BANERJEE SIR

Anyone walking on the second floor corridor would have easily guessed, Banerjee sir was teaching the year 7 students.

During Banerjee sir's class, not only the students of his class, but the neighbouring divisions, and even the desks, benches, the blackboard and the duster became alive!

He was the physical training teacher, drawing teacher, drama teacher; and yet his passion was history.

He never surrounded history with the cobwebs of treaties, timelines and a list of causative factors.

His  history was as alive as him in the classroom.

" We took to the streets and joined the march.  At Sabarmati we had only 75 volunteers,  but by the time we reached Dandi there were thousand fearless men, women and children who had joined our ranks. On that sundrenched day in April, we made our own salt from the sea. They beat us with batons, pushed us to the grounds,  our heads and bodies were battered,  but our soul stood strong. Neither did we flinch, nor did we dither. 

The skies echoed with our war cry, ' Vande maataram!!.  Bharat mata ki jai '!!

His battle cry was so loud that it could be heard by Sister Miguela  in her office on the floor below.  

When she would take her daily school rounds,  we would warn Banerjee sir,  "M is on the prowl !"

We all liked to call her 'M', like the same forceful character from Bond movies.

On our cue, Banerjee sir would quickly change his tone.

" We have a lot of portion to cover this semester on the first world war.  Praveen read out the causes that led to that war".

But in truth, Sir never taught from any text books.

Yet 

We knew the years of treaties

We understood what the salt satyagraha was for,

Our eyes could see the Gwalior fort from where Rani Laxmibai defended her city against the British forces. 

Few years ago, when we visited Gwalior, my memories of Rani Laxmibai were of Banerjee Sir and his foot ruler.

"She jumped over the fort walls with young Damodar tied to her back shouting ,' Meri Jhaansi nahi doongi '!.

Saying this, he had jumped from his table with his outstretched hand holding the foot ruler and Abhay's backpack mimicked  young Damodar attached to him..

A generous smile always adorned that round face, which was always clean shaven and sported Gandhi style round glasses.

A white half sleeve shirt, a grey loose trousers and  beige sandals  which he would  always leave outside the classroom. 

"This is a Vidya Mandir.  There is no room for footwear inside here". He would explain.

The 5 feet 1 inch man, however, always carried a foot long wooden ruler.

It was like an extension of his right hand.

The ruler nevertheless had a special task.

He would walk to and fro during his lesson across the width of the room.

His calves were always itchy.

The ruler would be stretched down trying to find that itchy spot on the back of his calf. And when it found that spot, he would stop walking,  

That is when we would realise,  bulls eye! The ruler had targeted the itch!

His foot ruler had demonstrated:

How,

General Dyer's soldiers had shot at the hapless Folk trying to escape the Jaalian waala Baag,

How,

Mangal Pandey wounded the sergeant Major with his sword,

How, 

Jawaharlal Nehru had housed the Tirangaa on Red fort.

Yet no one had witnessed any beating from that ruler at the hands of Banerjee sir. 

In truth, no one had seen him in an angry mood.

If he was ever displeased,  he would walk over to the student and speak in 

Bengali,  " Arre  this is Moron dasha, nyaka!"

Once,  I remember,  I had given back a blank paper in my history test. I was never the sharpest tool in the box and my percentages always hovered around the 20 -25 % marks. 

Banerjee sir distributed the rest of the class's answer paper and then came smiling towards me.

"Tor maathaye haagoo bora? ? 

Tumi Manush na, bandorer beech! !"😡

My bengali was worse than my history, so the insults of haagoo and bandorer were beyond my comprehension.😫

" Next time, if you dont know the topic, at least scribble

' Jana Gana  Mana Adhinaayak jaya hey' on the paper,  so I can pass you. "

After that day, he would sit with me every Thursday after school for an hour to ensure I caught up with the rest of the students. 

And this extra teaching was free.

For failing in history was an insult to his teaching...

The 1982 year school gathering is well etched in our hearts.

We enacted the Indian mutiny.

" Khudiram Bose, was only a few more years older than you. But he lobbed the first bomb against the East India company." saying this,  he had lobbed a stone up in the sky from the open air podium, which broke through 'M's office window!

On the day of gathering, he was unstoppable. He orchestrated the entire show. Galvanised the troops. One act after other. 

Unfortunately,  one of the boys  who was supposed to act as a horse had fallen ill.

So , he wore the red bright shawl on his back and crawled on all fours.

9 year young Kazi was sat on his back shouting, "Angrez , chale jaao! "

When Daniel took over stage as Netaji Subash Chandra Bose, 

he had a stage fright and forgot his lines.

"Le halua!

Aamake rakta do..

Tum muje khoon do!! "

The audience was smiling when they heard these prompting lines from the four Iegged horse with red shawl !

The applause at the end was deafening. 

All the performers, the students, the teachers and  parents were clapping and whistling.

No one noticed it at first. 

But then someone pointed out. 

A red horse lay on its side. It's feet sticking out of the red shawl covering it's back. 

It was quiet befitting.

For someone who always lived in history, his end too was on his battlefield.

Last year

I had the fortune of visiting my school.after 30 odd years.

Walking along the second floor corridor, Banerjee sir's voice rang in 

my ears.

"Chandrashekhar Azad was cornered. 

Yet he covered Sukhdev's escape. 

And took down 3 policemen before laying down his life.

'Ab bhi jiska khoon na khola

Khoon nahi woh paani hai 

Jo desh ke kaam na aaye 

Wo bekaar jawaani hai!'....