Naseer khan
With chalk in his hands, sketching neat and clean lines , circles and semicircles with a precision and accuracy sans scale and compass that made one wonder how the man attained such a painter-like perfection? In a while, the black board would look like a large printed sheet beautifully majestic and handiwork by the neatest of the hands. But more compelling in him was the delight in his eyes defying defeat and arousing hope among the meekest and slowest of his learners.
If one word would suffice the description of such a magnificent personality and undoubtedly, it would be golden. Golden in hue and impact with a remarkable shade of golden brown hair as smooth in touch as a jellyfish. The ordinary milky chalk looks like an extension of beauty and a great brush painting on a canvas as impressively as nature copies symmetry. Certain men achieve this distinction, they are larger than the institutions they serve and the institutions get more identity because of these extraordinary men. Since these men have exemplary dedication, application and mastery in their field.
Yet the most inspirational quality in him was the delight beaming in him as light flashes from torch head. His golden eyes with a grape like finish would flash in merriment as he would perform the stepwise solution of algebra, linear and quadratic equations as well as trigonometry. Directly from the fountain head it would flow like a river like and fill the storehouse- the mind of his pupil as steadily as water fills up the tank. Mathematics is the subject without humor. It involves the highest level of thinking, a deep acrobatics in intellect, yet with him it was like a discovery, a thrill of mounting the challenge with ease and concentration of attention that one would virtually celebrate the equations and geometry of this highly objective science like piece of art and work of literature. Inviting more horror than confidence in most learners it remains a nightmarish subject with young learners but with the kind of art and skill he brought in it. It was a kind of a calk walk with us. Surprisingly it became the apple of one’s eyes in the class where he taught.
Reflecting over it from the vintage point of my own experience as teacher, I had hunted for this fountain head of delight and the synergy he brought to his class. I could guess, only love has the power to create such beauty and impact. Of course, he was our love and vice versa. For his presence in school gave us the “secret sacred rejoice” unlike the childish tomfoolery of throwing the graveyard soil under the seat or feet of the teacher to doze him into a sleep that would ensure we got rid of the fiery angry school master.
And all those whom he taught and to whom he was a colleague would be in eye to eye with me as Mr Showkat ud Din shah. The man, who taught Mathematics almost for three decades before getting promoted to a different level of responsibility, has been an outstanding man of commitment who inspired love and unprecedented human bondage with all and carved a richest niche in the department of school education. He may have remained an unsung hero with the top brass in the department, his Commissioner or Director must not know his indelible contribution and the sweet pleasure of his presence in the department, yet he has been and would be the great hero of our hearts and his replacement would be a far cry, simply because he is a born teacher, a sort of a perfect architect who knows and appreciates the value of his art.
He offered his love and house to me when I was in twelfth class because he loved my time. I had to travel a long distance to get to my tuition and traffic during those days was thin. He lived in the town and staying with him could save my time. Not only was it the best house with the finest care but there was sacredness all around that taught me the purpose of life for instance, a life lived for others and bliss of creating conditions of happiness for others. His generosity is a permanent feeling with me. One day I asked him to leave for my home because I needed some money to buy the chemistry text. He didn’t allow me and on his return from his duty he had purchased one for me. In an age of extreme detachment and self aggrandizement, such a care is phenomenal and unique. He knew what he was doing and I wasn’t the only one whom he offered the bliss of his home.
He has the sweetness of honey in him. He speaks soft but always lofty ideas because he has the elevation of Gibraltar in his character. Yet there is a law for all. Things run their course. This legend is to retire this month. He would complete his wonderful innings and a new phase of his engagement is waiting for him. He would continue to inspire us. Like a great teacher, he had been a great contributor who made life smooth for others. To him, I would say, I am sorry I didn’t become an IAS or KAS as he wished in your letter way back in the year 1999, but I tried to imitate him because I discovered delight in his steps. He has truly lived in me and any tribute would fall short to describe him. He remained a great invisible contributor in our society.
He would retire but he has won the hearts of many young students to whom he showed a path to righteous and successful life. He created an indestructible impression by his contributions that he kept hidden from public gaze. He didn’t work for optics or for short measures to gain a false public image but he genuinely won human hearts by sincerity and professional honesty. He is a true model for younger professionals. As a teacher, he believes his students as a real power and would work for their welfare. Currently the situation in our institutions is grim and unpromising for students while academics is pushed to the wall and an unhealthy obsequious race for keeping one’s boss in good humor is the methodology for existence and progress. He offers an inspiration that teacher is the greatest silent contributor to society.
Naseer khan is assistant professor at Department of Higher Education.
Disclaimer: Views expressed in this article are the writer’s own.
and ur words have power to transform ‘sartal’ into ‘sunn’.