WAVING BACK- The day of parting with my teacher : Afterword

‘And the air was full of Thoughts & Things to Say. But at times like these, only the Small Things are ever said.
Big Things lurk unsaid inside’
                 —Arundhati Roy;(GOD OF SMALL THINGS)

       —* —* —* —* —*—*

And those hands...
Kept waving at me-
I waved back, kept waving back,
I wave back, till the memory is
But a distant point in
The Rearview mirror of my life;

A world has left me behind.
I'll have to drive through the
Learning curve, without a map
On my own (My rearview mirror!)
Multiplying the convexities-
Rain drops wash off the memory:
Tears wiping tears!
(The Sky wept with us)

And the melodies echoed...
Across the vales,
The amateur voices resounding
In the mountains, with the
Plethora of heavy emotions
Till it is compressed and fades
Into the lyrics of a known song
The tune...the pauses...
the claps...the rain...
In unison- the pain...
The claps empty,
Losing track of the tune-
Wordless:
You signalled us to STOP
Without words; the journey.
The final moments at the temporary station- halt!
Only the small things ever said,
Big things lurk inside, unsaid

IT'S A MATTER OF TIME; it's going to be okay.
Nearing moments of separation;
Countless words of consolation
Hearts ruffled in agitation
I see all going in vain-
IT WAS NEVER A MATTER OF TIME,
I want to tell them-
IT'S A MATTER OF DISTANCE:
From Mile to mile, from moment to moment,
If only they could experience the same;

And the gate was flung open-
The car zoomed past the storehouse of memories, lit with candles of hope
Into the realm of infinite questions and Bewildered senses (Today the dictionary has fallen silent, wordless!)
Minds confused, eyes moist.

And I find eyes reading my eyes,
Filled with water to the brim
I breathe, heaving a sigh -
A heavy- heavy sigh, a heavy heart
Choked voice, silent prayers-
“I shouldn't weep, I won't" , I tell myself helplessly.
(Let's pretend to be strong for one last time;
Let's fake a smile for one more time)
As I turn and watch
An era disappearing...

And the hands evanescing-
Slowly fading away from my sight.
I want to look back,
“I won't cry but" , I murmur to myself again
Waving... Return the wave, one more time
As the sky betrays me with the tears
(You shouldn't cry)
And, anymore I can't contain
Walking down the memories' lane

And I —
Am already sobbing again!

                 —Sana Shah

SINCERE TRIBUTE- To Bhawana Ma'am- one of the best teachers I ever had

“Yaad-e-ayaam e salf se dil   ko tadpaata hu mai
Behr taskee'n teri janib dauddh aata hu mai"

I make the heart restless from the olden Day's memory
For satisfaction I come ardently running towards you
                      —IQBAL (Lament of separation; in memory of  his teacher, Sir T.Arnold- on parting with him)

When I first read about the bonding between Allama Iqbal and his teacher, Sir Thomas Arnold and how he moulded and influenced Iqbal's mannerisms and ideologies and how on the day of parting Iqbal wrote the poem LAMENT OF SEPARATION for his teacher, Sir T.Arnold, I didn't quite understand what could make any student to write a poem for a teacher and credit him to such an extent; nor could I discern the state of mind or the plethora of mixed emotions that Iqbal would have gone through- But today as I sit restlessly, wide awake around four in the morning, counting on the hours left when my teacher, rather the only teacher I've had in the real sense, would leave us all behind and it's a matter of pity to find myself in such a helpless predicament.

I wasn't expecting such a sudden parting...well, that's life, another name for the unpredictable! I didn't know how to explain what all I was going through- the mere thought of entering the college and she won't be around- leaves tingles running down my spine- From the very first lecture to the very last, it has been such an amazing journey- Bhawana Ma'am- not an ordinary name, rather a legendary legacy( I don't believe in flattery or buttering, ma'am- so please don't even think) Inside the classroom or outside under the sky, what did we not discuss...interactions went on for hours, such fruitful talks that elevated us to a new plane, a new horizon, a new world, all over, the one we had not experienced before... A new door to every house of subject; from sensitive issues like patriarchy to controversial political debates- here was where I found the realm of discussion, dissent, approval and much more. 

