Raindrops raced the windows of my car. Ah ! Monsoon finally. Saavn- the most awaited time of the year in my part of the world. After the hot and dusty summers leave my motherland thirsty, its dwellers tired, Lord Indra finally soaks us wet in respite. For me this season means a lot. It was the time of my arrival in this world and I seem to have a never ending love affair with these rains. It always seems to me that the most joyous of my life's moments had been, have been inexplicably linked to the the monsoon precipitation. I could revel in this moment for hours; recollecting my childhood antics drenched in rain, my adolescent self running wild in puddles, my adult self enjoying the rains with a cup of coffee - but my phone decided otherwise. A loud *TRING TRING* became the cause of the downfall of my elation and my extremely gratifying nostalgia. I resolved at once to change my ringtone to something more tasteful, something in tandem with my favourite season, something befitting a Saavn lover. In my head I started considering appropriate songs and tunes when the *TRING TRING* became unbearable and I had to attend to my phone. On the screen was an unknown number. I am never in favour of attending calls while on the wheel so I halted my car by the side of the road and answered the call.
" Hello"
" Hello is this Vrinda ?
" Yes who is this, ummm ma'am ? Ma'am Dahlia ?"
A flood of joy and joviality swept me completely. Ma'am Dahlia it was after so long.
" Good evening ma'am ", I almost yelled with excitement,
"It is so good to hear from you after so long".
Ma'am Dahlia, my favourite teacher, her voice was powerful enough for me to hark back to those glorious days of school. It made me recall all my friends; some I still was in touch with , others who had drifted far away in the ocean of life.
"Good evening dear", a pleasant voice said on the other side,
" The pleasure is mine, I am so glad to talk to you".
She has always been formal with us since school days, she had wanted to teach us the intricacies of polite conversation. This formality though never lessened her love for us or her taunts on us.
" Where have you been all this while, huh ? It was so hard for me to find your contact details, you never thought of staying in touch with this old friend of yours ? " .
I was waiting for this, too much sweetness and ma'am never went well together and I admit I was at fault here. Before bidding adieu had not all of us , me and my overly enthusiastic classmates promised to always stay in touch? To always inquire each other's welfare and wellness and to always seek advice from our dear teacher who always insisted on being called a mentor or a mother. Yes she was like a parent to us and yes she did consider us her children. She went on,
" I met Neha the other day near the school gate and asked her about your whereabouts. She had come to visit the school with some of her friends, I thought she'll know where you are but she was as clueless as I was. She gave me Alia's contact number and I called her then."
My teacher spoke rapidly with some sense of urgency I could not decipher. It was nonetheless a very light tone she adopted. She did not pause even to breathe. She spoke with a childlike zeal in her voice, outside a zephyr blew gently caressing the tree branches and my thoughts. There was the freshness of monsoon in this conversation. I listened to her for about half an hour while she narrated me her unending efforts of establishing contact with me, the naughty, annoying kid of her class. Interestingly she had not been my teacher for a very long time. She as a matter of fact only taught me for two senior most grades of my high school but the special bond which we established in that very short but metaphorically long period of time was irrevocable. Years later as she talked to me, nothing much had changed. Her tone, her voice, her smile. Everything. You might be curious as to how I may tell the nature of her smile but I assure you I can. She talked and I listened. She rebuked and I gracefully accepted. I could picture myself sitting in the classroom without my book, (which I forgot often ) my friends making jokes and how I would give into their jokes and laugh out loudly between class and how they would distance themselves from the entire event, control their laughter and would push me into trouble. How then I would be chided for the remainder of the period . Oh! Golden Days , when two of my friends would constantly chat during lectures and ma'am Dahlia, the master tactician would change their seats in order to keep them mum and divert attention to her lectures and would secretly ask some of us to see if they didn't revert back to their original seats and ways .
" Can you imagine, I called her up then and she had no knowledge either. She gave me Riya's contact and I thought I have almost got you know. Remember how you and Riya were always together in mischief and in punishment. I was sure one monkey will know the whereabouts of the other monkey, but I was shocked to know she didn't have your contact too. I told her to search for you on social media. I knew you had some trouble when we broke contact I thought you'd be back. You dimwit also discarded your old number, How on earth was somebody to get to you?".
I found myself pondering over how blessed our generation is to have something like social media to connect us back home, what did those folks do back in the time when there were not even telephone services widely available . Despite this blessing I could never spare much time to reuniting with my old friends and teachers , credit my self created hectic life .I had few moments to spare and whatever I could was usually devoted to acquiring some rest. One of my e-mail account was hacked a few years back and since all my other accounts were synced together I had to almost start afresh. Lack of time made sure that I never really reconnected with my old buddies, nor I re-established my broken contacts. I realized with a start how dormant I had become and how far I had drifted in life.
" I thought I would have to wait for the end of vacations and check for you in the school records, but I got lucky. Riya called me up to tell me she had found a landline number of yours in an old diary of hers. I dialed the number and your mother answered and through her finally I got to the monkey I am speaking to currently."
So much effort I thought, so much effort to talk to this monkey ? What on earth had descended on my teacher that she did so much to contact me?
I voiced my curiosity to her.
"Well", she said, " I wanted to apologize you know ".
I was almost sure ma'am Dahlia owed me no apology, for had there been one ai would have had extracted it by now.
" You remember the day before the Declamation competition, I had asked you too put the certificates and trophies in my locker and hand me back the keys ?"
"Aah ! yes ma'am, I remember all that very well and I must tell you ma'am I did ......"
"Yes yes I am coming to that, you're still as impatient as you were back then."
I itched to counter that allegation of how I was praised regularly for my patience now in my workplace but finally decided to abandon this very risky undertaking.
" And then later on the day of the competition when during the prize distribution ceremony we could not find those keys and we had to ask somebody to break my locker while the chief guest waited for the certificates and trophies ? Oh what an embarrassment it was. We had to play cartoon clippings as fillers until we managed to break that lock."
I have not forgotten that fateful day. The funny happenings and the unfunny scolding that followed my supposed display of lack of responsibility. Was it a rainy day too ? Maybe not.
" So to tell you dear, that I just took out an old purse out of my almirah a few days back, the same purse I used to carry to school those days and I found that key there. Oh God, I really could not believe at first. I swear I still do not remember you giving it to me. I do not know how the devil did it nestle in my purse there but after this discovery I realized I owed you an apology. God I had admonished you for being so careless.
I remember you telling me -* but ma'am I gave you the keys back* with those innocent and rapidly blinking eyes of yours and I inturn slapping charges of deceit on you. Oh poor child I am so sorry . Hahahahaha "
I sat back and laughed, we both laughed for a good while. My innocence had prevailed. My rapidly blinking eyes did not help me then but I must point out that it is an excellent trick and works very well especially if you actually happen to be innocent.
Outside the Pitter patter of the rain against my car window grew more frequent proving yet again why the monsoon is my favourite season after all.