GURU DAKSHINA (Sreedevi Krishnan)
Published on 05 September, 2020
“I woke up one morning and found myself famous”, said Lord Byron. Exactly like him, Retired Dr. Bhagyalakshmi Menon got up one morning, saw her huge picture with His Excellency, the new Governor of Kerala, trying to touch her feet with extreme reverence, flashed across all the front pages of English and Malayalam dailies with the screaming titles, “Guru Dakshina”, “ Modern Ekalavya” etc. .” His Excellency paying his respects to his old teacher on Teacher’s day etc. etc.
TV channels competed with each other in showing the jostling crowd, the media, the ‘polite’ Kerala Police observing ‘Ladies First’ principle, and giving a couple of attractive, popular TV Anchors, access to the Governor, while His Excellency’s booming voice expressing his extreme joy in discovering his favorite English teacher whose lectures made a lasting impression on him, the importance of respecting ‘Guru ‘who is equal to God etc. etc.
Bhagyam in an off white starched cotton sari, the end of which wrapped around her shoulder like a shawl, answered the volley of questions of reporters initially with nods, smiles and monosyllables. Later, though robot-like, Bhagyam responded to the carefully steered questions of smart lady reporters - “Yes, yes he was a role model for students , excelled in academics , extra-curricular activities & sports,” in italics she said , while her tired, confused brain, busy trying hard to remember the Governor as her student .The tall, bald ,bespectacled gentleman with a slight paunch cleverly concealed by an elegant ,smart tunic ,certainly did not strike her memory chord.’ “Guruvayurappa ! Could this be a case of mistaken identity?”
After the Governor’s visit, her phone incessantly rang pouring out congratulations from relatives, neighbors & even acquaintances. The Doctor couple next door to who she was just another old spinster conducting coaching classes till then, became highly respectable. The young advocate next door visited her with his wife & two kids to express not only his but the entire neighborhood’s gratitude for the new repaired road. How can they be oblivious of the fact that it is the Governor’s visit to her house, to that locality, resulted in the new widened, leveled cemented road, in the place of the tea colored puddles during monsoon, causing great inconvenience to School-going children? New brightly -lit streets were a boon to women who were the targets for chain-snatchers & eves teasers.
The visit of the Governor no doubt elevated Bhagyam to the status of a celebrity. Her students looked at her with renewed awe & admiration, Vegetable vendors, grocery shop owner , Bank staff , even the tailor in the corner shop greeted her with great respect, some with an elaborate ‘Namaste’, some with a broad, understanding grin and some others with a look which said “Sorry, very sorry for underestimating you Ma’am”
Even her part time maid, who came at odd hours after finishing her work in the busy young, working memsaabs’ houses, started sticking to an early slot. What’s more, she worked quietly without her usual, very noisy, clatter & clash of washing cooking utensils, along with the grumbling about her drunken husband which disturbed Bhagyam considerably. “How I wish Amma were alive!! She would’ve enjoyed this publicity, this attention .why even I cannot help a foolish thrill now,” thought Bhagyam, sipping her steaming hot black coffee with a Zzzzzll sound…
Wiping the coffee dribbling down her chin with the back of her palm, Bhagyam remembered how a single phone call, just a fortnight ago brought her this sudden, unexpected fame.It was a Friday morning, one of the weekly three days of her coaching class for Postgraduate students in English Literature.
Bhagyam was eloquently lecturing on Milton’s ‘Paradise lost’ & as usual, all her ten students were listening in rapt attention, Satan’s tempting Eve with the forbidden fruit. Just then, the piercing shrill of the telephone on the corner, interrupted the spell-bound students.
Enraged, she picked up the phone & said in a harsh, much louder -than -the intended mumble’ Yes, yes I am Dr. Bhagyam Menon, Retired English professor.”Suddenly, her voice rose to an anxious high pitch “what, from Raj Bhavan, Why? Why the Governor wants to visit me?”
Then the polite voice on the other end informed her that the new Governor His Excellency HM Srivastava, her old student in the University College ,would like to pay his respects to her on September 5th, Teachers Day....
