, who loved Accountancy, to attend this T.Y ‘fish market’! Incidentally, this studious student, Nivedita, would prefer to sit next to our Sweety on the last bench. Never had I got irritated with this girl, never had I scolded… as she never gave me a chance. But, one afternoon, I lost my cool and shouted at Nivedita. She was giggling, and I wouldn’t swallow that. 

Then, the class got over. All went home, including Nivedita. I kept getting irritated even till the evening. Finally, I sent a message on Nivedita’s cell: “Don’t sit with that fatso.” 

“Why, sir… Why?” Nivedita did not like me using such words at another student. Obviously, a teacher had no business to do that!

I wanted to save my face. “Nivedita, I am sorry," I explained. “See, I like Sweety as a student, and as a person… She is intelligent and so full of life. I love it. Now, you sit with her… She has this habit of cracking comments and you laugh… and then, you get into trouble like this. I don’t like to scold you.”

The next class, even though I did not mind Nivedita sitting over that explosive mine, she quietly chose to sit in one of the front benches!

But, I am sure, Nivedita still finds nothing wrong in sitting next to Sweety… and giggling a little.

Frankly, me too!

One day, Sheetal was waiting outside the class. I had already overshot by ten minutes. I was not able to understand why this madam was not coming inside. I knew, Veena was her best friend and she had still not reached. I knew, they, always, yes always, came together, left together, giggled together and sulked together.


“Tell her enough of waiting for her partner… Let her come inside,” I told Sweety. “Rab Ne Bana Di  Jodi.” I mocked.

“Amber Dhara, sir!!!” Sweety and her clan yelled. 

“What is that?” I wanted to know.

I was told by Sweety that it was one of the old T.V. serials. The story of two conjoined sisters who were joined at birth and lived so together. The adventures of these inseparable twin-sisters!

Veena took another ten minutes to arrive, and our Sheetal waited. When they walked in, even I joined the chorus, “Amber Dhara!!!”

I had stopped sweating. Yes, it was all a small stuff!

Once my class is over, they are supposed to disperse. Go home. My class is in a housing complex… and I do not want my students to cause any sort of inconvenience to the residents here. So, I insist that all my students don’t overstay, don’t create any commotion outside. But, Sweety would not allow me to implement this Decree. Everyday, she has to huddle-up with her dozens and gossip so loudly that it is a sheer miracle that our building still stands!

I am lucky, that my neighbors have left me in peace, though my students have not left them so!

So, now the exams are closing in. Where does this batch stand?

Without a second thought, I can say this:

“They will do well… not just in their T.Y. exams… but in Life as well.”

And, where do I stand?

I too, will. Thank you Sweety. You and your gang have taught me to laugh a little… to say, “Hey, it is okay!”

This is the story of Sweety. The one who always laughed. And, who made others too do.

  

Only twice did I see Sweety in tears. Once, when she was in her S.Y. B’Com, I was really provoked by some of her mischief and I had used very, very blunt words to make her come around. She did… But, not before shedding a bucket of tears… She had cried so uncontrollably and loudly, I had really got scared and repentant. After the class, I had apologized and she had kept telling me, “Sir, you don’t have to say Sorry… It was my fault. I will not repeat.”

Well, all that I can say about it is this: "So sweet of you to say that , Sweety… But, you still repeat… Though I don’t as much as you do.”

The other time I saw Sweety in tears was some three years ago. One evening, her elder sister had brought Sweety to enroll in my F.Y.B’com batch. While talking to them, I realized that they were three sisters, Sweety being the last. They lived with their mom and their dad had passed away when Sweety was just in  K.G. They had a cloth shop in the famous Gandhi Market near Matunga and their mother and the three daughters made rounds to run it. I was curious to know, how Sweety’s dad, who had started that business ,  had passed away when she was so small.

The sister, who had come along, was just older by some years. She narrated to me the tragic incident. It is still etched in my mind… so graphically.

It was the Raksha Bhandan day. Sweety’s mom had taken the three little kids and gone to her brother’s place to tie Rakhi. Dad had to mind business; so, he couldn’t join them. Late that night, when they returned home, their dad was still not home. They tried to contact him on his shop phone… No response… They tried to call his friends and other shop-owners… They had no clue. Finally, all three of them went to the godown which was not far from their home. Their godown was so stuffed that they could not even open the main door… Somehow, they managed to do. Then, the mother sent the eldest daughter, who was just about ten years, inside to search. No, she couldn’t find her dad, there. Finally, the mother managed to sneak in… No Sweety’s dad was nowhere to be seen. Then, all of a sudden, the mother’s eyes fell on a massive heap of cloth… just beneath that she sighted the feet!

Sweety’s father had been crushed to death under that load! He was all alone… and could not save himself!
 

As the elder sister graphically recounted this tragic tale, I saw Sweety's tearful eyes.


“I am sorry… I should not have asked you about it,” I said really feeling sad and guilty.

“No sir, it is okay,” both the sisters calmed me down!

“…Because, in your stories, there is always a part which tells

what you experienced or felt…”  Sweety had written in her comment. 

This is what it is, Sweety.

Hope, you would still stand by your words: 

“I know sir - what you write, how you write… and why you write. So, write!” 

Wish you all well in life, all my dear students. As I keep saying always, I have not taught you to secure good marks in your exams. Hope, you now realize, what for, then?



* By the way the class has many boys, too!

GERALD  D’CUNHA

Pics.: Vivek D’Cunha