Learning, a ceaseless process, a phenomenon on which the law
of our existence cycles, an unending event, which irrespective of our want or
not, is a part of us till our last breath. We learn to cry, to laugh to, to
hurt others or spread smiles, to accept fidelity or be corrupt, to be positive
or pessimist, to win over the world or
be lackadaisical. Lessons are taught everyday but it is upto us what morals we
draw from them. When learning comes Loreto Convent, my school, is an inevitable
part to mention. Whatever I am I am because of this institution and if I
studied in this Institution then it is because of my mother. However, coming
back to learning i remember that thrice a week we used to have Moral Science
classes which were taken by the nuns in my school. Moral plays, moral stories,
moral talks etc, everything was quite moral about those lessons. One day Sister
Celine took our class. She was an Irish lady and we admired her for the
effortless grace, the impeccable eloquence, her refined gait and of course her
commendable accent. That one class that she took had a profound impact on me.
Literally we learnt grammar but sensitively we learnt sensibility. We learnt by
discussing differences between simple words. She held us a painting of a girl,
her back to us and an endless sea ahead. Softly she asked,” what do you see?”
It was simple to answer and satisfied she seemed with our participation. She
held the painting again and opined,” And what do you ‘observe’?” the stress on
the last word told us something grave. She did not say a word more but everyone
got her implication. Here came plethora of ‘observations’ and not just ‘what we
saw’. We observed the insatiability of belongingness
of the girl, we observed her poignant watch towards the ocean, we observed her
patient yearning for someone, we certainly learnt about that picture that never
taught us by just seeing it. We learnt a lesson of a lifetime. Then to us were
distributed birds’ feathers. She intently asked again, “So, my girls, what do
you touch?” enthusiastically we came with expected answers. Then the question,
“ And , my children, what do you sense?” We were now getting the game. We now
understood what our teacher was actually teaching us. We sensed the gentleness
of God, we sensed the smoothness of bliss, we sensed tranquillity of divinity, and
we had now learnt the art of sensing. Eagerly we waited for our next lesson. A
pin drop silence was maintained in the class. Audible were just the traffic on
the road or mild cacophony of a distant class, or staggering of steps but amidst
all this we learnt our lesson. We had to ‘listen’ and not just ‘hear’. We
closed our eyes and listened to something which we had never heard or infact
never endeavoured to hear. We heard the rustle of the leaves, the singing of
sparrows, the raindrops on roses, the anxious movement of a squirrel, the
innocent laughter of a toddler. We listened. We listened intently. These were
the lessons of a lifetime.
Ten years down the line, I learnt the significance of these
priceless lessons. I was working in The American Centre for Languages as an
English trainer. Amazing was the fact that i got to tutor students who were
twice my age and way more experienced. Glad to learn from them and gladder was
I to impart some of my knowledge. Once while having a group discussion I
observed the restlessness of one of my students, which had been since a long
time. She was a 58 year old woman, principal of Hindi medium school and a very
ardent learner of English. I respected her not only because of her age but the
eagerness she had for this language. I had observed her for long and now it was
irresistible for me to ask the reason for her anxiety. We sat in the isolated
teachers’ parlour. She held my hand. I held back. I sensed that touch. That
touch had an infectious melancholy, there was a search for healing of her inner
wounds, there was an unquenchable thirst within her, that touch, that grip
desired for the unachievable in her life. Without my further interrogations she
confessed something that i had never thought of. She was an unmarried woman who
had accepted spinsterhood to look after her mother. All her siblings were
married and settled out of station. And
now she lived all lone. After the death of her mother, it was the children of
her school that were her life. Her job was not only monetary necessity for her
but it was an emotional satisfaction. Learning English was all for them but now
she was being asked by the managerial committee to resign. She knew that it
would someday happen but never thought that she would be shunned so callously.
Serving after twenty years, she never desired to be asked to leave so abruptly
and only because she was now at retire able age. She was broken but i observed
something hurt her the most. She wanted someone to see her pain, she wanted
someone to share her loss, she wanted someone to console her, to support her
and most importantly someone to listen to her. I knew just listening to her
will lessen her trauma, she will calm down, she will find peace. She struggled
for a couple of days but ultimately she resigned. Those tears perturbed me too.
I wanted to do more than listen to her, or advise her but was unable to figure
out anything. Then one day she disappeared for some time only to be heard after
a week. Glad i was to see her smiling. She came to me, hugged me and told that
her students were eager to come to her for tuitions and incessantly thanked me.
I had tears of jubilation that day. I learnt something most imperative in life.
Just observe those who need you, just sense
their sorrow, just listen to their anxiety and trust me you can make a huge
difference to someone’s life. this does not mean that one has to fetch someone
with grief. Talk to your closest one. Everyone has troubles, some day the
teacher shouts or the boss nags, someday the mother in law scolds someday the
daughter in law disrespects, sometime
the children do not care or sometimes the spouse hurts you, that poignant
ambience around you can be forever dismissed by just sensitising your eyes, your touch and your ears. Observe them. Sense
their feelings. Listen to them. You have the power to heal the world. 