Remember the old Raymonds ad? Where it's the teacher's final day at the school and the children are giving him a farewell?
The gift wrapping says, 'To the man who taught us everything.'
I had such a teacher too, 'the man who taught me everything' - at least, he tried.
I've seen him in only one attire; a khadi shirt and mundu ( I've heard he spun them himself, but could never confirm this with him.) Having worked all over Keralam as an educationist, he was well known for his unshakeable integrity and principles.
I would be confused though, when his non-violence gave way to outbursts at errant wards. This conflict was resolved when, years later, he confided with a twinkle in his eyes that it was always an act. One should never lose their cool, but may act like you've lost it for some positive end effect. True Gandhian.
He, along with my parents, taught me that it's more important to grow into someone you could live with, than into someone who's successful.
Amazingly determined, he could be. One evening, all of us at home were (pleasantly) surprised to see a frail old man walk in through our gate armed with that signature benevolent smile, walking stick in hand. Long back, he had promised he'd visit us some day. Paying no heed to his health, he had coolly boarded a bus and come over trusting his instincts to find the right address. True to form, he refused Dad's plea to drop him back, and caught another bus home.
What analytical thinking I can do today, I owe a large chunk to him. What I do for a living, graphics programming, is a blend of two things I love - math and language. He taught me what those two meant to each other. Why it was important that I know the etymology of 'rational number' (from 'ratio') so that I never forget that such a number is one that can be expressed as a ratio. I doubt I ever will. Or that Pythagoras' theorem begins "The sum of the squares on..." and not "The sum of the squares of...", thereby fixing in my mind forever the geometric meanings of numbers and the historic significance this association had to the Greeks.
Every time I break down a problem, every time I craft a solution, every time I surprise myself with an elegant answer, I grow surer that the seeds were sown in that red-oxide laden class room bathed in evening sunlight where one teacher gently led our hands in molding and shaping ourselves.
Thank you, N Divakaran Nair, 'sir'.