That was two weeks ago .But, Bhagyam’s life did not return to normalcy even after that “Governor’s visit home fortnight. She spent sleepless nights trying to figure out the identity of her most distinguished student HM Srivastava, the Constitutional Head of the state.
In the long span of her four decades’ teaching career, she had taught several students but lost track of all of them ,except the multi-millionaire ,spiritual Guru ,Swamy Akhilananda with thousands of disciples all over the world and Ananya, a famous Malayali actress whose pictures appear in magazines & dailies with unfailing regularity. No teacher can possibly remember all her students. Still, isn’t it weird that neither the name HM Srivastava nor his face strike her memory chord ,however hard she tried ?
Skipping the 4’o clock news, a determined Bhagyam switched on the recorded Asianet News channel & watched the Governor’s swearing in ceremony, pausing & watching closely the Governor’s face looming large on the screen over & over again. She heard the booming, incredibly youthful voice of the Governor,” I, Hari Mohan Srivastava...“Ente Guruvayurappa!!” Bhagyam gasped with shocked disbelief. “This completely bald’ bespectacled ,aging man with a slight paunch , is that tall, strikingly handsome Harry with a thick mop of hair & charming mannerism of a slight jerk of head, to control the unruly strand of hair falling on his fore head, the heart throb of all the girls of his batch? Unbelievable!!”
Stifling a yawn, Bhagyam stretched her legs while her mind raced back to forty long years ...Alas! The flood gate of memories was pushed open.........
Bhagyam was born of an inter-caste marriage of Ramachandran Menon, supposed to be an upper caste Hindu ,with his student, Kalyani ,a very charming, lower caste girl ,breaking the unwritten but strong “ Marriage lows” of a caste- ridden society which dictates who should marry whom.
But the young couple lived a happy, quiet, nondescript married life, till Prof. Menon was killed in a tragic road accident.....Bhagyam was barely thirteen then and Kalyani’s decade-long lone battle against a hostile world, ended only when Bhagyam got a lecturer’s job in the University College ,after her Post Graduation in English Literature with first rank. Her brilliant success breaking the University record, was not at all a surprise as Bhagyam Menon had a brilliant academic record throughout her School & College.
Kalyani, her Amma used to say, sighing deeply , “ Bhagyam ,you’re just like your father ,his passion for reading , dark complexion , lanky looks, gait, why ,even his Astigmatism which necessitated your wearing thick glasses”. Eyes gleaming with pride, she would continue, “Your father was from the CMS College, Kottayam, where his Professors were all Brits, that’s why he had a perfect accent. He was so fond of his mother ‘ BhagyaLakshmi’, that’s why he named you Bhagyam, an old fashioned name. At times, I feel he was a great humorist to name you Bhagyam when Dame Luck does not even glance at our side” hinting at her single status, her affectionate Amma used to give a sad smile, controlling her ‘about to cry mouth,’ which resulted in quivering lips, slightly pink nose tip which enhanced her ivory complexion -the remains of her past good looks.
Frankly, Bhagyam was not at all bothered about her single status. She was realistic enough to accept the fact that a dark, thin girl with plain looks & with no money to compensate her looks simply cannot expect an obligatory husband on her horizon. So, she enjoyed her job & found immense pleasure in transporting her students effortlessly to a new world, the fascinating world of literature. Students simply adored her. And Bhagyam’s life revolved around her affectionate mother, Research, collection of books, occasional short story writing & of course tending small garden of multi- colored hibiscus shrubs & potted plants.
The only time she wept bitterly about her single status was, when her Amma died without fulfilling her only dream of ‘settling down her daughter, Despite Kalyani’s fervent prayers daily, visits to Devi temple, skipping meals on every Monday & many pilgrimages, she could not appease the innumerable Deities and she passed away without completing her mother’s duty of getting her married & “making sure of her safety in this cruel world” as she had often lamented ........
Wiping the tears rolling down her cheeks at the thought of her Amma’s peaceful death, Bhagyam deliberately brought her mind back to her first appointment in the University College where she had taught Hari Mohan. Bhagyam remembered her exhilarating feeling when Dr. Zachariah with his insistence on perfection & contempt for mediocrity praised her in the Staff meeting for incredible ability to control the large class of unruly commerce students. When she reported this to her Amma chuckled, “All because of your father, how he had insisted on your proper British accent without a trace of Malayali accent”.
