Posted: July 2, 2014 in mixed bag, Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

Sheela wore a hairband with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, thick glasses and sometimes a shawl. She was allergic to chalk dust and sneezed into a white handkerchief. She taught us English and brought down the top stars of the class (and the Indian education system) when she announced we were to learn by rote no more. Instead, we had to put down what we understood in our own words. And I became a star. I had, without realizing it or attempting to, absorbed the language. The words, style and tone came through beautifully. Sheela was my personal cheerleader as the words began to flow, finding their place on the paper and moulding themselves into stories. I don’t know where it came from but I knew it was a good place. Do we leave places or do the places leave us? Sheela would look at me with those earnest eyes and tell me how good I was and people began to see me. I was less invisible. She left too soon but only after she irrevocably changed something in me.



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