A preceptor is like a compass that shows its protege the right direction which would lead him/her to the eventual place where that protege can
live his/her dream life. In my journey of becoming a writer, I had four
preceptors:
Mohite Madam (Teaching Span: 1997 - 1998)
My kindergarten class teacher and my favorite teacher too. I got along well
with her and who was one of a kind teacher for the coming 17 years of my life.
She has always been nice to me and was familiar to my father too. Many times,
she would inquire about me to father if they ever came across in the Sunday the market of Buldhana.
A few years back I
investigated my academic records. A curiosity had consumed me to see what I
have done in this area, so I checked out my old academic records. After seeing
the embarrassing academic performance my eyes fixed on one particular report
card. The one from my kindergarten years and there Mohite Madam had written
about my proclivity towards telling stories and writing them.
That only record brought a
smile to my dull face. She had seen those potentials in me at an early age in
my life. I was 4 then. I remember how once I had told a complete story before
the whole class and had received praise for it. That I believe is one of the
best parts of my academic life and solely because of Mohite Madam.
"Should one be amazed
to understand about Piyush's proclivity towards storybooks? After all his
father is a librarian." - Mohite Madam.
Rafiq Sir: (Teaching Span: 2013 - 2015)
It was 2013 when I was filling up the admission form in G. S.
College, Khamgaon for my graduation in B.Com. As I had reached the admission
window after a long one-hour wait in that queue, I then saw, behind that iron
grill, a man in his early thirties. He was accepting forms and filling up the
details on the college computer.
As he saw my form, he
chuckled lightly and said to me, while still looking at the computer screen.
"I'll see you in Account's and Economics’ class, Mr. Thorat.'
That felt weird but I
didn't answer much. I just wanted to be done with this admission process and
get back to my home. After nearly a month the college started, and I saw that
same person coming into my class with Economics’ book. As he looked at me and
noticed my presence in the class he greeted me, "Hello, Mr. Thorat. Nice
to see you here." That was Rafiq Sir.
A two years’ time passed
with very memorable events but what really connected Rafiq sir with me was the
time when I had written a letter to both of my favorite teachers in G. S.
College after I had left the college suddenly in my second year. He read that
letter and came to understand my struggles as a student and as a person. He
instantly empathized with them and accessed that college data in which my
contact information was also there. He got my father's mobile number and called
him.
The conversation with my
father was different. He had come to understand my issues with my father. But
he didn't go deep into it and remained formal with my father and extracted my
number and called me instantly. I was with my best friend Juno at that time and
was trying to study. I was so amazed to get a call from him and he had asked me
to pay a visit to him once in college.
After I put the phone down,
I was totally shocked. I felt so great that Rafiq sir called me, and I couldn't
believe this. And I kept telling Juno, "Rafiq sir called ME. Rafiq sir
called ME." and she was so happy to see my overwhelmed heart.
"Piyush, how happy you are to get a call from him." she said with
utter exuberance.
And yes, I was. It was
January 2016 and I had returned to G. S. College. There, my return had
surprised my old classmates of graduation. I was waiting for Rafiq sir to
finish his lecture, once he came out of the class, he called me with his usual
joyful style. "Hello, Mr. Thorat. You have been gone for a long
time." Then he had asked me to walk with him to the teacher's room. While
we were walking together and conversing, the whole college was staring at us.
My old classmates just stood in awe.
When most of our talk was
over Rafiq sir told me few things, "You were always there right
before my eyes, and I always felt that something is wrong with you. You can't
seem to adjust here. After reading your letter, which Thakur sir shared with
me, I came to know about your passion for literature. As a teacher, I feel like
a failure, Mr. Thorat. I should have understood your issues, but I couldn’t,
and it wounds me."
I was so speechless at that
moment. In all these last 17 years I just received rebukes from my teachers,
but this was the first time I saw that a teacher was blaming himself for not
being able to help me. I was touched by his concern. "Don't give
up Mr. Thorat. Keep trying. I understand that you don't enjoy formal education
because you like something else. But still, education is important, and you
must finish it to a certain point. Take your time, it's okay if you need a
little more time than others. Just keep on going, I am always with you. You are
not alone."
Well, he lied. He only
stayed with me for the next two years. On January 14, 2018, I lost him due to a
heart attack. He was in his mid-thirties.
Thakur
Sir: (Teaching Span: 2013 - 2015)
[Mr. Anderson to my Charlie - The Perks of Being a Wallflower]
Well, many had heard of Thakur sir's name in my talks, even in my
current PGDM college. He was my English Professor at G. S. College and I got
along with him really well. I have written about few events of G. S. in the
last year's teacher's day blog; which I had particularly dedicated to him and
Rafiq sir.
Thakur sir has an
immeasurable love for books. He reads so many books and has a collection far
beyond that. And one day he saw me reading a novel on the college campus and
that had caught me in his eyes, apart from my quiet nature in his class.
Soon I had a really great
Student-Teacher relationship with him and he ended becoming one of my
favorites. He was the first teacher whom I had admitted about my passion for
literature, revealing my troubles in adjusting in college and in my own life.
Then he showed that letter to Rafiq Sir.
