So, that was around two years ago. It doesn’t really ache to write about that now, but there is an unusual feeling which I always have about it. The kind of feeling you have about something which was left unsaid. Something, which you would kill to go in the past and say it, if only it was possible.
That entire city reminds me of some unfinished business. Not because of any kind of vengeance, but just out of the genuine need of something to be done about that place.
The city, in all its splendour and beauty, felt immensely sick to me. The seriousness it radiated was speaking of something horrible going on underneath.
But it’s not about the thousands of students who came there as aspiring IITians.
It’s about the teachers who promised to turn them into ones.
I remember the attitude they carried which always made me wonder that how huge a misconception can one have about himself?
How can one not see people dying, right there in front of his eyes?
Some of them did, and preferred to not do anything about it.
But it wasn’t their fault.
Even I wouldn’t help someone like me then.
There is something that this world does to you, which is very, very bad and probably can’t be described in words.
So yes! I remember the pangs. I remember being sarcastically asked if I consider myself the prime minister of India or if I am getting even a bit of what is taught and why I have the adamant attitude which I have.
So yes, they watched me, studied me, saw me, commented upon me as their duty.
And apparently, what they did not see, or chose not to see were the slashes on my wrist and on my self-esteem. What they did not see was me having a panic attack, after which I could not bring myself to read even simple words of English for hours. What they did not see was how I used to faint in my room due to severe headache and how my face used to ache all the time due to sinus.
What they DID SEE was that
I DID NOT STUDY.
It always came down to just that.
But no one dared to look for its reasons.
Because after all, scolding was easy.
Telling me to study was easy.
Letting me know that it was going to be fine and making me believe it, was a tough job.
And I understand that it was not their responsibility to carry it out.
But neither was it their job to worsen it for me and the others like me.
(And I know that there were many.)
They noticed that I was getting close to a boy and confronted me for it. But they did not notice the huge amount of weight that I had lost during those days.
(One teacher did. The one who in fact did not really know me, never taught me anything, and was no well-wisher of me.
But she noticed.)
So yes, it’s about those teachers.
But not about the ones who came, taught and simply minded their own business.
I have nothing against them.
(Although even they understood sometimes.)
I am talking about the ones, who were all the way, always too sure of themselves and of what they were doing.
The ones who were always concerned about the ‘wellbeing’ of students and therefore, never failed to let me know what an embarrassment I was and how exactly I was wasting my parent’s money.
So yes, it’s about them.
The ones who always said it aloud that they care, but never really cared.