When fingers were pointed towards me, I ran to her; when I was confused, I ran to her; when I needed ideas, I ran to her; when something terrible happened, I ran to her, when others wanted suggestions, I ran to her; I have only been running these years as she would have pointed out.But ma'am ab kiske pass jau? Ye tou bataya hi nahi aapne...ab kiske pass bhaagu? Questions unanswered and answers unquestioned!

I will definitely fall short of words in expressing myself and I might just end up crying again :( In fact when we had to order the cake for her farewell, we couldn't decide what to write on it- best wishes, thanks, good luck...then we thought let's write Thanks for everything, but even this everything turned out to be nothing when weighed against all that she had taught us- so we came up with this - Thank you for......

The dot dot dot..implied what couldn't not be listed or weighed or counted- without limits, endless, abysmal as we can't tell where her influence ends or where our decisions won't be governed by her lessons...may be never! But yes those dot dot dot had another implication also- drops of tears...falling and falling- you made us cry publicly, which we never could, so thanks for that as well. Anyway

But yes,the personality, the aura, the confidence, the style, the instant repartee, the blunt sense of humor- yes she taught me that nobody is gonna believe in you until you believe in yourself; developing a sense of self- realization, knowing what your purpose is, what you want and then going after it with all the zeal and enthusiasm. It's from her I learnt that luck, fate are not so abstract as they have been made to appear- it's not a single linearly defined line on which you are computerized to walk, no, rather it's a set of options you make and receive accordingly; those who ask will receive, those who work will be rewarded, provided you realize what you're capable of.

Further do not settle for less when you deserve more- keep expectations, be clever, enjoy life and start living- always remember ‘Life mai koi bhi baat utni badi nahi hoti- ye koi utni badi baat nahi hai'.

Never did she ever say- ‘Tum se nahi hoga ye'  but she was always like: you can do anything.

A box of ready solutions and pointing the could-be errors where there were none! Directly or indirectly I have always conveyed her core message to people around me in one or the other way and of course it helped them too. I fail to understand why could I not say this to her before, face to face...perhaps I was too immersed in the blend of emotions confounding me and still am.

It is from her, I learnt to analyse things with objectivity and logic- Ma'am emotions ka logic tou bataya hi nahi aapne, at least prepare to karna tha humai ki beta aisa bhi hosakta hai.

But on a serious note- people, learn to use reason and logic, especially in matters for which the most quoted rule-book which doesn't actually exist in any tangible form is read out to you by stupid people. Never worry about anything as long as you've done the right thing. Do not pay heed to what others say or how badly they criticise or decide for you because they're not in your shoes and they can't weigh the opportunities for you, when they failed to do the same for themselves- as she would always say ‘Un Sab ne tumhari zindagi nahi jeeni hai, tumne jeeni hai!'

On matters discussed about patriarchy- well here's the take: it doesn't matter if you are a man or woman as long as you consider yourself a human first. Changes do not evolve overnight and anarchy is not an option. But that never means you could allow the tools of oppression to subjugate your individuality in the name of compromise; nor should you pick up the weapon of oppression to oppress others in any way. If we talk about women empowerment, never confuse gender equality with empowerment and stand for what is right, even if it means standing alone. And yes, it's not a matter of shame if men cry, they too are humans- so go on...cry your heart out- talk and not shout, explore options that prevent any harm to those you deal with and of course for yourself as well.And for girls, stop pitying yourself for being girls,you are equal and inferior to none. Stand up for yourself, work smart, become more competent and prove yourself to your own self as well as to the world, you ought to be more competent in all aspects because you will be judged everywhere, every time by the stereotypical heads- hold on and stay strong. Parents teach your sons to respect women as humans, do not teach them the illogical traditionality. For those who prompt like ‘This is not the way,...Aap Ladki ho...' - well, what a news, as if we didn't know, still out of humility thanks for acknowledging!

If you are different and not like others in matter of ideologies and do not follow the masses blindly, then worry not- you are not abnormal- you're a person who can think with a human brain and not a robotic chip computerized to act in that or this way, even if the way is no-way!

Ah, how I wish I could gather more of that ‘gyaan' . let's not be language-puritanical, so I am not bound by language barriers unless I am successful in communicating to you. And nor will I want to impose academic colonialism by sounding technical or using jargons not known to us.Right ma'am?

