In Search of a Definition

In Search of a Definition
(A memoir)

“So you think you are good on your own. You can do whatever you like. You need not to bother about what is good or bad, and that’s why you need not to hear or fear or respect anybody either. “Right?” I asked Rivu. He was listening to me for some time and remained silent. Yes, I was looking for an answer. Because anything that he would say might give me some ideas of his psychological landscape. That’s what I was up to. I wanted to know him more. At that moment, I didn’t act like an authoritarian. I do not like getting anything from anybody by force. But he took it as if I was interrogating him. Who cares! He showed off his teeth, such a confident criminal. Batman is Rivu’s favorite movie, so that was he trying to be The Joker? His mother was behind him in the kitchen. I heard unnecessary sounds; her mind was not on the dishes or on the kitchen sink, rather on our reading table. Would I be able to make him get on track? Both she and I probably asking the same questing to ourselves.

I was not Batman. He was not my enemy. I am Rivu’s new tutor. He is in class five, getting prepared for his first public exam. A month ago, on that day, I went to his home. I asked him to give me updates on his homework. He told me that he hadn’t done anything. It was not the first day he failed to come up with the homework. So, I had no great problem with that, but there was one thing which made me think about it seriously; he seemed severely irresponsible, unbothered, there was no sign of guilt or asking-for-forgiveness or something like that. His eyes were cold as a reptile. Regarding this fact, in the inside, I was agitated like hell but I kept my cool.

At the very beginning, I thought this was going to be an easy tuition. He was performing well also. Well, that’s what I thought. But, things were beginning to change drastically. I realized that he lied about most of his previous homework, those I didn’t check or couldn’t check. All on a sudden, he became that traditional bad student with all the negative features: he became a remiss with all his hokey-pokey, a liar with an innocent smile, a deaf who is forgetful and an undisciplined jackanapes who considered himself a thinker. When he first told me that he thinks a lot, I remembered my adolescent time. I was the one who told him that he is a thinker. Did I handover him a weapon? He couldn’t do his works, because he thinks a lot. He has the biggest industry of thoughts. Soon after, thinking of this turned me as a statute; it became a sculpture: ‘The Thinker’ of famous sculptor Auguste Rodin.

I am that teacher who thinks- ‘There are no bad students, only bad teachers.’ We all know what this literally means. But, it also means pain in the ass, to the teachers. And, I know: no pain, no gain. Rivu insulted me on many occasions, in many ways. Those were not my pain. I did not take them personally. I always knew I had to hold my ground tightly to make him change his. I tried and tried, then realized it would not be so easy. Soon afterward, Rivu turned as the ‘Vamana Avatar’ of Hindu mythology who in course of incidents- needed more ground. The Asura king Bali; who acquired disproportioned power over the universe, failed to give the Vamana enough space. He thought that wouldn’t be a matter. Then the Avatar did not stop turn big. Bali had to put his head under Vamanas foot and reached heaven. I am no king. I am also unmarried. So, I did not want to die. How dare I even think about destroying Rivu’s ground? Please, don’t think I’m bluffing, Rivu literally means ‘God.’

So, I was searching for a Daisy Cutter to bombard the base of Rivu’s fort of confidence. I chose it wisely because the same Bomb worked for me once. It was a question. The simplest that one would want to answer. I asked him, “What is Yog?” He could not get it, probably you readers aren’t either, so he asked, “What?” Then I restated the question, “What is the definition of Addition or Plus?” In response, he uncovered his teeth. It looks nice when he smiles. Was that his answer? No. I knew the meaning of that smile. It was an act of insolence. It means: what a silly question? When the cocky and arrogant king Shishupal was insulting lord Krishna by calling him names, he was smiling the same way. Sixteen years ago, when I was asked the same question- “Jog kake bole?” there was a hint of a smile appeared in my spirit too. Instead of this smile of we-trio’s, there is another thing common in between us; for all three of us the end was unexpected. Shishupal was killed as an ultimate punishment by Krishna. Because Krishna was destined to kill Shishupal when he would commit one hundred and one mistakes against Krishna. On the other hand, though our confidence burst out, none of me and Rivu could come up with a correct answer. We both were good at mathematics, especially at Addition of course; nevertheless, we did not know its definition. Nobody taught us. Our teachers only taught us how to solve problems, but they did not tell us the story or meaning of Addition.

