A guru who opened his heart & home

Shiv Sethi

FOR some, the guru still holds a place in the heart. The contributions of one of my teachers in the making of my life have been extraordinary. Mr Paul was my English teacher at Bangalore, with all his intellectual bells and whistles. But his erudition did not exude arrogance, neither did it inflate his shrunken chest. One day, while enlightening us about Brutus’ dilemma, Mr Paul rightly saw through my dilemma-ridden mind. After class, he beckoned me with a beatific smile. ‘Meet me in my office. I would like to have a cup of tea with you.’ I was left somewhat intrigued. Soon, I was in his office. Over tea, he initiated a conversation where he politely attempted to know the reason of my pensive demeanour and furrowed forehead. Though I was mute for some time, I candidly told him that due to financial constraints, I was unable to arrange an accommodation in the college hostel or elsewhere in the city. ‘Ok then! I would see you over a cup of tea at my place in the evening with your bag and baggage,’ he said. 

The firmness in his intonation coaxed me to visit his place with a small attaché case containing bare minimum clothes. He was already waiting for me and directly took me to one of the rooms which was spic and span. ‘My boy, this is your own home now and we are your family,’ said his petite wife in her most mellifluous voice. That day on, Mr Paul became a fatherly figure and Julia aunty filled in for my mother. They enthusiastically showed me each corner of the house and I was promptly directed to partake all my meals with my new custodians. 

Over the upcoming year, they kept me like a fledgling under their protective wings. So deep and dense was their affection that the idea of making any payment never occurred to me, even when I was financially somewhat better off. Besides, any such offer would have hurt them. 

After the completion of my course, physical parting with them was painfully inevitable. But it could not part us. Years have glided by; Mr Paul has also taken off his professorial harness. The vivid recollections of all those days spent under their tutelage fill me with nostalgia. 

I am reminded of those antiquated days of gurukuls where disciples would live in close proximity with their preceptor. Mr Paul converted his house into a gurukul for me, in an age in which the hallowed guru-shishya concept has lost its sheen. Certainly, teachers like him are very hard to find in this age of rank materialism.