Talking about our dialogues on Politics- we just talked common sense: connect to the masses and administer in a just way, nothing in extremes and think  for yourself- never be fooled by bumper options but verify on your own.And things change slowly, it takes time but the system would change for the better.

Do what you like, opt for that which you feel fits your aptitude. Science and humanities/arts are equally important and complementary- it's not like science is ‘Sense' and Arts is ‘Non sense'

And for teachers, well she has shown that respect is to be earned and not demanded, be that teacher who deserves to be respected and I assure you, we students love great teachers and we are not selfish to keep the doors of respect in our hearts shut. If you deserve it, you'll eventually get it from us in abundance- an ocean of respect and love.

And so it is for all people in general, be someone who will always be remembered for being kind, genuine, honest and the world will respect you naturally and you will be missed till long after you leave. Give respect, get respect, rise above the mediocre mentality that penetrates the narrow lane of petty quarrels and vain arguments- peace!

Ah what else? Lots...I could go on and on , who knows I might just write a book on her lectures, but for now that's the precise summary and crux of all we discussed. 

I might further update it if more comes to my mind because all I've been doing these days, is dwelling on what I have learnt from her.

And yes make sure you grow intellectually everyday, rise above mediocrity and mundane stuff you see around- if you do that, there will be few others like you- two friends having the same mental equation- great...more than that-well: soney pe suhaaga!!!

In fact, jaate jaate bhi vo mujhe bohat kuch sikhagayei...while leaving also she subconsciously imparted some essential lessons to us- like life is unpredictable, you never know for how long are people destined to be with you, which kind of people shall meet you on your way(not the ones you want but the ones you need) and when and where;and thus make use of every opportunity to expand the economy of knowledge and do express yourself, enjoy your time with all the good people in your life because they are a blessing and never take them for granted as you never know when you will have to part ways with them. Secondly, if your falling weak makes the other person weak as well then try to control your emotions for the betterment of the other person who is already vulnerable until they reach that level of strength. And the other person should respect that strength shown by you and do justice to it by achieving that level of excellence and strength. Thirdly, everything has a purpose and nothing happens without a reason- if you are confused, just breathe and move on because in the end the big picture will make sense, completely astonishing you for the better, so have faith- remember always: koi bhi baat itni badi nahi hoti.

So all I could do for now on my part was to connect with that blend of emotions Iqbal had to go through while parting with his teacher, but the best part was in few years he went on and joined his teacher in his country for further studies- ammmm...who knows..if not for further studies, then for some other thing I might be around the same place, let's be hopeful and with that hope, here's the poem I had written for her on the day of parting; when even the sky cried with me;it's like the world crumbled on me instantly, given that the river of positivity has changed its course- a void no one can fill, a space that consumes me:

I wish I already knew

It would be an abrupt adieu

You...to your home and I?
Is home only a place I ask;
Or that feeling- that moment
Of assurance ‘you are safe,secure'
I wish I had never known
I wish I already knew

‘All that happens, happens for
The good'- ha, my consolation prize
Everybody awards me now;
I need to be consoled,
Am I such a hopeless case
So miserable and you-
You sprinkle smiles over
To make me cry more
And more and more...

The teacher always wins-
That's just the way of things!
After each precursor to hope
The screen always went BLANK
That's just the way of things!
I wish I had never known
I wish I....

They deliberately advanced languages
So that not all could be expressed
Or explained or condensed in WORDS:
PAIN, MEMORIES, GRATITUDE, LOVE-
Dwell beyond words, transcend languages
I wish I already knew
I wish I had never known

“Aagaya aaj uss sadaaqat ka mere dil ko yaqeen
Zulmat-e-shab se zeeya-e-roz o furqat kam nahi” ★

How well now I know
That ‘Lament of separation'
When Iqbal parted with his teacher-
His words, now my story:
“Today my heart is convinced of
This truth-
The light of Separation's day
Is darker than night...★
Gone is that zeal for walking
In the vast expanse of learning!
In my intellect also, you were
The inspirer of love of learning"
I wish I had never known
Oh, how I wish....

And now I cherish the illusion,
My mind contrived to delude my heart:
That we too shall meet soon, and
There's always a NEXT TIME-
A second Chance:
I wish I already knew
I wish I had never known

So Farewell is all we shall be singing
I know, Nobody stays forever,
But the way you shall be leaving
Nobody leaves in that way ever.

