Whenever I turn up in your chamber with my truckload of psychic disturbances, you are not a man who dictates things in a few seconds. You’re not a teacher wearing a mask too grim to let me get close. You’re a humble soul. A patient listener. One who understands, and one who’s best at recognising the rock bottom I find myself stuck at more often than not.
The air that surrounds your chamber soothes me both on the inside and on the outside. The moment I step into your chamber, and see you sitting in a chair, it’s as though all my maladies have died, never to take birth again. The moment you speak to me, having listened to me, your words have a healing power.
I recall a grave personal issue I had told you about, and it is not some finished-in-seconds drivel rolling off your lips, but rather you enquire, go into deep thought, and recall the situations you yourself were mired in. You provide me with the best possible solution.
I was a confused human being: always alternating between what I should do and what I should not do. A serious confusion followed by serious depressive tendencies. A ‘yes’ to academics one moment, and a flat-out ‘no’ the next. In both the cases, I was being hysterical. A brat. Yet that had its reasons, and forward you came with a torch in your hand and light struck the spot where there was only dark.
I am freed. From the bondage of ever-oscillating. And the credit goes to none but you.
That’s why I admire you. And that’s why I write this from the bottom of my heart. Your smile and welcoming words have made me re-consider my belief that a teacher is a person to stay away from.
From my psychic pain to everything there’s about me, you’ve solved this flummoxed being of mine.
I wish you-and others like you all the best. Blessings!

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FAIZAAN BASHIR