A long way to go

Teenage years are supposed to be the golden years of one’s life, right? My teenage life was full of bitterness and pain. Today I’ll open such a chapter of my life which shows what made my depressed days brighter. There are some words, some advice of elders I’ll always treasure in my mind. There was one particular piece of advice which still rings in my mind whenever I feel blue.

Sources of inspiration which come right after my family are my teachers. Obviously, last but not the least comes those special people who leave footprints in my heart-my friends.

I never participated in the physical education classes. Instead, I’d go quietly up to the library and sink into the vast ocean of story books. Even half an hour of free time meant reading.

Though I had to pressurize my mind to keep away from outdoor games, (after all, a game of volleyball does seem attractive at the age of fourteen) I could gain something more precious. All the teachers came into the library to prepare notes or to leaf through the newspapers. This gave me the opportunity to get close to almost all of them. Perhaps that’s why I never had any teacher-phobia. They would tell me stories about their childhood, family, college etc. Even their children who studied in the school (both juniors and seniors) were my friends.

I was a pure science student during my O-levels. I had to attend Chemistry practical classes.

Our Chemistry teacher was not a dazzling beauty. She was one of the shortest teachers. A tanned complexion (not very dark), intelligent eyes, thin, wavy hair and a very intellectual brain made Mrs. Ruby different from others. She was very strict about studies but a very soft person within.

That year, plenty of students took chemistry. We were divided into two groups-A and B. I was one of the group B students.

On Tuesdays, group A class was held in the 6th period, B in the 5th. It was vice-versa on Wednesdays.

That day (Tuesday), Miss (we addressed all the females as Miss, and males Sir) forgot to come to our class. Though I could understand that it was her mistake, I did not call her. Being the outcast of the class, I was afraid to take steps myself.

People were having the time of their lives. Shouting, jumping, (and the young couples? Well, you know!) The class seemed like hell to me.

The next day, when I was reading in the library, miss came up to me. After some usual storytelling, she suddenly asked:

“Why didn’t you call me yesterday?”

Startled at this unexpected question, I answered:

“Miss, I didn’t, because others didn’t.”

Her eyes shone. Smiling encouragingly at me, she said:

I expected a call from YOU, Not others.

Knowing I had to be honest with her, I replied:
“Miss, if I did call you, the others would push me down from the broken stairs, and only I know how much it hurts, both physically and mentally.”

Looking into my eyes, she softly touched my hand and gave that life-changing advice:

“You are born differently, so be different. The world will show unpleasant attitudes, but even if the world turns upside down, TRUST YOURSELF.”

From then on, whenever I make any decision, I think with both my heart and brain. I’ve made it a habit to call teachers before classes.

For my loved ones, I can even sacrifice my life, but that does not mean I’d have to forget myself because:

“I have promises to keep
And miles to go
Before I sleep.”