Amma’s admiration for her scholarly father reminded her of their mutual admiration & father’s oft- repeated quote of Emily Bronte, “Molae, Bhagyam, whatever our souls are made of, his & mine are the same”.
Controlling her straying thoughts, Bhagyam deliberately brought her mind to the day when the first crack in the idyll of her professional life appeared, in the form of a new North Indian Student, Hari Mohan from an affluent, politically influential family.
He joined the College in the middle of the academic year and though Bhagyam offered to help him out with the missing lessons, he refused her offer, “Thanks, Prof. Menon, I think I can manage”, the arrogance in his booming voice was very obvious.
Soon, seated at the back of the class, Hari Mohan started interrupting her class asking frivolous doubts , distracting the attention of the class by fiddling with the switch board putting on & off fans ,talking animatedly with his gang, in short, trying everything possible to be the center of attraction. He was only too sure of his looks, wealth and therefore his power over the classmates especially the attractive girls who seemed to enjoy his interruptions.
Then, one day when Bhagyam came 5 minutes late to her class, Hari was already lecturing, clutching an off-white dupatta wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl, his right palm slicing the air to emphasize a point & surveying the class through glasses and screaming ‘Silence’ at regular intervals. The class broke into a thunderous clap at the perfect mimicry of Prof. Menon’s lecture.
As though to revive her paralyzed vocal chords, a shocked Bhagyam cleared her throat, pushed back her glasses to her nose bridge and addressed the class in an unbelievably calm but stern voice, “ Congrats ,Hari Mohan, excellent mimicry ,you’re really talented . I do believe in encouraging such talents ..... But, but, I suggest in the interest of a few students who need my help, to carry on your activities outside my class”, she paused to bring some order to the chaos & continued, “So here after you will not enter my classes, those who would like to be entertained by him can also get out of my class, no ill feelings, just an adjustment, fair deal, right, Hari Mohan ? “
Hari Mohan got up from his seat with a deliberate creaking of the chair, & walked out of the class triumphantly waving with his books, like a Captain of the cricket team holding his trophy & waving his hands at the spectators.
Though Bhagyam managed to get rid of his presence, she felt uncomfortable to go to her Commerce Class.
‘Did she not spot a veneer of disapproval in the eyes of the pretty girl students, obviously fans of the rich, spoilt brat?’
And the attention getter Hari made sure to make his presence felt even in his absence by leaving the hall, only after her entering the class and also rushing in, as soon as the bell rang to end the class.
At the end of that disturbing week, Bhagyam was summoned by the Principal, Dr. Zachariah, an imposing personality with rather intimidating looks. “Please sit down Prof. Menon, as I had mentioned in the staff meeting, you are, yes, you really are, an asset to our College. Our male dominated staff in the Arts & commerce groups is a proof of their general indiscipline. But you could win their admiration in such a short time’ Dr. Zachariah paused showing an attempt to bring a smile to his usual unsmiling face & said “Now tell me , why Hari Mohan was sent out of your English classes.”
Almost ignoring the scrutinizing eyes of the principal, Bhagyam narrated the unpleasant episode briefly. When she finished, Zachariah leaned back on his swivel chair & chuckled .. “Well, Prof . Menon, you are young , the youngest in the Department ,and let me tell you , you have to be very, very tactful in dealing with such grown up students . You could have brought this matter to me immediately, I would have made him apologize to you there & then.”
Then dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, Dr. Zachariah continued, “You know Professor, this Hari Mohan is the grandson of the famous Mining Baron ex-Chief minister & the son of a prominent Member of Parliament now. According to our College rules, a Professor’s Complaint against a student, disqualifies him from contesting for our College Student Union election. Hari Mohan is a Presidential candidate & so, his father wants me to interfere and settle the issue. Of Course I asked this boy to give a written apology to you tomorrow. Okay?”
Dr. Zachariah looked at his watch, got up from his chair indicating the end of the meeting with a gentle wave of his hand & rare smile.
The next day, a remorseless Hari handed over an expensive , Hall mark card with ‘Sorry’ ‘Sorry’ printed all over attractively in multi colors, mumbled ‘Sorry, Prof “ & got inside her class amidst the welcome clap of the majority of students ....
