A Letter To My Beloved Teacher

My Beloved Teacher

I never thought, even in my dreams,that your guidance and teaching would have so much impact on my life. How can I forget, my life, before class 8 when I used to be so stupid with my seniors and even with you? I was footed myself in the path where there was darkness of failure. Sometimes I remind how ferocious I was when I used to wrestle with the group of my juniors, inspired by Mithun Da. There was not a single day I did not fight. You do not know, but I used to have a needle and strings in my geometry box to sew my torn cloths by daily fighting. The day was really humiliating for me when my principal called me, before my seniors, to introduce me how good I am and I, with swollen lip, somehow hiding my torn pocket of my shirt with my hands, became a laughing stock. But your presence at that moment was really so cozying. Oh! The day when some of my friends replaced the girls Tiffin Box with dirt, and whole class was beaten and I with swollen hand, weeping eyes, abusing inside the principal, was feeling a great comfort by your warmth words. It was coincidence that something happened during class 8^th. I struggled inside, in your presence and for the first time, I felt the need of God and Philosophy. Everything changed and my behavior too. It is you who inspired and encouraged me in my 10^th and made me to stand 1^st in district. It was the greatest day of my life when I was being awarded by Governor and you, beside me, were applauding. How can I forget the moments when you told me the difference between love and infatuation? In spite of many difficulties, you showed me way to crack IIT-JEE. Your constant encouragement never let me feel any problem even, in IT-BHU. You are the one whose presence I feel everywhere and even when I am going to set my foot in professional world, I am confident, that you are always with me to guide; to inspire.

Well, My Dear Readers, you will be confused to whom, I am addressing. The word ‘Teacher’ for me is not merely a person, sometimes it’s me; sometimes it’s my parents; sometimes it’s my friends; sometimes it’s just a book; sometimes it’s your blogs.