"I am sorry, Mr. Doshi, he hasn't shown much improvement in this term."
"But Sir, the previous term's reports did promise success."
"I am afraid that's not surprising. I believe the coursework is demanding too much from your son. He seems stressed, even the slow is slower for him."
"What do you suggest needs to be done, Sir?"
"As principal of this institute, I suggest you let us move him to another class. These things will be taught there at a much slower pace. Hopefully then, he'll be able to cope up."
"As you say, Sir."
I miss her. Miss Rohini was my favourite teacher. She taught me how to read stories. I love stories. These others; the other students in my class, they like mathematics and science. I hate mathematics and science. It is boring. It is difficult. It is nonsense. What do I like? I like stories. I love stories. And I love poetry. Miss Rohini taught me that too. Songs. She taught me how to sing. She sings beautifully. I try to sing beautifully too, but I can't. Miss Rohini says if I practise, I will sing beautifully someday. I might be a singer in the future. A popular singer, a rockstar. I will be a great artist. No, not that artist who draws and paints. I hate drawing and painting. When I draw something, they tell me it is good. But I know it is not good. They tell that to my parents. I hear them saying that.
No one understands, except Miss Rohini. She is my best friend. But I see her no longer. They have taken her away from me. They make me sit in another class. When I try to go and meet her, they grab me by my arm(It hurts!)and put me back into my class. I now understand she is away from me because of my fault. I have been a bad student for a good teacher like Miss Rohini. They want me to do mathematics and science and drawing and painting. I don't know how to do them. But I will find out!
Miss Rohini told me that I was a climbing a mountain. All the people in my class were climbing mountains. Metaphorical mountains, ofcourse; I know poetry. She would also tell me that I wasn't climbing the mountain alone. She was with me. Climbing alongside me. Sometimes she would go ahead and guide me up. Together we would climb the mountain. To the very top. And when we do reach its peak, we will be happy.
But I have fallen, Miss Rohini. I have fallen. I felt you reaching out to me when I fell. I couldn't hold any longer, I fell. I have fallen. I still hear you scream, your arm outstretched; waiting for me to come and grab it. One day I will; I will rise from where I have fallen. I will climb the mountain for sure. Even if I have to do it alone. Then when I climb, I will meet you on the way. Miss Rohini, if you are reading this, know that I have promised you we will meet. Then we will climb together and reach the peak. Then we will be happy. Happy always.
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