The man was going about his daily business as usual, on his way to have his breakfast, he exits the building in which he stays, holding an ancient suitcase and the latest edition of a leading business daily.Â
Time has taken its toll. The small frame has become frail now; the lines on his skin have become deeper and he has developed a slight stoop. But, needless to say, the man still loves everyone the same way he used to, beaming at every child and talking to every pebble on his way. Walking up the stairs, nearing the library, he sees me. I must say, he looks pleasantly surprised, obviously happy to see his dear mol(daughter, he would call me lovingly) after about 2 years.Â
We spent some time sharing what passed in the last two years, he enquiring about my job, friends and me about his family and health. I think I saw the trace of a few silent tears when he shared his feelings about leaving HG Academy forever. He says he loves the profession and loves his students, and I saw that love in his eyes today.
All I could say to my dear Sreedharan Sir was, â€œwe love you too Sir and you will always be in our prayersâ€
The love, kindness and warmth you shared with us, will always live on forever in our hearts.
PS: This is an old article i wrote some time back, happened to stumble upon it today, hence sharing it here.Â
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Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.