So I'd have devised a language then,
Other than that of TEARS to explain
That how my words failed me today,

Until we meet again...

                         —SANA SHAH

‘So I'll regret it. But lead my heart to pain.
Return, if it is just to leave me again.'
                       —Agha Shahid ali

The day we were born

Blowing off the flame of my yet another precious year, I slash asunder a piece of my ecstasy from the rest of my life, organically manifest by the cutting of this three-tiered chocolate cake, amidst the resounding claps of the people flocked around me in this large festooned hall. The guests come up to hug me, shake hands with me and invariably smother me with expensive and lavish gifts, congratulating me on my birthday as they say. Letting out a wistful sigh, I try braving up a genial smile, in the depths acknowledging my own endurance, having crossed another year of trouble, agony and pain; perhaps the most difficult year of my life would be history now.  The sickly sweet gathering of guests, busy in pompous show of their accessories, with none clad in anything less than a classy brand from head to heels, the rush of the waiters carrying the platters of exotic savouries, the flashing chromatic lights on the floor, the pulsation of the loud music, the fancy buntings adorning the vibrant ramparts, the glittery optical fibers, embellishing the giant pillars and palisades of stairways in the hall and the constant natters of the crowd, cannot be a pleasure to the heart that craves for solitude, longing to be left alone- entirely alone!                                                                                                                          Tired of floundering from one place to another, deprived of the inner peace, on my birthday, today I decide to give myself the gift of solitude or rather loneliness. Nudging my way out through the crowd, I with difficulty manage to get out of the crowded hall, into the adjacent balcony. And here I am- out of the profligate clique of people, now finally alone, with the blazing sun, which is preparing to sleep in the lap of night. The scarlet ball, painting the canvas of horizon with chromatic shades of red, is allegorical to the oblivious carnage of hearts. I breathe in the fresh air, as the placid breeze gently blows against my cheeks, wafting some message, in a muffled tone that perhaps will never reach my ears. I observe the stretch of swaying grass in the verdant field before my eyes, as if acclaiming my presence after such a long time, weaving the ambience of inexplicable delight blend with remorseful despondency, drifting my senses in the state of awe.
The natural aura, lingering in the air around me, has the similar semblance of that bright evening when my eyes first caught your sight, and now as the curve of my lips widen on recalling those memories, symbolic of a smile, is not because I am happy standing out here alone, but because this loneliness has still reserved for me the right to reminisce and inspirit our treasured memories, that lure me into that dear old game, where I still lose in spite of a win, hence today, is such a day that marks your absence for my realization.
Just a year ago, on this day you were standing by my side, nostalgically counting on our promises, errors, reconciliations and happy moments, although since we first met, every time it was I, who had to remind you of my birthday, as your presence was my best gift for this day. It is really funny to see how fate can change the entire pace of life, not only perceptions but dimensions of the life as well; and therefore, I soon found myself wretched in just a night. It was like a steaming volcano that finally erupted to destroy the beautiful city in its fold, without any warnings and the next day-it was all desolation!

Abaadi bhi dekhi hai, veerani bhi dekhi hai                                                                  Jo ujdhey aur phir na bassey dil voh nirali basti hai

