Tonight

The night opened its fist in my arms

Somehow the moon never made its way…

For some reason…it hurt

I’m home after two years. My room is mine again…or so I would like to believe. I open the cupboard that my Mom used to call ‘the pandora’s box’.  I feel for my treasures. I don’t find them. They have been stacked somewhere behind things that are more important.

I dig in. Stacks of old paintings and papers greet me- lifeless.

For some reason it hurt.

A Tribute

It’s the eyes that come first to mind when I think of Manveen ma’m-
dark, big, always kohl-laden. In my 15 years of being a student at
Spring Dales, it was those eyes that I was afraid of when I had messed
up with something, yet it was the same pair of eyes that instilled
confidence in me every time I represented the school somewhere.

As a student I took part in many activities inside and outside the
school. Every time she would sit beside and make sure the preparation
was up to the mark. Once satisfied with my work, she would show me
that better was possible. There are no limits to human competence, she
taught me. Again, those big eyes knew how to dream bigger than one’s
vision.

As the school grew during that time, I grew with it…and also my
understanding of what all is achievable- “Everything!” I can still
hear her voice that often spoke through her eyes.

After passing out from school it was those eyes that I recalled every
time I had a tough task. For me she has been the greatest inspiration
and idol, and I know that I have been lucky enough to have shared some
space with her. I knew that in my 15 years at school she had given me
a part of her strength, humility, wisdom. So in rough times, I closed
my eyes, only to find hers open in me…that’s how she will always be
alive in me. And I know that now she needs me, and each Spring Dalean,
to carry her mission forward.

And Ma’m, I am here- back to the place I felt more at home. The place
that made me what I am today, and whatever I will be in future.

Manveen Ma’m and Shivinder Sir will be looking over each one of us
from heaven- guiding us, blessing us, strengthening us.

She called for me when the school celebrated its silver jubilee. She
was so happy to know that I was quite close to being a journalist- a
lifelong dream. A year down the line, I met her as one when she came
to Panjab University, Chandigarh for a conference. “This is one of the
best students we’ve had,” she said introducing me to her friend. No
moment has been more fulfilling, to have my inspiration say that about
me. She told me that she still missed my writings, we joked that I can
write a book on her.
And even before I could reach for the pen and paper, He reached for you.

It felt as if the first mark on paper was a full stop.

But, dear Ma’m, here is a promise that the script that you began will
be continued.

Love,
Navdeep Sandhu