His questions, were his only answers

Jams -  the saying " The older I get, the wiser my father becomes" applies to our dear departed principal or as we called him "princi" as well, for it is only now that we begin to appreciate the depth of the wisdom of this father figure that he was.

At the prayer meet last evening, I felt a deep sense of loss. Today, I am alone at home and so mind raced back to my golden childhood days in which JNS and it's fond memories occupy a huge space with obviously Rasikbhai our principal, being an integral part in it.

In school days I used to be teased by my JVPD Gujju Jam gang; they called me Socrates. It all started after this one incidence in which I questioned one of them on the futility of breaking a branch & then attempting to decide the love-fate by plucking one leaf at a time with alternating recitation of 'she loves me' & 'she loves me not' respectively. 

It is paradoxical, for I had earned my many moments of glory in school days by imitating & poking fun at our very own Socrates; who like the original, was a misunderstood personality - less because he was complex and more because he was simply simple. 

Among Rasikbhai's many behavioral traits, some that instantly & vividly come to my mind are his walking about the school foyers & hall ways like a wondering Buddhist monk by the country side. His hands would be clasped behind his back, his nodding without uttering to acknowledge the passing teachers' or students' greets. The bunking students, never feared him as they did of other suspicious teachers much lower in ranks, for their princi would never stop them in their tracks to inquire about where from they came or where of was their next destination class. 

Rasikbhai just quietly went about observing and taking mental notes. Maybe he was constantly assessing the pulse of the institution on which he sat at the very helm.

Or how about the time when he would be giving a speech, then pause to get an instant approval on his pointed points. He was always correct, he knew well. Hansaben still assured him he was also as right.

His other peculiarity was his habit of regularly pursing his lips shut, pressing them together to reduce them into just a thin line. The next moment we knew, we could accurately predict - he would now pass his neatly four times folded white kerchief over them, which he would remove from his non-fashionable lab coat styled off-white  un-tucked shirt's lower pocket with his right hand. Through all this, the other hand would remain unmoved, his 4 fingers buried in the adjacent lower pocket, only thumb visible. If the left hand fingers ever saw light, it was only momentarily to scratch his head with the nails of his bent fingers, as if he was trying to stir his million greys below his super short hair, to come up with the next set of points to ponder. 

When some of us famed naughty kids were dispatched to the principals' s office & when he would begin to recognize the regulars, much to our amusement and relief, his interrogation was with Qs of a different kind. A dreaded place as so reputed, the princi's office was actually a cake walk for some of us with lesser conscience and an unbearable one for a few with a heart. Princi was a man of equanimous mindset - the art of screaming had bypassed him completely & I bet, so had the science of laughing out loud. 

He was always at peace & the Zen master never gave correct answers nor directly showed the path to reform; he was all about asking the right questions and leaving the child to introspection. He would ask the naughty boys ( girls then had not yet fought their way down below to cross the lowest set bar for decency, what for some reason n is now strangely perceived by many as equality ) in front of him about their family background, which part of India their grandparents came from, what they did for a living - as if to decipher some meaning out of the family history. To our little minds, all this had absolutely nothing to do with the process or even vague connection with our crime for which we were sent to the highest office and merited the presence before a person beyond the foyer supervisor's or headmistress' title and aura. We know only now, he was attempting to make the teenagers realize their own past and somehow assist them to discover & understand the values, the cultural heritage & thoughts that need to be inherited by them by choice, before anything material by chance. 

Having demonstrated their genetic advantage to the kids, he would have hoped that the on-the-cusp adolescent fellows would have left his chamber rejuvenated & basking in positivity and wanting to leverage their legacy for creating a better future citizenship for themselves and very worthy of their family's name and expectation. 

That was about the lucky naughty boys. What about the vast majority of good boys and all the girls- when would they get a piece of his mind? 

Well he was clearly ahead of his times, for not withstanding the ICSE Board's requirements, he had the audacity to carve out a personalized curriculum, that of having a mandatory weekly connect, for 3 whole periods before the short break with all his children - in the main hall.

Here he did not teach any particular subject & yet we all unknowingly would have learned. What he spoke there, it was all from outside of the syllabus but still easy to understand at one level & yet difficult to grasp at another. It was so, not due to the complexity of the subject but rather the easy of it.

For example, in each session he advised us to keep the posture of our body correct by sitting crossed legged on the floor, keeping head up, chin straight, spine erect, hands on the knees, eyes shut and observe our own breathing. That to us obviously meant - ya-ya yipee yipee ya i.e. not doing anything & in line with every kids desire at school - a free period. Here the bonanza was 3 times longer and remarkable become astounding, as it was coming from the big guy himself ! Does he not realize that we are only fooling him? 

But how can even motionless in paradise ever be compatible with the restlessness of the raging teenagers' hormones that were brewing inside us ...and for what? What's the use of all this? Hey, it's a punishment on 2nd thought. 

Some of us facing him still felt obliged & so obeyed only to fight back or embrace sleep, as the case may be. Many pretended with half eyes shut and looked around from the corner of our eyes to check the sanity & status of others around us. Those tall fellows and late-to-school remarked ones in the rear rows would go unnoticed, so they asserted their bravery through disobedience. Some worked hard to get bored while few took the opportunity to partially volunteer and disclose the name of the girl they liked but had not yet gathered the courage to ask her out or even share the secret with their monthly best friend. They hesitantly passed the information, as they wrote the clues about her by pressing their fingers on the back of the person in front of them, asking that person to guess her name - half hoping that the person in the front gets it correctly & half not. If well guessed,  the person in front instantly became the lover boys new found best friend, not withstanding the fact that it's all still one sided with respect to the clue giver's love for her & best friendship bestowed upon him !

Princi was then preparing us to experience meditation, which we all now know, would be needed in stressful times to come. 

The man was a thought leader & he is no more. The best tribute we can offer him is to keep him in our prayers and imbibe in our lives, at least some of his subtle teachings.

There were plenty of people at the prayer meet but I was really disappointed, as there were hardly any students. I was in fact angry but then I realized; the expectations were all only mine, not his. If such emotions are out of respect for my princi, then I would be doing disservice to the very soul I was praying for. 

For I am sure, if I could somehow ask him "Sir, there was a poor show at your funeral - how unfair isn't it?"; I know he would not have replied with a correct answer - no that's not him. Instead,  in his inimitable style, the simpleton would have surely just gently smiled and asked me to ponder "Is there ever anything like a poor birth or a rich funeral for the really concerned?" !

May our princi's soul rest in peace.