Rivu’s mother was sneaking around, his Dadu- the grandfather was also listening from the sofa. He knew what will happen. He is a retired Head Master of a school. Rivu’s first try was like this: If we add two numbers to find… He could not finish the sentence. He is smart enough to get that it was not a proper start. He was describing the outcome of addition, not its definition. And Boom! His smile disappeared. Dadu shouted out loud. “Gadha!” And, That was my best chance. I could have laughed at Rivu like Dushasan, who was trying to undress Draupadi in Mahabharat. But, I didn’t. He was Rivu after all, who ironically reminds me of myself to some extent.

“So Rivu, where are your big words? You see, young man, you do not know everything, and neither do I. Because we can’t. So, what should we do? Be arrogant all the time even if we know almost nothing? Or, should we give study proper respect by working hard and learn new things one after another?”
“I am Sorry” he replied. His mother laughed. At the end of that day’s lesson, I told him there would be no regular homework for the following day, only one thing he would do, it was to find the definition.

That incident forced me to revisit my past. Sixteen years ago, I was in class Eight. I just had a brilliant result. All the teachers were talking about me. My father was also a teacher at that school. He was also very proud. The news went to my village, and in course of circumstances, I also paid a visit with my mother. I was supposed to meet all the relatives, at least the elders to get their blessings. Everyone was nice to me. My mother was happy.

Then I met Haran Golder, the cousin of my grandfather. He was an octogenarian at that time. He was using a stick to stand on the ground and to move, his backbone had enough. I saw a living skeleton covered with pale dark wrinkled skin walking slowly. He was in his old Dhoti. We heard that the condition of his eyes and ears were also the same. My mother greeted him affectionately. He raised his head, “Who, Urmila?” “Yes, kaka… My middle son Hira is also with me. Here he is. Can you see him?”- My mother asked loudly. “He is all grown up.” – He said. His body was shaking rhythmically. “Yes, he’ll be in class nine next year. He’ll study science.” My mother put her right hand over my shoulder, I felt shy. She continued, “Hira has done very well in this year’s final exam.” He looked at me closely, “Is it the matter? Very well, would you able to answer one of my questions? ” – He asked.

My mother was there for me. On that day, I realized many things for the first time. I was questioning the schooling that I had in my school. I was questioning myself, was I too pleased with my achievement? I was agitated over myself, but my mother was there for me. She knew what could happen when two generations meet. She saw day and night, the hard work I put for getting that result. She knew all about me. So, she wasn’t sad thinking I could have given a proper answer to his question; instead, she was pleased that we had the chance to see him. He was sick at that time. That was the last time I saw him.

My mother always said, “Study well son, you can be a great man. That’s all I wish.” Over the last sixteen years, I’ve found the definition of ‘Addition’ and its numerous meanings. When I turned eighteen I did not realize that it means intercourse. I had found another meaning of it, another definition from ‘Yoga’ which means union; I found its meaning in the idea of achieving ‘Moksha’ or ‘The liberation of the soul’. Consequently, on point of my life, I confronted Lalon, and learned that the rules of addition can be changed unbelievably. When he was alive- he was also looking and searching for an answer to the same question, -Jog kake bole? He cried, “When will I become one, with my other one?” I got bewildered. How could it be even possible: – how one plus one equals to one? So I decided that I’d continue to study Lalon to find more answers and more perspectives.

Rivu answered my question the next day: Addition is a mathematical process of calculating the sum of two or more numbers or things. I was pleased. Every one of his house was happy. He also showed me other previously-undone homework. He was sparkling like a gem. He was the hero of that day. I was so impressed that I was almost on the verge of sharing all my experiences with him, but I resisted myself from doing it. Because I believe, he will get his own definitions.

[The End]

1:00 am
6 September, 2018