After Rafiq sir said those
words, we both saw that Thakur Sir was returning to the teacher's room too
after his lecture was over. And as soon as he saw me with Rafiq Sir he uttered
my name in surprise with a bit of command mix in it.
"PIYUSH? I need to
talk with you." those were his words, which, I felt quite intimidating at
that time.
"May God save you from
his wrath, Mr. Thorat." Rafiq sir had mocked me at that time.
But there, when I and
Thakur sir were speaking. I broke down before him. I told him that I am scared
to pursue my passion because I am afraid that I would fail even in that. So in
order to avoid that shame, I was avoiding my passion too and yet was
suffocating without it.
"Be bad at what you
truly are Piyush, than being good at something that you are not. Be a bad
writer if you are afraid of that but be more afraid of not being the person you
dream about and remain common like most. You feel inferior to whom? These
idiots in class, who are just trying to run faster than each other? You are
better than that, then why do you think so low of yourself."
"Because I am scared.
To do something beyond norms is unimaginable. Especially when my father is very
strict about academics."
"I understand such
circumstances. Someday I would like to meet your father. There is something I
want to speak to him. But till then I do hope you would get some good people
who would help you to grow."
Little did I believe in his
last sentence that I shall get any people in the future who would help me to
grow but I just nodded obediently.
He had once met my father
and had said one thing.
"Set your son free.
Don't confine his wings to your own expectations. He has tremendous potentials
in him to fly high, that you are not aware of. He would do something in the
future that would make you proud in this world."
Now everyone tells me that
my father would have been so proud to see his son becoming a novelist. But how
could this dream come to fruition and who was that one good person I met in my
future which is now my present?
Shikha Ma'am: (Teaching Span: 2020 - 2022)
[Code Name - The Philosopher]
July 15, 2020,
was the first day of the Induction Program of Indira School of Business
Studies, PGDM, and there I saw a faculty who seemed so affable and instantly
distinctive from others. Her name was Prof. Shikha Sindhu and after nearly two
weeks she had some sessions with us and there I came to know about her love for
books.
Congeniality often unites people,
and this case wasn't different either. Our mutual love for books is what had
connected us in the first place, and we often talked about books and she had
suggested me few to read. I bought 'em and read 'em.
But soon our classes began,
the funny thing was that it was all going online, something that was perfectly
suitable for me. Most didn't like this method and hated this pandemic for the
same, but even so, it didn't affect my time.
Ma'am had seen and observed
me as I was her student in the first semester. She has a knack for connecting
with her students and get the best out of them. I was one of those fortunate
students. Soon she came to know about my passion for writing and was thrilled
when she read the story I had written.
"Why is it not a
book?" those were the first words she uttered as she called me after
reading the last chapter. I was glad to see her reaction. It only told me that
she liked what I had written but honestly speaking, I didn't take it seriously
at that time.
Publish this story? Is it
even good enough? Would people even like it? What if people would laugh at me?
Ma'am is always nice, is she being nice to me and trying not to make me feel bad
about what I have written? Perhaps she just wants to encourage me but that
makes me question the possibility of whether people would actually like
it.
All these questions haunted
me at that time, until then the situation demanded me to publish my work. Ma'am
was so happy to see me going in the direction of my dream. The compliment she
had paid me after reading my story was actually genuine. And someone like me
who hadn't received any compliments in years had difficulty in believing that I was
actually worthy of one.
Then I found a publishing
house and, in that process, Shikha ma'am was so supportive. She kept encouraging
me with every step that I was taking. Her encouraging words filled up courage
in me to walk towards my dream, to dare to dream something out of norms.
Things were going fine and,
in that process, the publisher had suggested that I can expand my story. It was
mid of November 2020. Two months had been passed since the demise of my father.
I had started to write two new chapters for my book but was caught with the
college schedule with most of my time. But then on 28th November, the college
had conducted 'Personal Interviews' as a part of our curriculum.
That interview went so catastrophic
for me. The interviewer had asked me about my family background and what else
did I like in life, and I talked about my passion for writing. Well, that
didn't go well. With my extreme proclivity towards literature, I was trying to
manage college activities, on the other hand, that wasn't acceptable for the
interviewer.
"Drop that notion of
writing. Have you forgotten the situation at your home? You must earn a
livelihood to support your family. Your father's demise has brought a huge
responsibility on your shoulder. You are not even any bestseller author nor are
you earning millions of dollars out of it. First focus on your academics then
entertain such fantasies."
Those words hurt me a lot.
It made me feel guilty. I don't think he was wrong for suggesting me to focus
on my academics. But it had put me on the guilt trip. I told Shikha ma'am about
what happened in the interview. She felt bad too and then I asked her one
question that was haunting me after that interview.
"Why academics is
always more important than any other thing in life? Why do other things need to
be sacrificed for it and not the other way around?" I was so vulnerable
when I asked her that.
"I shall never ask you to do so. But Piyush it is also true that academics
is important. It does give us livelihood and purpose in life." said
Ma'am.
Those words embedded in me
like sharp shards of broken glass. Even ma'am thinks academic is above everything
else? But all this time she had kept encouraging me to go on with my
passion.