After winning the election, busy with his extracurricular activities, Hari hardly attended any of the classes, much to Bhagyam’s relief ...But Bhagyam could never forget the incident, Dr. Zachariah’s interference & Hari’s mockery of apology, her first encounter with injustice. Over the years, repetition of such incidents made her indifferent to the injustice. But, beneath that careful cloak of scholarly indifference and aloofness, Bhagyam housed a burning anger against the superciliousness of the rich & powerful society.
So, that handsome ladies-man with world under his feet, was metamorphosed into this aging man with bald head, wrinkled face & a beer- drinking belly, the Honorable Governor of Kerala.
Sighing with relief Bhagyam almost muttered aloud, ‘Ente Guruvayurappa, how time played such havoc on that handsome boy, completely unrecognizable except for his baritone voice. To recognize a person by his voice, how strange!!! Does the Governor remember the incident? Does he feel a sense of remorse with the passage of times? Perhaps yes, didn’t I feel his tight grip on my hand while handing over the gift- wrapped sari? Didn’t I feel a gentle pressure on my feet, when he touched it? After all, he need not touch my feet, he can just pretend before the cameras, if it is only a publicity gimmick’
Bhagyam with the maturity of living in this planet for more than seven decades, wanted to believe that the unpleasant Hari episode was only the folly of youth, that wonderful, romantic age when life is an unbroken chain of joy, fun filled days and enjoyment at any cost.
Bhagyam looked around and shrieked, suddenly spotting her broken pot with her favorite cactus & an uprooted, crushed hibiscus shrub.
Hitching her Sari high & tucking it into her waist for tending to the damaged shrub, she thought “Huh! Governor’s visit means not only leveled, brightly lit, clean streets but also broken pots and uprooted shrubs by the heavy boots of his security”, she smiled, the happy, contented smile of a retired teacher.
TV channels competed with each other in showing the jostling crowd, the media, the ‘polite’ Kerala Police observing ‘Ladies First’ principle, and giving a couple of attractive, popular TV Anchors, access to the Governor, while His Excellency’s booming voice expressing his extreme joy in discovering his favorite English teacher whose lectures made a lasting impression on him, the importance of respecting ‘Guru ‘who is equal to God etc. etc.
Bhagyam in an off white starched cotton sari, the end of which wrapped around her shoulder like a shawl, answered the volley of questions of reporters initially with nods, smiles and monosyllables. Later, though robot-like, Bhagyam responded to the carefully steered questions of smart lady reporters - “Yes, yes he was a role model for students , excelled in academics , extra-curricular activities & sports,” in italics she said , while her tired, confused brain, busy trying hard to remember the Governor as her student .The tall, bald ,bespectacled gentleman with a slight paunch cleverly concealed by an elegant ,smart tunic ,certainly did not strike her memory chord.’ “Guruvayurappa ! Could this be a case of mistaken identity?”
After the Governor’s visit, her phone incessantly rang pouring out congratulations from relatives, neighbors & even acquaintances. The Doctor couple next door to who she was just another old spinster conducting coaching classes till then, became highly respectable. The young advocate next door visited her with his wife & two kids to express not only his but the entire neighborhood’s gratitude for the new repaired road. How can they be oblivious of the fact that it is the Governor’s visit to her house, to that locality, resulted in the new widened, leveled cemented road, in the place of the tea colored puddles during monsoon, causing great inconvenience to School-going children? New brightly -lit streets were a boon to women who were the targets for chain-snatchers & eves teasers.
The visit of the Governor no doubt elevated Bhagyam to the status of a celebrity. Her students looked at her with renewed awe & admiration, Vegetable vendors, grocery shop owner , Bank staff , even the tailor in the corner shop greeted her with great respect, some with an elaborate ‘Namaste’, some with a broad, understanding grin and some others with a look which said “Sorry, very sorry for underestimating you Ma’am”
Even her part time maid, who came at odd hours after finishing her work in the busy young, working memsaabs’ houses, started sticking to an early slot. What’s more, she worked quietly without her usual, very noisy, clatter & clash of washing cooking utensils, along with the grumbling about her drunken husband which disturbed Bhagyam considerably. “How I wish Amma were alive!! She would’ve enjoyed this publicity, this attention .why even I cannot help a foolish thrill now,” thought Bhagyam, sipping her steaming hot black coffee with a Zzzzzll sound…
Wiping the coffee dribbling down her chin with the back of her palm, Bhagyam remembered how a single phone call, just a fortnight ago brought her this sudden, unexpected fame.It was a Friday morning, one of the weekly three days of her coaching class for Postgraduate students in English Literature.
