Sketchstory No. 37 - 'Darling...I'm Sorry' by Anuradha Bhattacharya

I was my parent’s only child. My mother was a school teacher of a very prestigious school of Kolkata and she got my admission done in the same school. Right from the childhood, I was very fascinated by my mother’s designation in the school. She was a simple class teacher in the beginning but it used to give me tremendous pleasure to see her around me in the school. When she got promoted to the post of teacher in charge, I felt so proud to stand up with the other children in the school and wish her Good Morning. I used to feel an important person when the other children of the school used to come and befriend me and asked me “are you Usha Aunty”s daughter?” By the way my mother was known in the name of Usha aunty. 

My mother was very very conscious about her daughter’s discipline in school and her constant vigilance always stopped me in crossing the limits of indiscipline. Though her presence gave me opportunities to enjoy lots of facilities unlike other students but my freedom to show naughty instincts sometimes like a normal child was restricted. 

Gradually as I grew up and left school, the values taught by my mother always brought appraisals and love from all teachers and classmates of the other colleges and universities where I completed my education. The strict principles which I was expected to respect and follow every time in my life created a distance between us as a mother and daughter as I felt it was curbing my independence, but as a teacher her contribution in my life was immense...I respected her dignity, her fairness, her patience and her sense of responsibility while discharging her duties as a teacher and that made me decide my future profession as a teacher. Little did I know that day, that apart from all the virtues which I learnt from her, that was not enough....many were still to come .

Within an year of my marriage, I started my career as an assistant teacher of one of the reputed missionary schools of Varanasi , Uttar Pradesh and ultimately the day came when I took my daughter for admission in the same school where I taught. My dream came true. It brought back old memories of my childhood.

Unlike me , my daughter was very fond of cultural activities and took part in many events , both external and internal and won prizes for the school. She was a graceful dancer and the emotions on her face during the dance performances made her a favourite student of her dance instructors .She was not very good in academics and occasionally missed her regular classes due to dance practices but then too I felt proud of her when she along with her team bagged prizes for our school. She used to feel disappointed when her marks came less and each time she used to tell me “sorry Mamma”.

At last the time came when she was the senior most student in the school and this year was the last she would have given her performance for the school. A big event was organised for the parents on the large field of our school. I along with my two other colleagues were the in charges of a dance drama based on patriotic theme. All students were excited and I was super excited for my daughter who was one of my participants. Choreography, costumes, music and make up all were decided and the practices were going on a full swing.

Two days before the final day, when the costumes of our participants were supposed to be delivered, we were informed that there was some crisis in the boutique and the tailors would not be able to provide us forty dresses of which one belonged to my daughter. At once everything became dark in front of my eyes. What could be done when we had only forty eight hours in our hand was foremost in our thoughts. We could see the students practising with full zeal and excitement without knowing that they may not even participate. Throughout the evening we teachers ran from one tailor to the other but they refused to provide us any help. One day before the final event we went to the boutique where our dresses were initially ordered and pleaded them to somehow supply us with the dresses. After a long debate, somehow we were confirmed about the delivery of the costumes but not before twelve noon of the final day. We had no other alternatives but just to have trust on them.

Ultimately the final day arrived. From the morning, amidst of great hustle and bustle, everyone was in tension that the programme should come up to everyone’s expectation and should be praised by all the distinguished guests. But no one at that time could ever guess that a particular team of dancers was still unsure about it’s performance on that particular day. At the stroke of twelve, our forty dancers were still waiting anxiously for their costumes and some even started crying including my daughter. I felt helpless at that time and tried to imagine what my idol, my mother would have done at that time. 

Suddenly there was a huge clapping and shout of my children which made me realise that the costumes have finally come. Immediately we started handing over the costumes as per the names written on the packets ....but alas one costume had come less. When mostly all girls got ready, two participants were still left to be dressed up as the remaining one dress could fit any one of them....and out of them one was my daughter. With five minutes in hand ,the ultimate decision was to be taken by me...who would be the one to put on that dress...the other student or my daughter who was also at that time my student...I could feel the stare of four pairs of eyes on me but I couldn’t look at them. I felt as I was going to faint. Mother or Teacher...which role was I supposed play at that time...I found myself totally helpless. But then my mother’s words rang into my years...never do injustice with your profession, be always fair with your students and treat them as your own children in school.

My decision was made. At the cost of my daughter, I could not have sacrificed the effort and the happiness of the other child. Her mother’s expectant eyes must be waiting to see her daughter performing for her. A mother cannot deprive another mother of her happiness. I could feel the tears running out of my daughter’s eyes but as my eyes were also filled up with tears I could not look up to anyone. But to my surprise my daughter came forward, took the costume from my shivering hand and herself went to dress up her friend. For a second, for the first time in my life I had a regret of sharing the same school with my daughter but just the next second I could see my daughter respecting my dedication and trying to prove that a teacher cannot be anything but a noble person. I sacrificed my daughter’s happiness and she took my status to a very high level .

As she helped me to give the final touch to the make up of her friend, she turned around and started walking towards the large window which overlooked the large school field where the programme was already in progress. I tried to turn her around, but she just patted my hand and her red swollen eyes reassured me ‘Ma, it is ok, I understand your devotion towards your duty’. She undid her hair which was put up in a bun style to suit her dance style and it fell straight on her shoulders. As she looked out of the window , I quietly murmured ‘Darling , I'm sorry’, closed the door and ran to join my team on the ground

I don’t know whether I had taken the right step on that day, I wonder what my mother would have done in this situation and what all of you would have done but one thing I must admit...I may have lost the trust of my daughter on that day as a mother but I gained her respect for ever. Today she is also a teacher like her Grandmother and her mother.

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