An ode to a teacher

Right in the middle

This is my tribute to a teacher, Mrs Sundari Balu, who was a cut above the rest with extreme empathy and compassion; she was impartial and patient to a fault. She was our lecturer at Jyoti Nivas College in Bengaluru.

One of our English lecturers, not Sundari, had tasked us with writing a poem, and the topic was “Revolution.” We were students of literature, and several of the students thought that they could glean information and inspiration from Dickens’s novel, A Tale of Two Cities. So, I wove a tale of fantasy against the backdrop of the French Revolution. I even introduced some French words for effect. After two drafts, I felt enthused that I had done my best.

The poems were corrected and returned with a grade. Much to my chagrin, my poem was returned with the comment, “Feelings are not very authentic.” When a finger is pointed at me personally, it hurts me to the core. I asked the lecturer to explain her comment, for which she said, “We cannot claim to be experts on the emotions elicited by an event in an alien land.” This only served to add insult to my injury! First, that my feelings were not authentic, and second, that I had incompetent knowledge of a foreign country!

As 19-year-old, I was at a critical juncture in my life: I was moody and dreamy, and I couldn’t be expected to take reasonable advice objectively. In short, I took the criticism badly. When Sundari ma’am noticed my downcast countenance and my swollen eyes, she immediately inquired if anything was amiss. The full story tumbled out.

“Heera, you have needlessly taken this to heart when your English lecturer had no intention to hurt you at all. All she did was point out that, we are not aware of the shades and subtleties that operate in other countries. You have based all your knowledge of the French Revolution on Charles Dickens’ novel, which you don’t know authentically. Always remember, when you write poetry in the future, to write on topics that you are an authority on.”

“But, Sundari ma’am, I wrote forcefully and eloquently.”

Then Sundari ma’am looked at me with those gentle brown eyes and said, “Why not write a poem on the Indian Revolution? You have a better chance of hitting the bull’s eye. Let your ideas flow freely.”

What a valuable lesson on poetry writing I learned that day! Now I write poetry only on topics where I can cross-check the facts and figures and on topics I am familiar with; this makes my writing honest and sincere.

I also learned another important lesson for life: when there’s a misunderstanding between two people, it helps not to lean on one’s own understanding but to honestly communicate with the other person. How many such burnt feelings can be avoided. Amen.