Muscat, for me is so packed with memories that there is probably no such place that I can go to without being reminded that this is the place where I grew up.
Just this morning, on my way to work I spotted a man who looked like someone I knew.
Identifying an uncanny resemblance, I twisted in my seat to get a better look as the car whooshed past. Hoping that it might just be him.
My math teacher. Who, to me was one of the best educators one could have. A solitary man who lived a living as simple as simple could be. His entire life revolved around his students. Clad in loose trousers and an over-sized shirt in shades of blue, never tucked in – he seemed to care nothing about the world we lived in. Even the fee that we paid him, he would never ask for. Always quiet, except when he was un-complicating calculus for several of us who had severe mathematical anxiety; only smiling at times when we were being particularly foolish or at a mathematical jape.
Some people thought he was cold. Others thought him to be indifferent. But I felt he guarded something within himself that caused him much hurt.
Our classes were usually in a group of 4 to 5 and sometimes he would come home to give me special lessons. It was during this time that he formed a friendship with my mother and for the first time I heard about where he was from, what he liked to eat and when his birthday was. I think there was even a hint of why he was, the way he was – but I cannot remember clearly.
What I do recall is the dedication he had for his subject and the amount of work he put in to ensure that each of us individually felt taken care of.
When I moved away from Muscat, I made sure I called him every year for his birthday and he seemed delighted in his own way to hear from me – and always said that he knew I would go a long way, even though math was not my calling. And then suddenly, I was no longer able to reach him – his mobile number would not function and I had no other means of getting in touch.
It bothers me to have lost him, one of the most precious teachers I had the good fortune of knowing and being taught by. A genuine well-wisher and most of all, a good man.
In Muscat, when I see a familiar blue shirt, loose trousers and a bald patch – I have to wheel around and look.
So tragic.
I know for sure that I won't find mine on any social platform.
I do hope you find yours 🙂
Wow I have one too.. But i never knew he'd noticed me in a class of 45 until my mother met him once and told him my name and he went "Ah ya i remember him!" And I was so delighted! I found him on FB but he never replied n i don't see him active on it anymore.. :/
Math teachers… sigh!
You have one too? How strange it that.
At least you found him. Don't lose touch – find his email id and stalk!
Lost him already.. Found him and messaged him.. got no reply.. and now he's not on FB anymore.. and somewhere in Jammu as a principal..