Bhagyam was eloquently lecturing on Milton’s ‘Paradise lost’ & as usual, all her ten students were listening in rapt attention, Satan’s tempting Eve with the forbidden fruit. Just then, the piercing shrill of the telephone on the corner, interrupted the spell-bound students.
Enraged, she picked up the phone & said in a harsh, much louder -than -the intended mumble’ Yes, yes I am Dr. Bhagyam Menon, Retired English professor.”Suddenly, her voice rose to an anxious high pitch “what, from Raj Bhavan, Why? Why the Governor wants to visit me?”
Then the polite voice on the other end informed her that the new Governor His Excellency HM Srivastava, her old student in the University College ,would like to pay his respects to her on September 5th, Teachers Day....
That was two weeks ago .But, Bhagyam’s life did not return to normalcy even after that “Governor’s visit home fortnight. She spent sleepless nights trying to figure out the identity of her most distinguished student HM Srivastava, the Constitutional Head of the state.
In the long span of her four decades’ teaching career, she had taught several students but lost track of all of them ,except the multi-millionaire ,spiritual Guru ,Swamy Akhilananda with thousands of disciples all over the world and Ananya, a famous Malayali actress whose pictures appear in magazines & dailies with unfailing regularity. No teacher can possibly remember all her students. Still, isn’t it weird that neither the name HM Srivastava nor his face strike her memory chord ,however hard she tried ?
Skipping the 4’o clock news, a determined Bhagyam switched on the recorded Asianet News channel & watched the Governor’s swearing in ceremony, pausing & watching closely the Governor’s face looming large on the screen over & over again. She heard the booming, incredibly youthful voice of the Governor,” I, Hari Mohan Srivastava...“Ente Guruvayurappa!!” Bhagyam gasped with shocked disbelief. “This completely bald’ bespectacled ,aging man with a slight paunch , is that tall, strikingly handsome Harry with a thick mop of hair & charming mannerism of a slight jerk of head, to control the unruly strand of hair falling on his fore head, the heart throb of all the girls of his batch? Unbelievable!!”
Stifling a yawn, Bhagyam stretched her legs while her mind raced back to forty long years ...Alas! The flood gate of memories was pushed open.........
Bhagyam was born of an inter-caste marriage of Ramachandran Menon, supposed to be an upper caste Hindu ,with his student, Kalyani ,a very charming, lower caste girl ,breaking the unwritten but strong “ Marriage lows” of a caste- ridden society which dictates who should marry whom.
But the young couple lived a happy, quiet, nondescript married life, till Prof. Menon was killed in a tragic road accident.....Bhagyam was barely thirteen then and Kalyani’s decade-long lone battle against a hostile world, ended only when Bhagyam got a lecturer’s job in the University College ,after her Post Graduation in English Literature with first rank. Her brilliant success breaking the University record, was not at all a surprise as Bhagyam Menon had a brilliant academic record throughout her School & College.
Kalyani, her Amma used to say, sighing deeply , “ Bhagyam ,you’re just like your father ,his passion for reading , dark complexion , lanky looks, gait, why ,even his Astigmatism which necessitated your wearing thick glasses”. Eyes gleaming with pride, she would continue, “Your father was from the CMS College, Kottayam, where his Professors were all Brits, that’s why he had a perfect accent. He was so fond of his mother ‘ BhagyaLakshmi’, that’s why he named you Bhagyam, an old fashioned name. At times, I feel he was a great humorist to name you Bhagyam when Dame Luck does not even glance at our side” hinting at her single status, her affectionate Amma used to give a sad smile, controlling her ‘about to cry mouth,’ which resulted in quivering lips, slightly pink nose tip which enhanced her ivory complexion -the remains of her past good looks.
