Standing by those who stood by us

One sultry afternoon in July last year, I got a call on the intercom from the reception, ‘Sir, Resham Singh, your schoolteacher, wants to see you.’ On the spur of the moment, I couldn’t place him, despite reminiscing the time I had spent in school 45 years ago, but instantly asked the receptionist to allow him in.

My Class X teacher, Sardar Resham Singh, escorted by his son, entered my room in the Chief Minister’s Office, where I worked. I immediately recognised him from his appearance. Known for his saintly bearing, Sardar Resham Singh, who was once mentally agile, fit and always in the forefront of the school’s extra-curricular and sports activities, had grown fragile with age.

I reverentially bowed and touched his feet, and curiously asked, ‘Masterji, how did you come to know that I am posted here?’ He replied, ‘One of your classmates told me that you are a senior officer in the Punjab Government.’ After offering him tea, I enquired about his family. He got emotional and said he had lost his wife to Covid; he was suffering from cancer and was under treatment at the PGI.

Expressing heartfelt sympathies, I enquired if I could be of any assistance. He did have a problem. Post retirement, he had settled at his ancestral house in Anandpur Sahib while his daughter-in-law, a government schoolteacher, was posted in a border village of Ferozepur which was far away. He wanted her to be posted nearby so that she could also look after her kids as well as take care of him. Moved by his condition, I took an application from him and requested the officer concerned to consider her case on priority. She was posted in a neighbouring village school against a vacant post.

Going down memory lane, an incident is etched in my mind. Sardar Resham Singh once caught me and my classmate coming out of a cinema hall in school uniform. He chased us on his bicycle. Both of us immediately stopped when we saw him approaching. With bags drooping over our shoulders, he asked, ‘Today you have skipped your classes, tomorrow you will again dare to not attend school. Who are you betraying, your parents or teachers?’ He advised us to search our conscience for an answer.

I consider myself fortunate that I was able to do my bit for a revered teacher — who was instrumental in inspiring and shaping us — nearly four decades after leaving school.