I regret not our estrangement now, but my insensibility to foist you in the realm of dilemma, from where even I could never return. I now have discerned that signing some stamped documents in emerald ink can finish the bonds but never the feelings that garner those bonds. So yearning for the impossible, all that I have been doing since a year is befooling my heart and ironically my heart has grown sensible enough to understand that it is being fooled by me, but for how long! Lolling my body over the banisters edging the balcony, I contemplate that how a rose, so alluring to the heart that loves it so much, can hurtfully prick the fingers on being plucked out in oblivion. Why do the intangible feelings, that unite the minds after being blindly bonded, later on allow the prudent minds to question over and again, after pushing the sublime souls in an abyss? And as only the rational minds are left to recuperate the wounded hearts, they work in to diminish the abstract feelings to nothingness.
How I recall, each year you always forgot my birthday but I remembered your birthday, yet you kept on proving the sublimity of our bonding by celebrating everyday with me like a birthday; like our special days. Honestly, I never expected you to remember my birthdays, for I was not so touchy about it, nor did you ever ask me to celebrate your birthday, (Though, I would always pop up at your place with a cake) because somewhere deep down, we both knew, that our love rose above the superficiality of the “days” and the “formalities” that followed, rather it rested on the foundation of a committed feeling of concern towards each other. But when a dream made of glass is broken, whom do we blame- fate, circumstances, void in compliancy, etc, etc; hence, every celebration down the lane of memories is ransacked to a street of desolation, spared only with the cracked windows of pain, the empty cupboards of grief, and the smashed doors of separation.
Enviably the sun never sets alone; for the night will console it and comfort it in its lap- but the expanse of darkness, after the sunset, corroborates the proof of the emptiness that the sky will be impelled to gasp. Although the clouds do not enfold the sky this evening, thus apparently the sky must be smiling as it silently witness the sun leaving its country, but this never means that the sky is not lamenting the separation- The sky must have been tired of crying every evening, just like me. The sky has realized that excessive tears bring only floods and devastations that harm those around us; hence we put up a brave and warm smile that at least will not harm anyone, even if it annihilates us from within. This smile, not only epitomizes the level attained after such an arduous struggle, with which I have reconciled as any other normal occurrence, like the sunset, but also anything below this level will be sheer insult to the degree of our grief, loss and parting.

Ujaaley apni yaado’n ke humarey paas rehne do                                                         Na jaane kis galli mai zindagi ki shaam ho jaaye…..

After you parted your ways with me, many people of great calibre extended hands to hold you firmly, I felt like some queer creature, which on being exiled, had to harmonize with the veneer of the other world. And in this exile, a crowd of familiar faces appear strange to me; so I can’t be consoled now and I am at peace to know, that this strangeness with the outside world will drive me nearer to my inner self. For some time, now I have been looking for the rainbow you gifted me with- the miracle of that rainbow; in one instant cry, bawl, weep, and shout, the next instant smile, smirk, and sigh! The sands of our memories, is gradually shifting loose and may be the tide of time will wash it away soon and I will watch helplessly, as it will be done.

Mat pooch kaun hai; kyu laachaar baithey hain                                                  Mussaafir hai, safar karney ki tamanna haar baithey hain

I wish the best to the lonely night sky, with the stars mocking at. And regrettably, I will have to break my soliloquy, as I see the guests leaving now.                          

After the commotion dies down, my dad calls me to see the gifts I got, as they are unwrapped by the butler. I sit on the chaise lounge, across my parents who are dressed in the daintiest manner. With each gift unwrapped, they sigh in wonder while I maintain a constant smile, hardly looking at the gifts. My gaze shifts to the side table, which supports a pretty net basket, with large sized greeting cards shoved inside it. I pull out one card, and on opening it, a loud birthday tune fills in the room, as everyone is taken aback. I keep it aside in disgust. I pass my time shuffling the greeting cards, reading out the sophisticated surnames of the guests, written on the envelopes. One envelope did not have any name of its giver. Tearing the envelope out of curiosity, I lug out the card. I open the card to read the message inside it. Surprising, rather shocking my senses, I read the name of the person written inside, on the corner at the bottom of title line- a simple card that read just this: WISHING YOU A HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Regards……her name.
Lo abhi jalney ko kuch baaki tha….                                                                               Aur hum samjhey; vo aaye’n hain maatamgiri ke liye
Yes- it was her name! I almost fumbled, feeling all choked up and messed up again; I remembered, that I did not wish her this year on her birthday and she instead had wished me on my birthday, contravening the usual trend! I swallowed! I was confounded by all that I had just read, seen and felt. I felt numb and to be honest, my current position failed any reaction. Standing up, holding the card firmly, I start advancing towards my room upstairs, in a half-absorbed bent of mind, asking my parents to excuse me. I enter my room and dive on my bed, reading the card again, rather that one line again… Tears start to stream down my face and I want to shout, but that rainbow! The next moment I feel inexplicably calm and peaceful. Clasping the card (My best and worst gift that I ever received) close to my chest, feeling morose for the unthinkable that just had happened, I close my eyes on hearing the clock chime at the stroke of midnight, which marked the end of the day we were born!                                                                                            

                                                                        --BY SANA SHAH