Happiness

I don't remember my mother. How she looked, what she wore I have no
idea. I have been told that she died when I was three years old. My dad
married again and shifted to another city. I was left in the custody of
an uncle who depended on the money dad sent every month for
everything-gambling, betting and incessant drinking. My evenings were
the loneliest. During the day there was school and I did my homework
only after eight pm. When I came home every evening after playing
cricket with friends I would have loved to be welcomed by a mother say
with a glass of milk in hand. All my friends said that they hated the
milk their mothers forced them to drink every evening. I would have
done anything for a mother and a glass of milk in her hand. When I
entered the house after sunset my uncle would send me to the grocer to
get his crispy snacks. And then his drinking would begin. At first he
abused everyone he knew for making him a failure. Then he begged their
forgiveness. After two hours of ceaseless alcoholism Uncle Jim would
collapse on the carpet. I learnt to make my own dinner every day-a
simple affair usually. I was in eighth grade when Mrs Florence Sen
joined as English teacher.
Mrs Florence Sen was a widow. She was twenty-nine years old and her
deceased husband worked as a pilot in the air force. Mr Sen had died in
action and Florence Sen was greatly proud of this fact. She wore her
widowhood like a badge and made it a point to mention it to anyone she
met. And this included her young, impressionable students. When she
told our class about her husband's unfortunate death I felt something
was amiss. It was as if she was trying to prove to the incredulous
world that she was happy in the absence of her husband. I felt, that,
like me she missed a family. I was good at English. In fact I secured
the highest marks in the half-yearly test. Mrs Sen took note of my
academic proficiency but that was all. One day Mrs Sen gave all of us
some books to read. The books belonged to her. In the evening she asked
me to carry the books to her house. Her house was a small one-storey
dwelling behind the school. Mrs Sen was about fifteen years my senior.
I felt honoured that she chose me to help her. Well, the walk to her
house took five long minutes. After the books had been returned to
their places Mrs Sen asked me to wait. A chair was pointed out to me. I
sat down and in ten minutes the coffee came. Only one cup had been made
and I asked Mrs Sen why she was not having coffee. The muscles of Mrs
Sen's face appeared to tighten and she said, "The sugar ran out."
Six months passed. Mrs Sen had not come to school for four days. On an
impulse I decided to find out. Well, I did the right thing. She was
down with typhoid and there was no one to look after her. A doctor was
called and he prescribed some medicines. I came an hour early every day
and did what could be better done by a lady nurse. I did feel a little
ashamed at first but Mrs Sen was unwell. In three weeks she was strong
enough to come to school. She obviously knew what I had done for her
during her illness but she preferred not to say anything about it. I
was disappointed and frankly, angry. But on my birthday someone left a
huge cake, chocolates and ten hard-bound literary classics outside our
front door. I kind of knew who it was but did not bother to thank the
person. We were now in tenth grade and I was really bad at geography.
We were told that a great way to score in geography was to practice
with a lot of maps. Our geography teacher Mrs Day had never thought
much of me. In fact she had publicly stated that I would fail in her
subject in the school board examination. One day she summoned me after
school to the geography room and asked me why I hated the subject. All
school-going students will know that every subject has some tricks of
trade. The teacher will only tell you so much. The brighter you are the
easier you learn those tricks. And then everything becomes easy. Mrs
Day used the next three hours to reveal Geography to me. I was told
what the subject included, why it was taught and learnt, and how to
master it easily. The great importance of maps was naturally
emphasized. At the end of the lecture I began liking Geography. I
understood its beauty so to speak. As I was leaving the geography room
I realized why Mrs Day had condescended to speak to me in private. Of
course I could not thank Mrs Sen for it. Ten days before the school
board exam Mrs Sen organized a special orientation lecture. She gave us
a booklet containing suggestions and guidelines for the forthcoming
examination. Only after checking with others I found I had some extra
information. My booklet contained personal comments about my own
strengths and weaknesses by who else-Mrs Florence Sen. At the very end
there were these words in her writing-YOU MUST DO WELL.
Thanks to my well-wishers I did manage to do well in my examinations,
even in geography. After the results were declared Mrs Florence Sen
invited me to have dinner with her in a posh, well-known restaurant.
After much thought I decided to go. Well, she was not alone, our
physics teacher Mr Roy was with her. Mrs Sen informed me that she was
getting married to Mr Roy next Sunday. She proceeded to tell her fianc?
what a nice boy I was and how I had looked after her when she was sick.
I gulped my dinner down as soon as possible and left, fighting hard to
hold back tears.