Frangipani for the Soul

On social media, a video of a teacher and a student of an elementary school has gone viral. It takes the viewer to a classroom where a little boy is trying to win his teacher’s care because she chides him for his mischief. However, finally, the little boy is found to win his mentor’s heart.

This video created ripples in my memory taking me back to my days working in a CBSE school, long back in 2005. The first few days were horrible as I had to struggle and fight to manage the kids and maintain discipline in the class. Like any beginner, I too had doubts about continuing in that profession. As days went by, I discovered that these little kids have started conquering my heart with their innocence, love, and mischiefs. The doubts that I had slowly faded away and gradually got wiped off.

There was a pleasure factor lingering while interacting with elementary school kids. They are deprived of vanity and flaunting is unknown to them. Apart from the remuneration part, the job instilled a passion in me. To play, to teach, moreover, to learn with and from them. It was from them that I started learning to admit that ‘I am wrong’ and agree that ‘I don’t know’. These poor little kids were to be persuaded to converse in English, as I was directed! The moment I enter the classroom, kids rushed to me like swarms of flies with a roll of paper which contains Malayalam words to which I am to provide English words. (The list included pinching, tickling, gossiping, hitting, fighting, breaking up, so on and so forth). Literally speaking, I added a Malayalam- English dictionary to fatten my bookshelf to help myself and the kids! (Now I wish Google was at my aid!)

The challenge I had to face was I had to learn the English words from the huge dictionary that was at home. I admitted to them that I did not know the English translation of words they have collected and produced and that they had to wait till the next day. We started learning together and I grew with them. (I am grateful for those years, investing my ripe time with an inquisitive bunch of learners) We together brought out a manuscript of an English class magazine. It was adorable in its own way collecting and compiling the bric-a-brac created by these cute little hands. It is a souvenir on our existence. Mine and my little ones’ contribution has found its place in the history of that school. The Magazine would have been long forgotten and placed among the books in the school library or might have been referred to with wonder by their successors for a few years! (It was for the first time that the fifth grade had come up with such a one)

Happy days will not last long! Roads diverge often and everyone is supposed to choose one. Thus, I too had to leave the long veranda filled with complaints, chattering, and shouting of the students. The most painful moment was when I had to bid adieu to the fifth grade, my ‘vocabulary’ classroom! I cannot but remember with a tinge of pain, that day of parting them. In fact, they were not ready to accept my quitting the place. They swore that they would no longer speak in English. Finally, after an hour of weeping and consoling, they bid me goodbye! I was blanketed with their love in the form of greeting cards, flower vases, short poems, write-ups, and the like. Oh! These die-hard memories!

Years passed. Still, it wets my eyes when young men with moustaches and beards and beautiful ladies with kids in their arms run into me and playfully attempt to dust off and pick their names from my old book of memory. They have grown up and have entirely changed in their outward appearance. Often, I fail to identify them. But my heart swells with joy and gratitude because they keep me with them. These moments are rejuvenating! These memories keep us stay awake and alive. These meetings and recollections act as glues like the Frangipani that fixes the heart breaks.

 The Frangipani is known to be the “Tree of Life” due to its cleansing and refreshing power, both on body and mind, and many more. That might be the reason why Anees Saleem portrayed the Frangipani as a silent witness to the frequent meeting of his characters, Shahbaz and Humera, the illegitimate progeny of the dying King of his novel The Odd Book of Baby Names. The novel is narrated by multiple voices and walks the reader through 8 perspectives. Humera once notices that a broken heart sketched on the stone bench she sits, is found healed by the Frangipani tree by dropping its blossoms onto the gaps. I wish that many more Frangipani falls occasionally to cleanse and heal the hardly visited and unattended pages lying beneath the memory lane.

*For those who do not know Frangipani.

Ms. Saritha. K, Head, Dept. of English, Al Shifa College of Arts and Science, Kizhattoor, Perithalmanna