It was not any ordinary day, as I think of it now, nor an ordinary night. Potharor Kobi (the "Poet of the Field" as he is known in the Assamese literature) Ram Gogoi was chatting to a much younger me under a starry sky on a quiet summer night. We were sitting in our courtyard after dinner to enjoy a usual power-cut summer night. That was not the first time he visited my house. But that visit was more special to him than to me or my parents. While chatting with me and asking for my studies, he brought me closer to whisper, "You know I'm very happy today. I met my teacher after ages. My life is blessed now", he grinned wider squinting at my maternal grandfather sitting next to him engrossed in his own thoughts. I could see the twinkle in the poet's eyes when he grinned. My grandfather was so lost in his thoughts, I doubt he ever overheard the poet's words. But grandfather called me and said, "You are a blessed child to see learned souls frequenting your home. Be like them one day." I bowed in respect. Although I was not old enough to understand the words, I could feel the warmth and happiness my grandfather, the poet and my parents shared in that silent night. That feeling is still so fresh in my heart even after decades.
Blessed I was to accompany my father wherever he would need to go for work or to meet my more-than-distant-yet-close relatives - something today's generation will hardly try to put an effort into. Sometimes, they were not even relatives, as I would come to know much later, but only neighbors that my parents grew up with. But as my grandfather said, I was a blessed one then and so am I now to have such neighbors I grew up with, just like my parents. On one such visit to my father's relatives, I accompanied my father. We boarded a bus for a 4-hours journey. After half way through, the bus stopped at its designated stand for a while for its passengers to freshen up. Suddenly, three well-suited young men boarded the bus. They didn't seem like they are going somewhere with us. Because I could remember seeing them recognizing someone in the bus and immediately getting down from their car. They lined up in silence, walked the aisle till the end and came straight towards father and me. Everyone in the bus became curious at the sight including me. One after another, they knelt before my father to touch his feet. Father smiled and patted their shoulders humbly. One of them patted on my head and told me almost in a whisper, "I am blessed to have a teacher like your father. You are a blessed child too." That kept me recalling the quiet summer night and the whispers of the poet long after the suited young men had left the bus. I can still feel that warmth of smile my father had on his face when he met his former students.
A few weeks ago, I had completed writing a small piece about my father for his upcoming birthday. Not that I had never written words for him, this was the first time I actually wrote it and showed to him. I was a bit nervous to email it to him. But inside I was almost restless to know his reaction. After a few moments of receiving it, he ended up video-calling me (he is learning it almost to the point of perfecting it now!) and said, "You have made me very happy." He was smiling humbly. I could see twinkles in his eyes, which reminded me of the quiet summer night and the poet yet again.
Today marked the last day of class for this semester. Even though a Friday, I could hardly feel the weekend vibes this semester due to my hectic schedule every Friday. But I really enjoy being with my students. At the end of the day, I was happy that the semester is over now but sad at the same time as I am not going to teach these beautiful souls again. I have this mixed feeling doing the rounds after every semester. A humble face with an angelic smile came to me at the end of the class. He apologized humbly for his not-so-well presentation today. For me, putting an honest effort matters more than doing something for its mere sake. Before I called it a day, I got his message, "You have a golden soul. I'm blessed now." And ever since I am receiving such wonderful words from my other students. My exhaustion evaporated in nowhere. I smiled silently at the words. I can clearly visualize the quiet summer night and the poet. Yet again. It was not any ordinary day, nor an ordinary night. It still is not so.
Blessed I was to accompany my father wherever he would need to go for work or to meet my more-than-distant-yet-close relatives - something today's generation will hardly try to put an effort into. Sometimes, they were not even relatives, as I would come to know much later, but only neighbors that my parents grew up with. But as my grandfather said, I was a blessed one then and so am I now to have such neighbors I grew up with, just like my parents. On one such visit to my father's relatives, I accompanied my father. We boarded a bus for a 4-hours journey. After half way through, the bus stopped at its designated stand for a while for its passengers to freshen up. Suddenly, three well-suited young men boarded the bus. They didn't seem like they are going somewhere with us. Because I could remember seeing them recognizing someone in the bus and immediately getting down from their car. They lined up in silence, walked the aisle till the end and came straight towards father and me. Everyone in the bus became curious at the sight including me. One after another, they knelt before my father to touch his feet. Father smiled and patted their shoulders humbly. One of them patted on my head and told me almost in a whisper, "I am blessed to have a teacher like your father. You are a blessed child too." That kept me recalling the quiet summer night and the whispers of the poet long after the suited young men had left the bus. I can still feel that warmth of smile my father had on his face when he met his former students.
A few weeks ago, I had completed writing a small piece about my father for his upcoming birthday. Not that I had never written words for him, this was the first time I actually wrote it and showed to him. I was a bit nervous to email it to him. But inside I was almost restless to know his reaction. After a few moments of receiving it, he ended up video-calling me (he is learning it almost to the point of perfecting it now!) and said, "You have made me very happy." He was smiling humbly. I could see twinkles in his eyes, which reminded me of the quiet summer night and the poet yet again.
Today marked the last day of class for this semester. Even though a Friday, I could hardly feel the weekend vibes this semester due to my hectic schedule every Friday. But I really enjoy being with my students. At the end of the day, I was happy that the semester is over now but sad at the same time as I am not going to teach these beautiful souls again. I have this mixed feeling doing the rounds after every semester. A humble face with an angelic smile came to me at the end of the class. He apologized humbly for his not-so-well presentation today. For me, putting an honest effort matters more than doing something for its mere sake. Before I called it a day, I got his message, "You have a golden soul. I'm blessed now." And ever since I am receiving such wonderful words from my other students. My exhaustion evaporated in nowhere. I smiled silently at the words. I can clearly visualize the quiet summer night and the poet. Yet again. It was not any ordinary day, nor an ordinary night. It still is not so.
Comments