“The Inextinguishable Lamp – Tamil Teacher”-Utharakosamangai Relationships – 8
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('Thanks to ChatGPT for assisting in the English translation of my original Tamil creations.”)
(Illustration by Usha Bharathi – with thanks)
In our younger years, the responsibility of shaping us does
not belong only to parents—teachers share that responsibility too. Through
their habits, behavior, and way of life, they become guides to the students who
observe them closely.
If we take a school where each class has twenty students,
then in those days, a high school teacher interacting with about 120 students
across six classes would leave a deep impact on them. At that age, such
influence settles firmly—like a nail driven into fresh wood. It can nurture
good qualities or bad ones. Among those who nurtured good qualities was his
Tamil teacher.
Since Utharakosamangai was a small village, everything the
teacher did was visible to everyone—especially the students. Outside school
hours, the temple was almost his residence. A bachelor, he lived with his
younger brother and mother.
When he first came to that village on transfer, some of his
habits seemed unusual to the boy. Since the boy and the teacher’s younger
brother were classmates, he had many chances to visit their home.
He noticed something striking: both the teacher and his
brother would bow at their mother’s feet every morning and evening before
praying to God.
At his own home, he was pampered by his grandmother and
great-aunt. Being the only young boy among several women, his stubbornness was
indulged.
But here, things were different. The Tamil teacher would buy
vegetables for his mother and cut them for cooking. His brother would fetch
water from the village tank, carrying pots on his hip and head. To the boy,
this seemed amusing at first.
He began observing the teacher closely—not just at home, but
also at the temple and school. Whenever the boys went to the temple to play,
the teacher would often be seen sitting quietly in a corridor, meditating.
In school, if anyone answered attendance in any language
other than Tamil, he would immediately send them out of the class.
Similarly, the English teacher and headmistress, Ruby
Thomas, insisted that only English be spoken in her class. If Tamil was spoken,
students would be sent out. It was a time of discipline—teachers and school
functioned with structure, and students gradually adapted.
Yet outside the classroom, the Tamil teacher was warm and
friendly—like a companion. Since the family knew about him, the boy’s
grandfather was happy that he was friends with the teacher’s brother. He hoped
that by seeing them, the boy might lose his stubbornness. But it took time
before he realized the mischief the boys got into together.
All their adventures—collecting honey, eating pigeon meat,
drinking goat’s milk—were done together. Once, without informing anyone, they
rode bicycles through a shortcut to Sethukkarai, bathed in the sea, and
returned in the evening. The scolding they received—from the grandfather and
from the Tamil teacher—was severe. They were even punished by being told not to
speak to each other for a few days. It was a hard lesson.
At the same time, the Tamil teacher noticed the boy’s
pronunciation while reciting Tamil lessons and his interest in reading poetry
from the library. Encouraging him, he asked him to write poems.
The boy’s first poem, titled “Sunrise,” still exists
in his old notebook.
The teacher corrected it and had it published in the school
annual magazine. He encouraged him to participate in speech competitions, essay
writing, singing, and drama. Just as he excelled academically, he began winning
prizes in these too—and the teacher took great joy in it.
He even encouraged him to participate in a poetry
competition conducted by Ananda Vikatan. The boy won a consolation
prize, and for two months, the magazine arrived weekly at his home. No one was
happier than the teacher.
Time passed. Many changes came. The teacher got married. The
boy went away for higher studies. Whenever he returned to the village during
holidays, he would visit the teacher’s house, greet the couple, and receive
their blessings.
The teacher’s mother passed away. His brother joined the
police in another town. Gradually, contact faded.
But in the boy’s memory, the teacher who sparked his
interest in many arts continues to live on—as his Tamil teacher, forever.
Every time he looks at his first poem, “Sunrise,” the
memory of his teacher shines like a radiant lamp.
Among the memories of his school days—fragrant like flowers,
sweet like taste—this stands glowing like a bright flame.
That is the “Inextinguishable Lamp – Tamil Teacher.”
– Nagendra Bharathi
My Poems/Stories/Articles in Tamil and English
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