Frankly, Bhagyam was not at all bothered about her single status. She was realistic enough to accept the fact that a dark, thin girl with plain looks & with no money to compensate her looks simply cannot expect an obligatory husband on her horizon. So, she enjoyed her job & found immense pleasure in transporting her students effortlessly to a new world, the fascinating world of literature. Students simply adored her. And Bhagyam’s life revolved around her affectionate mother, Research, collection of books, occasional short story writing & of course tending small garden of multi- colored hibiscus shrubs & potted plants.
The only time she wept bitterly about her single status was, when her Amma died without fulfilling her only dream of ‘settling down her daughter, Despite Kalyani’s fervent prayers daily, visits to Devi temple, skipping meals on every Monday & many pilgrimages, she could not appease the innumerable Deities and she passed away without completing her mother’s duty of getting her married & “making sure of her safety in this cruel world” as she had often lamented ........
Wiping the tears rolling down her cheeks at the thought of her Amma’s peaceful death, Bhagyam deliberately brought her mind back to her first appointment in the University College where she had taught Hari Mohan. Bhagyam remembered her exhilarating feeling when Dr. Zachariah with his insistence on perfection & contempt for mediocrity praised her in the Staff meeting for incredible ability to control the large class of unruly commerce students. When she reported this to her Amma chuckled, “All because of your father, how he had insisted on your proper British accent without a trace of Malayali accent”.
Amma’s admiration for her scholarly father reminded her of their mutual admiration & father’s oft- repeated quote of Emily Bronte, “Molae, Bhagyam, whatever our souls are made of, his & mine are the same”.
Controlling her straying thoughts, Bhagyam deliberately brought her mind to the day when the first crack in the idyll of her professional life appeared, in the form of a new North Indian Student, Hari Mohan from an affluent, politically influential family.
He joined the College in the middle of the academic year and though Bhagyam offered to help him out with the missing lessons, he refused her offer, “Thanks, Prof. Menon, I think I can manage”, the arrogance in his booming voice was very obvious.
Soon, seated at the back of the class, Hari Mohan started interrupting her class asking frivolous doubts , distracting the attention of the class by fiddling with the switch board putting on & off fans ,talking animatedly with his gang, in short, trying everything possible to be the center of attraction. He was only too sure of his looks, wealth and therefore his power over the classmates especially the attractive girls who seemed to enjoy his interruptions.
Then, one day when Bhagyam came 5 minutes late to her class, Hari was already lecturing, clutching an off-white dupatta wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl, his right palm slicing the air to emphasize a point & surveying the class through glasses and screaming ‘Silence’ at regular intervals. The class broke into a thunderous clap at the perfect mimicry of Prof. Menon’s lecture.
As though to revive her paralyzed vocal chords, a shocked Bhagyam cleared her throat, pushed back her glasses to her nose bridge and addressed the class in an unbelievably calm but stern voice, “ Congrats ,Hari Mohan, excellent mimicry ,you’re really talented . I do believe in encouraging such talents ..... But, but, I suggest in the interest of a few students who need my help, to carry on your activities outside my class”, she paused to bring some order to the chaos & continued, “So here after you will not enter my classes, those who would like to be entertained by him can also get out of my class, no ill feelings, just an adjustment, fair deal, right, Hari Mohan ? “
Hari Mohan got up from his seat with a deliberate creaking of the chair, & walked out of the class triumphantly waving with his books, like a Captain of the cricket team holding his trophy & waving his hands at the spectators.
Though Bhagyam managed to get rid of his presence, she felt uncomfortable to go to her Commerce Class.
‘Did she not spot a veneer of disapproval in the eyes of the pretty girl students, obviously fans of the rich, spoilt brat?’
And the attention getter Hari made sure to make his presence felt even in his absence by leaving the hall, only after her entering the class and also rushing in, as soon as the bell rang to end the class.
At the end of that disturbing week, Bhagyam was summoned by the Principal, Dr. Zachariah, an imposing personality with rather intimidating looks. “Please sit down Prof. Menon, as I had mentioned in the staff meeting, you are, yes, you really are, an asset to our College. Our male dominated staff in the Arts & commerce groups is a proof of their general indiscipline. But you could win their admiration in such a short time’ Dr. Zachariah paused showing an attempt to bring a smile to his usual unsmiling face & said “Now tell me , why Hari Mohan was sent out of your English classes.”
