What she taught me

She taught us Shelly, Byron, Milton and Keats at college; and the passion with which she recited the verses and described their meanings at length, would often leave me breathless. Her eyes would shine behind her glasses and her gaunt face would turn pink while reciting Shelley’s I Arise From Dreams Of Thee.

Our mouths agape we used to watch her sway on her feet while the words just poured through her lips. "O, lift me from the grass, I die, I faint, I fall…"

She would get into a kind of frenzy describing love, passion, sadness and the intensity of every emotion that all those poets tried to depict in their creations.

Outwardly, she looked as ascetic as a dry twig. She had thin ruler type body, sallow complexion, thinning hair that was cut close to her scalp giving her a boyish look, and she wore black-rimmed spectacles with lenses so thick that her eyes almost disappeared behind them. But during English literature classes she would be transformed into a goddess of love and passion.

On the first day of our class, she had just entered the classroom briskly, nodded her head briefly at us and without asking for any kind of introduction had turned to the blackboard.

On that she wrote an entire list of things that we were not supposed to do in her class. The list comprised of wearing noisy jewelry that would distract her while she taught, preening or playing with our hair during lectures, looking outside windows when she is explaining things, doodling in notebooks etc. She allowed no note writing during her lectures.

Just listen, absorb and write the summaries on your own. She emphasized.

"Poetry is not taught," She said. "It is conceived, nurtured, carried inside and given birth to, like a baby. I allow no notes. You all will have to go through the labour pains while understanding the nuances of reading and writing poetry. Remember, nothing creative is born without pain."

We heard many stories about her, later. One of them was her separation from her husband who was a very famous poet and songwriter of those days. There were plenty of gossips regarding her eccentricities, her difficult moods, her live in relationship with a man who was twenty years younger than her, and her nonconformist views.

The 80's were the times when many Indian women were tentatively stepping out from homes, taking up careers, and leaving their husbands if he did not fit in with their plan of things. But still she raised lot of speculations. Coming from a conservative and sheltered background, I was quite fascinated with her strong views about marriage, divorce, love and open relationships that she often discussed during the lectures. Somewhere deep inside me something struggled to break free and I felt as if she is reaching out to my innermost thoughts. Talking to me above all the other heads.

One evening I was sitting alone, drinking tea at the college cafeteria and she came and sat at my table. After the greetings and exchanging few odd comments about the weather, we fell into silence and concentrated on our tea.

"So you got married?" She asked suddenly, while stirring her tea.

"Sorry?" I was not expecting the abrupt question.

She kept staring at her cup and then she spoke, "You know I have often seen you having your tea alone. I see a streak of independent spirit in you. A spark straining to come out. By the way, do you love the man? Why did you get married while still at college’?"

She showered me with questions.

Well, I was not the only one who was married while still at college, there were few more who were finishing the semesters after marriage, but the fact that she was asking these questions from me, puzzled me. I told her quietly that I just gave in to my parent’s wishes. Her eyebrows rose to her hairline and she rolled her eyes. But she said nothing.

We drank our tea in silence. Then she spoke again.

"You know, your creativity will be killed forever if you carry on with this early marriage. I can see your future. Would you be spending your life wiping snotty noses, changing diapers and pandering to a man’s inexhaustible ego?"

I remained silent as I knew about her feminist views and was not surprised that she was so vehemently vocal about her thoughts on marriage and men in general.

She did not wait for my response and I noticed that it was not expected from me too.

"You are not ready to receive what is given to you right now. You will either ruin yourself, or run away. Depends on how much guts you have. I see that something in you is being smothered and it would leave you with loads of emptiness later on. Act now. Know what you need."

She drained her cup and getting up in one smooth gesture, walked out. Leaving me with an open mouth. As usual, she used abstract phrases in her speech. I could not get the full implications of what she meant at that time, though she left me with a sense of foreboding.

Later, much later, when I was single again, I recalled all her words and realised that she had spoken prophesied words. What we want is so different from what we need. If only we realize the difference at the right time, everything else in life falls into place. She was also letting me know that it requires great courage and grit to live life on our own terms and not be afraid to protest if something is being violated in our life. Especially, our freedom of choice.

In retrospect, I realize how critical we were of her weird talks and avant-garde life style. We used to call her an absentminded oddball, but she was so much more perceptive than all of us who never find the courage to rebel against the rules of society and continue to live life more for an audience, rather than ourselves.