Something has come up that
had required ma'am's urgent and absolute attention and the conversation dropped
there.
I felt so guilty for the
steps that I was taking to make my dream a reality. I should have gone towards academics,
but I was walking towards literature. That afternoon I looked at my brother and
mother and it reminded me of the responsibility I had, and I soon walked back
to my room upstairs and cried all afternoon.
My head was getting so
heavy with stress and ached so badly that I had started to feel it would
explode with all those stressful thoughts in my head. I endured it till evening
for 4 hours. Then after having enough of these guilty thoughts, I got
angry.
I turned on my laptop and
sat to finish the remaining part of my book. That evening I kept writing while
my head was aching so badly, while I felt so fatigued, I kept writing and
stopped not till 11:30 at night. And after that, I just texted Shikha Ma'am on
What's App that the final manuscript of my book is ready.
"Woah! You literally finished it off."
"I won't give up on my
dreams. Not for anyone or any reason."
"Hmm. Had your dinner?
I think not. Have it and take a rest now. We would talk tomorrow." those
were her texts.
And next afternoon I had a
call from her.
"What was that?"
ma'am asked. "Did you really feel that bad yesterday? Many interviews will
come and go Piyush. Don't feel down. Keep trying and you would do just fine in
time."
"I didn't feel bad
because of the interview...I felt bad because even you said academics is more
important. It put me into the guilt trip of my responsibilities, and I felt
like once again I would have to leave my dream after coming this close to
it." I had tears in my eyes. "My courage to go on with my dream came
out of your support to it. And...' the words stuck in my chest.
She instantly understood
what I was going through. "Piyush meri baat dhyan se suno. I would never say that only academics is
important, I had said it is also important and I want you to do what makes you happy. But yes, as a teacher I would encourage my students for their
studies. But most importantly I want my students to be happy in life. I never
force them to become what is expected of them but rather what they truly want
to be and what they truly are. So, life me khush
raha karo, aur aisi baato ka tension mat liya karo. Happiness is a choice, not a result."
I felt so silly how I had
misunderstood her words. "I'm sorry. I was scared. I thought I am doing
something wrong when I am chasing my dream."
"Kuch galat nahi kar
rahe ho."
"Then why does it feel
like it is wrong."
"Because that's how
everyone expects things to run, Piyush. In our society academics ko he jyada
importance diya jata hai. Most of the time people have to give up their passions for their academic duties."
"And I won't give up
on my dream," I spoke it determinedly. "I gave up on my dream many
times, not anymore. No matter what amount of resistance I experience. I would
hold on to my passion now."
"Now that's the
spirit."
"This student of yours promises you that he would not let some interviewer judge his life."
"Bravo." she seemed happy to see my such attitude.
"Now I won't
just publish one book, I would publish two books while being in Indira."
"But abhi tak
to pahili bhi release nahi hui." wondered ma'am.
"Yes," I spoke determinedly. "And I am telling you even before that that there would be a second book too. And I won't complete my second book on the cost of my academics. Soon the semester would be over and from next semester I would try to participate in class. Would try to interact with the faculty. It could amaze my classmates and might even question my introversion, and I am not saying that my interaction would be that much like those few active students in the class; surely it wouldn't be an easy task for me to adapt to that change but will keep pushing myself."
"I am so happy to see this change, Piyush." admitted Ma'am.
"And I shall be able to pull off that change because I would be getting help from an amazing teacher. But most importantly I would come up with a second book too."
Ma'am laughed a little.
"You are very stubborn, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, then go. Go
towards your dreams and stop not till they are achieved."
After that day I started to
work on my second book too along with my academics. It was Shikha ma'am who had
announced that in her last lecture that my first book would be coming out soon.
And also, she was the one who had made the official release of the cover page of the
first book.
In February the book was
launched and soon became popular in my college, ISBS, where many people loved
and connected with the story. Listening to their reviews now I truly believe
that it should have been a book and now it is one. And all thanks to this
amazing teacher who kept pushing me to achieve my dreams. Because of her teaching about life I call her with a different name: "The Philosopher."
And now guess what? The
second book is releasing soon and any guesses who was the first reader of that
story? 😄 I don't have to explain that...you have figured that out
already.
So, these are the four
preceptors who helped me in their own style to reach my dreams. Now my dream is
not just a dream but a reality. And I could achieve all these things because I
had great teachers.
Happy Teacher's Day to all
of you. No amount of gratitude would be enough for what you all have done for
me. Thank you. It is a pleasure to be your student.
P.S.: Dear Thorat
Sir, you have also been a teacher to me. You taught me many things in life
that shaped me into the person that I am today and still striving to be better.
I just want you to know that your disappointing son did it and his teachers
helped him to do it. Your friends say to me that today if you had been here
with us, you would have been so proud of me. 19 years I was a disappointment
for you and when I finally have something to make you proud of me, you aren't
there. Can't believe that it would be a year on the 14th of September since we
have lost you. Find your peace Thorat sir, because when we both meet in hell, I
am gonna be a real pain in your ass. Till then I'd keep achieving my dreams. 😉
