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Note# 3: My Favorite Teacher

When I was studying in class 7th or VII standard in Govt. Senior Secondary School, Sector – 10, Chandigarh, I had an English teacher, Mrs. Grover whom I was very fond of. I migrated to this school from a private school where English was not taught very well. She was one of those rare teachers who were able to provide undiscriminating attention to her pupils, despite teaching a class of up to 35 to 40 students.

She expected nothing less from us. Not that she was strict. Her lessons were so simple and interesting that they were in quality equivalent of Shakespeare drama or Keats poetry. I vouch that most of us had good grades and grip on this language because of her and still clueless how this change occurred.
Once it was my benchmate’s birthday and she was disturbing me quite during her class. She still had to announce it. I suddenly raised my hand and told my teacher that she was disturbing me. After this, she made her stand and asked for forgiveness. Later, someone told that it was her birthday too. She called her before the class and with much love wished her all the best and celebrated it among other students.

I felt bad what I did to her oblivion of all this.

As the education hierarchy is build, we learned generic self protection behavior of plants with formation of thorns or use of mimicry with presence of dull leaves/foliage and also sometimes with emanation of stench. We take that guarding is essential to us but the elders should inculcate in us basic social skills so that we could be beneficial to our society with use of our personal and professional skills.

As I look back, I find that celebration of life is actually consideration of all facts. If one only celebrates good facts and ignores what is harming oneself and others too, it goes in big way to do the worst. Mrs. Grover remains an inspiration to me that cannot be replaced throughout my life.

Eventually, today I am a poet and writer and remember her many times for this gift.

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Echoes, my new poetry book

Echoes published by Write India is recently released in September.  It has been an amazing experience to through them once again and truly as desired they echo through mind and soul.

Here is blurb at back of book:

Consistency where life frames women in different roles and you feel inhabited.

In such serenity I sit and think saturated with thoughts.  A woman speaking of in her element perennially devises how way further will be for her without the barriers of struggle.  Nature is succour.  One easily connects with primal action born of thought. As innate as vital energy of mind and body, the poems here touch aspects of womanhood subliminally.

It would not be in woods or meadows far reaching only through echoes, it would beat deep inside throbbing and touching through aspects of life.



A Poem from Echoes:

Cold winds with those dark clouds
on my sky are my aspirations
where horizon of blue sublime,
tiny corpuscles of lime,
from where I have sprung and this haste
do I even know the melody…

Again the Sky

First published on Literary journal.

Today showered again the sky I wondered if soaking the streets I choose to ignore.
Small leaves sprout and crawl inside me, branches spread out, straws are collected nests are created.
Lone pathway on feet speck of air or earth so full, and my own heart's silence in this moment's time.

Moon and stars

moon again behind
the hills what
myth I build on my story


******

a star out of canvas
I am 
here with truth


*****

few stars in sky
and angles in and out 
can't locate more

******


only one more round
at moon hedge
full of jasmine