Duet of One

Walking into a dream It came on  many nights like a scene from a Kafka novel. There was the vision of a cement grill above a doorway. It seemed to hold back a dark spirit. wanting to be liberated . IWas there a talisman there?  I dare not look there for who knows what lurked in the kitchen and beyond The dreamer always froze with fear and awoke. It was the ancestral home of my father in Edayar street, Coimbatore.  The other desire was  latent but deeply embedded in the sub consciousness and made its presence felt during my waking moments I wanted to walk the street of the East Lokamanya Street in RS Puram , the home of my mother. The old walls,painted yellow the green windows with four doors were clearly visible. The musty smelling attic where coconuts were stored and a large hall with a valve radio, of the 1960s, playing Tamil film songs from  Radio Ceylon. The pink bougainvillea in the front compound and the Kolam drawn by my grandmother just ou...

I taught these kids for two years: They were in the 7th grade when I began work at the Municipal School in Kanjur Marg, Mumbai. .It was the month of July, 2013. I was the Teach For India Fellow come to teach them.  Thus far they had seen only twenty-something Bhaiyyas and Didis. This one was a grey haired bozo of fifty five. I did a grand corporate style presentation on Malala  on my first day in class. They lapped it up. I was proud of what I did. that day. The days that followed brought home the challenges. It was no easy task getting 42 kids to work with me . Many missteps and heart burns followed. And then I regained my foothold. I taught Social Studies and English Language Arts. I learnt too. I remember that I was asked to take charge of a dark dungeon that was a "changing room " for the housekeeping staff. A clothesline was strung diagonally across with an assortment of trousers , shirts and towels hanging on it.  There were no benches. So the kids  squatte...