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Writer's pictureAnoop Prathapan

when I met my teacher

Updated: Nov 8, 2022

There was a mathematics teacher who, back in 1997, told one of his best students in pre-degree mathematics, then aspiring to join Medical College, to not go for MBBS, as he had found his level of intelligence and perception, more of technically inclined and mechanically oriented. He felt the boy carried more mathematical precision and logical accuracy that could be more put to use in technology than in medicine. He did not listen; he took up MBBS despite even God hinting the same as his teacher, by giving him better scores for Engineering Entrance Examinations than Medical. On the 5th of November 1998, he started his medical career at Thiruvananthapuram Government Medical College, forfeiting a seat for Electronics and Telecommunication Engineering at CET and the 51st rank at CUSAT.


Little did that eighteen-year-old know what he was plunging into. He became frantic when he realised that he had soared into the abode of selfishness where:-


1. human emotions weigh less than the Cunningham’s Manual,

2. preserving one’s facade for acquiring internal marks is more important for survival than having a normal blood oxygen concentration and

3. one’s academic achievements matter even to sustain certain relationships.


He never knew that he was going to be trapped for the rest of his life in an arena where the English words ‘efficiency’ and ‘independence’ erroneously equates only to academic credentials and where none of his other skills would ever be even noticed, let alone acknowledged. (there is a separate article coming soon, exclusively on this topic) The humane, sensible and that very normal boy found himself an emotional and technical misfit in that phlegmatic, ghastly terra firma.


Twenty-four years later, he still regrets not listening to that only real teacher in his life who had the divine vision and the knack to envision what was the best for him, unlike the jaunty self-christened highbrows, with doltishly ginormous ego, whom he met later in the unconscionably overrated Medical College, who never could weigh him even a tad.


On this teacher’s day, I recall with drops of tears in my eyes, those good times I could spend with the most sensible teacher that I ever had in my life, Prof. Dr. Radhakrishnan Chettiar, the retired Professor and Head of the Department of Mathematics, University College, Thiruvananthapuram. Despite umpteen inimical circs, I could be a reasonable teacher at least to some, only because of the blessings of such noble souls in my life.


Attached is a photograph from yesterday when I called on the ailing septuagenarian at his residence. His daughter Raji, who was my senior by a year, welcomed me and walked me to him. Despite all ailments, he recognized me even after 24 long years: something that could never be expected out of any of the teachers in Medical College.


After almost 30 minutes there, I took a photograph with my teacher and bid bye to him. It was a walk down the memory lane for me, reminiscing the irrecoverable good times.


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