My notebook labels, right up till my tenth
standard, were written out by her.
Neat, clean cursive writing.
I knew the teacher in class was going through
my notebook, just by the writing on the label.
Every year, she would cover my books, text
and note, with smooth brown paper.
She would cover them all, and patiently
write my name, full name, standard, division, roll number, school name and
subject, extremely methodically. Never a squiggle or a scratch!
She knew I held my notebooks with pride.
Hell ya, she knew I held any book with pride.
Later I graduated to covering my own
notebooks, but she was still in charge of the labels.
One year, she wanted to sleep a little
early.
I tossed and turned all night, “Carry books
to class without labels? On my first day?
Oh no!”
I woke up a little earlier than usual (yes,
there was a time when I did do such things), armed with my new blue pen for the
new year in school, I walked in half my sleep towards the dining room.
She was there already, with another blue
pen.
Labelled books in that lovely cursive,
again!
Some things never change. I smiled, knowing
I was worrying uselessly.
Once in college this ritual came to an
abrupt halt! We carried books if we wanted to.
We borrowed them, more often than not.
And we mostly survived on photocopies.
Recently, she wrote out a list of groceries
on a little square of paper for me.
Neat, clean, cursive writing, with just a
hint of shaky.
Brought back so many memories!
Some things should never change.
Thanks Maa.