Almost ignoring the scrutinizing eyes of the principal, Bhagyam narrated the unpleasant episode briefly. When she finished, Zachariah leaned back on his swivel chair & chuckled .. “Well, Prof . Menon, you are young , the youngest in the Department ,and let me tell you , you have to be very, very tactful in dealing with such grown up students . You could have brought this matter to me immediately, I would have made him apologize to you there & then.”
Then dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, Dr. Zachariah continued, “You know Professor, this Hari Mohan is the grandson of the famous Mining Baron ex-Chief minister & the son of a prominent Member of Parliament now. According to our College rules, a Professor’s Complaint against a student, disqualifies him from contesting for our College Student Union election. Hari Mohan is a Presidential candidate & so, his father wants me to interfere and settle the issue. Of Course I asked this boy to give a written apology to you tomorrow. Okay?”
Dr. Zachariah looked at his watch, got up from his chair indicating the end of the meeting with a gentle wave of his hand & rare smile.
The next day, a remorseless Hari handed over an expensive , Hall mark card with ‘Sorry’ ‘Sorry’ printed all over attractively in multi colors, mumbled ‘Sorry, Prof “ & got inside her class amidst the welcome clap of the majority of students ....
After winning the election, busy with his extracurricular activities, Hari hardly attended any of the classes, much to Bhagyam’s relief ...But Bhagyam could never forget the incident, Dr. Zachariah’s interference & Hari’s mockery of apology, her first encounter with injustice. Over the years, repetition of such incidents made her indifferent to the injustice. But, beneath that careful cloak of scholarly indifference and aloofness, Bhagyam housed a burning anger against the superciliousness of the rich & powerful society.
So, that handsome ladies-man with world under his feet, was metamorphosed into this aging man with bald head, wrinkled face & a beer- drinking belly, the Honorable Governor of Kerala.
Sighing with relief Bhagyam almost muttered aloud, ‘Ente Guruvayurappa, how time played such havoc on that handsome boy, completely unrecognizable except for his baritone voice. To recognize a person by his voice, how strange!!! Does the Governor remember the incident? Does he feel a sense of remorse with the passage of times? Perhaps yes, didn’t I feel his tight grip on my hand while handing over the gift- wrapped sari? Didn’t I feel a gentle pressure on my feet, when he touched it? After all, he need not touch my feet, he can just pretend before the cameras, if it is only a publicity gimmick’
Bhagyam with the maturity of living in this planet for more than seven decades, wanted to believe that the unpleasant Hari episode was only the folly of youth, that wonderful, romantic age when life is an unbroken chain of joy, fun filled days and enjoyment at any cost.
Bhagyam looked around and shrieked, suddenly spotting her broken pot with her favorite cactus & an uprooted, crushed hibiscus shrub.
Hitching her Sari high & tucking it into her waist for tending to the damaged shrub, she thought “Huh! Governor’s visit means not only leveled, brightly lit, clean streets but also broken pots and uprooted shrubs by the heavy boots of his security”, she smiled, the happy, contented smile of a retired teacher.
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Jyothylakshmy 2020-09-07 04:46:09
I read Sreedevi Madam’s “Gurudakshina” and I was wondering in which genre it belongs. Short story/Long story/Anecdote? Since Anecdotes are also stories this story mostly fit in Anecdote category. As usual she exhibited her flair for language and expressive nuances. The story in nutshell is her old student paying respect to her. The importance of his homage is that he had become the governor of the state where she lived. The irony in the story is that she had housed a burning anger in her mind against the superciliousness of the rich and powerful as they win unjustifiably. Her student belongs to rich and powerful family did not behave well in the class but at the end became Governor. A Teacher’s looking back to the past and realizing what she had perceived was right.
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അസഭ്യവും നിയമവിരുദ്ധവും അപകീര്ത്തികരവുമായ പരാമര്ശങ്ങള് പാടില്ല. വ്യക്തിപരമായ അധിക്ഷേപങ്ങളും
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