Share! Respect! c'mon can that be in PTM?

It was 10th of September and I jotted down things I had to ask the class teacher. After all Parents Teachers Meeting now hailed as most important stuff in the parents' and child's life. When I reached the school the surrounding could be mistaken for a Jam session. Parents and children turned out in their best outfit. I was no different either!

When I reached my daughters classroom I could see the anxious faces of the guardians. Some unhappy with their wards' first term marks, a few calculating the numbers from answer sheets again and others reprimanding their children for low scores. There was another category too. Vainglorious parents bragging about their precious wards to others. A lady showed off her Louis Vuitton handbag at almost every instant and the reason for her outlandish behaviour majorly was because her son scored the second highest in the Class 2 A First Term. I made my way through this myriad crowd.

When I reached the table of the Class teacher she quietly asked me to take a seat and placed my daughters answer sheets in front of me. I grabbed them and like other parents scanned through the sheets with enthusiasm. The adrenalin rush was like last ball decider of an Indo-Pak cricket match. I could sense a parent craning her neck just to look at the papers in my hand. And by the look on her face I would know if her child was better or mediocre than mine. Comparisons and Competition right from budding!

'Can I ask you  few questions please?' A Sixty something lady 's voice made me look up. She was suave and composed. Her smile was infectious as I too responded with her gesture though her target was the class teacher, not me. Yet she acknowledged it. The teacher reluctantly got ready for barrage of questions as it came already from parents demanding reasons for their child's marks which did not satisfy their expectations. 'I am Anand's grandma. His mother is bedridden for past six months and father is out of station, so..,' the lady couldn't complete her sentence as another parent asked the teacher why her daughter's pencil box got missing two days ago. Well the teacher tried to maintain her sanity and focused on the aged lady. 'Yes', please continue Mrs...? 'I am Mrs. Jairam,' came the reply.

Anand stood shyly but always smiling.

' I am not concerned about his marks but tell me is he well behaved in class? Does he share his things? Is he friendly? Does he respect the teachers?  Is he polite?  Does he accept his mistakes calmly? Is he willing to learn? I could see a few like me were stunned. Her questions were enough to draw attention. The teacher looked at others and finally her eyes rested on the lady. 'Thank you Mrs Jairam for asking me these questions. Anand is the  most well behaved, gentle and best mannered child. And now I know why!'  The old lady was beaming with glory. 'This comforts me a lot. I just wanted to ensure that my grandchild has imbibed all moral values. A good human being is rare and I want him to be that.' She thanked the teacher and left with Anand. I glanced at the table where Anand's answer sheets and report card neatly placed. He topped the exam.

Others in the hall appeared so trivial to me.All of us looked such an incongruous contrast to Anand's grandma. I had many questions for the teacher. But left without asking any. I had enough questions intriguing me on my way back.

It was kind of weird!

                                     

I was trying to rush through the Kolkata traffic only to find one red light after another angrily staring at me. It was the Alipore crossing and I got caught into traffic snarl. Tensed..I glanced at the watch which showed 5:15 pm. Only 45 mins left to reach the hospital. Where my mother would be waiting for me. She was admitted due to high fever and severe stomach ache which was a fallout of her disease, cancer the emperor of all maladies coupled with equally harsh treatment Chemotherapy. She was in and out of the hospital. Her days were numbered.

I was getting late as I would also have to buy medicines, provide necessary things as well as meet the doctor. Its difficult to fight a losing battle. But letting go is even more difficult. I left my  4 year old daughter Juhi with the neighbour and for a couple of days, received no message from my husband who was posted in the borders. I was anxious, tensed dejected but ironically just had myself to pat and say...YOU HAVE TO GO ON. 

I wanted a miracle to happen that could iron out all creases.

A typical Sadhubabaa

Just then a middle aged man in orange outfit stood beside the window. He resembled a “ Sadhu babaa” with the trademark dhoti and a bowl which had a Trishul and photos of couple of Gods. And he started moving the Rudraksh garland before my eyes and chanted some mantras. I generally ignore these characters as they seem to be feigning. But that day I couldn’t.  

He assured me a miracle. As if he could read my mind. Then he asked me to give him the biggest number of note in my purse and promised to return it when the traffic signal turned green. Sceptically but with an underlined hope I gave him rupees 500. He rattled out something. Unintelligible of course to my ears. Honking of the horns prompted me to start my car. The man was strangely staring at me and finally I threatened him to call the police if he dared not to give back the money. I knew that would be difficult as he had the chances to disappear in the crowd. I glared at him and acted to get out of the car. Few watched the tamasha. Suddenly he threw the money to me. As I pressed the accelerator I found the 500 rupee crumpled but intact. I placed it in my purse roughly as I was driving amidst heavy traffic. From the rear view mirror I found the man standing though now appeared miniscule gradually turned to a spot and then disappeared.

Why I gave the money I couldn’t figure out as I never trusted such street Sadhubabaas. Had he been a cheater he would have never given me back the money. And why did he keep on standing? I wasn’t hypnotised because the moment I gave the money I realised to have been a emotional fool.

So was it a miracle then? Somehow I was elated for the moment. That day nothing exceptional happen. Maa was in pain, doctors prescription became even more lengthy and maa’s life short, I got late after the doctors visit and found my daughter asleep in my neighbours house. This scenario was almost regular.

But somehow I kept that 500 rupee note intact. From its crumpled state it was easily distinguishable from others.  I still have it. Certain things in life are devoid of reasoning. Do I still hope a miracle? Yes, why not?

Whats in a name?

Though one might think like Shakespeare , "What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet," 

I beg to differ. Bongs are very particular about names, pronunciation and their meaning, though when we traverse outside Bengal border it gets distorted. For obvious reasons. Like my name Palashpriya became Pluspriya, Poolshpiya, Plaaseypiya, and some were loyal even to excuse from such tongue twister of a name (they thought) to “Can I call you just Plus..please?”..My hubby initially started with Priya...obviously during courtship PRIYA to PRIYEE becomes easy, Agree? Then when some asked me about the meaning of my name I courteously take the pain to explain...its called so because Saraswati Goddess loved Palash or Polash flowers and her worship is incomplete without the same. So Saraswati Devi’s another name is Palashpriya. And then someone would definitely be intelligent enough to say, “To ji aap ki maa appka naam Saraswati kyun nehi rakkhi?’’...I felt like banging my head.

Then when I chose my children’s’ names it was also the same herculean task. Names had to start with A because my hubby’s name starts with the same alphabet ( My husband felt better too) and then Priya was must to rhyme with my name (booster to a mothers ego). So AALIYAHPRIYA  sounded perfect and unique for my daughter!

With my son the same problem arose but it was little easy because in no way any name could rhyme ‘Priya’..We chose the name ARIHANT. Sad for me that he didn’t have any part of my name, but I felt better when people claimed , “ oh your boy resembles you so much”....as if they discovered a hidden treasure! Thank you anyways. I was sure to have found the most unique and uncommon name unless one day......

 I saw an Advertisement in the news paper on  ARIHANT Cement company. I was shattered only prayed  that my friends would not be able to trace it. Until then came a call from my best friend, “Hi Palash saw the news paper..ARIHANT..bla bla cement yaar..bla bla”...I barely spoke and couldn’t take the joke and my dear friend Moushumi  knew it. She thoroughly enjoyed the moment. Crestfallen I was!

Judging by my expression and seeing my plight my hubby came to my rescue. You got to be proud, our boy will be rock solid as cement! Okay I take it!