My Teachers
I look back on the teachers who shaped me—not only through what they taught, but through encouragement, discipline, personality and the confidence they gave me at different stages of my life.
I look back on the teachers who shaped me—not only through what they taught, but through encouragement, discipline, personality and the confidence they gave me at different stages of my life.
When I think of food at home, I remember my grandmother’s fiery curries and my aunt’s cooking. Those flavours became part of family itself, and stayed with me especially during my years away at boarding school.
I remember the long train journeys between Nellore and Anand—the unknown stations, passing landscapes and the strange excitement of imagining where every road beyond the window might lead.
I remember how a meal from home, or an occasional Andhra lunch in Madras, could suddenly reconnect me to my roots. Perhaps food tasted different because affection was as important as flavour.
I remember Mona Madam as a cheerful, generous teacher who loved children instinctively. To me, she was never merely a teacher; she showed how naturally learning and affection could belong together.
Who was she? This struck me repeatedly. She was young and in the full bloom of her youth. She didn’t seem to be clever. Though she was not over thirty, she appeared to be over forty. She had dry, ragged hair, an unkempt appearance, and seemed to want hygiene and cleanliness. She seemed to have…
I’m not a painter. I only have words and phrases to paint the beauty of summer. What if we have rains in summer? Some time ago it did happen and I could not let the moment go without attempting a portrait of it. Summer has set in. With the onset of summer there is a…
I was walking down the pathway in the park.I felt I was walking on the mountain green. I had a vision of Wordsworth climbing the hills and meadows with his lamb by his side. It was indeed an overwhelming feeling. I still feel so. But as I left the park and started to reach home,…
In the film Ben-Hur Judah Ben-Hur who is on a torture trip along with the other prisoners and criminals is denied water. As he pleads “Oh God” Christ comes with a pitcher of water, washes his face and gives him more water to drink. The guard notices this and says, “I said-no water for him.”…
At India’s southern edge, sea, memory, faith and travel merge as Krishna Mohan moves through Kanniyakumari and Trivandrum, searching for what makes a place stay with us.