Dancing frock and the tinkling smile

She was the last one in the last flock of Swans that flew with their young ones. 

She never left her chicks behind to grew up as ugly ducklings, her white spanning wings always protected them, gave them warmth and a cosy feather bed.   

We would flock around her.

The sleeveless frock in floral patterns and the striped footwear always trigger a smile on our face. 

To the wide opened twinkling eyes that surround her, Laura teacher would smile.

It was the time of Peggy Book and Paul’s Desk Work, the ways we were initiated to the English language. We would find a figure almost the same that of  Peggy’s mother or the Anne in Paul’s Desk Work in her, the same frocks, the same hair do, the same white smile, the madam’s there. Lovingly we would call her Madamma teacher. 

Of course she lived her life like a Madamma, in attitude and attire. But her life we often felt was a mission, a mission to nurse and nurture the little ones. 

I had always found her under that old Jack tree,  where she would wait with the nursery kids either to collect them in the morning or to pack them off  in the school bus, in the evening. I never had the opportunity to sit in her class, because I joined the school at the first standard. I was at the Infant Jesus Nursery School at Pongumoodu, run by the same congregation of the sisters. 

So we were moulded and encouraged to join St.Mary’s for the first standard. 

My first encounter with Laura teacher was at the anniversary of the nursery school,  where I was in the lime light. 

I had to deliver the student speech in English before a large crowd. When I stepped on to the big stage which made me too small like a little star in the sky, and  the big audience in the front who waved like the sea, I looked for a soothing face to smile at me, to over come my stage fear. 

At the front row of the audience were distinguished guests which included the Holy Mar Gregorius, my head mistress a loving woman who later flew to Philadelphia for charity work, a few sisters whom I have never seen before and a very white woman in her frock. 

While the sound man came and adjusted the mike for me pulling it down the stand, I was still searching for someone who could instill the courage in me. Seconds ticked, I couldn’t begin, I thought I would forget the the whole speech. My teachers and my parents were gasping why I could not begin. They were all around me in the stage, but I never dared to look back or around, I kept my attention posture and looked straight.

My thoughts were flying, they flew frantic, all away from the simmering lights, on to the sky losing my way in the darkness, till I found a Swan with a motherly touch, she held me on her wings and flew me down. 

I blinked my eyes for a moment, and I saw her in the front row at the far left. 

A nod of love.

A soothing smile.

I gleamed. 

It gave me the courage to start.

I began….the little speech my father wrote for me.

‘ Respected teachers, distinguished guests and my dear friends.

I’m glad to stand before you..’ 

I did not change my eyes…

They were stuck at the Mother Swan.

She held me throughout my speech.

For a big clap at the end, and too many shake hands and in the crowd of friends that wrapped me around  I lost the Mother Swan.

But at the back of the stage, she was waiting for me.

She held me tight, kissed me on forehead and told me with love 

‘ You must come to St.Mary’s ‘

I smiled and nodded. 

That was Laura teacher. 

She smiles in my memories still, even the forty five monsoons that showered heavily on me could not wash away her tinkling smile from my heart ; the rays of love she dissipated were more intense than the rays of the sun. 

She was our St.Mary, she took us close to her bosom. 

Might be her soul, or the decision of fate, I got that divine opportunity to close her coffin. Sheeba was there, Beevi was there, Kani was there, Annie looked at me with tearful eyes.

We placed a bunch of roses for all of us and silently witnessed her exit from this mundane world to her heavenly abode. 

Thank you teacher.

RIP

Laura Rozario

Born 9-04-1936

Died 9-01-2018