The Teacher Ultimate

The Teacher, Ultimate
(By Reema Bansal)

Plap! Plap! Lying on bed, he banged his hand on the side-table twice more. Though exhausted, I got inspired and resumed dancing. I met Jeesu at his mother’s, that is, my dance teacher’s house. We immediately struck a rapport. His mother proudly informed me that age thirteen, her boy with mental retardation motivated everyone around him. I would have found out though.

I am myself inflicted with a neuropathy that entails weakening of limbs. It makes me feel fatigued, sooner than others. However, I had stubbornly decided to give a solo-dance performance on my college stage. The only person who could prepare me for this performance, was, my high school dance teacher. I approached her to tutor me. It took us sometime to figure out what steps I should learn. She decided upon selected steps from Bharatnatyam. When asked for her payment schedule, she simply said “I’ll let you know that later”.

Classes began. As I’d dance with the support of a table, Jeesu would watch carefully from his bed, passing a lopsided smile. The moment I’d give up, too tired and de-motivated to continue, he would bang the table and make haphazard arm movements. Ma’am told that he was urging me to continue.

At times, sitting beside him, his mother and I chatted and laughed together. This cheered him up without fail. “He loves being surrounded by people and always reflects their emotions”, his father told me. Indeed, the days I‘d feel upset over something, Jeesu would look at me continuously. Those big & wide-open eyes would compel me to smile. Then he would begin shaking his body, making me laugh.

Despite his condition, the little skinny boy has such humane qualities that everyone, from his mother’s friends to convent nuns, students to elders, comes to him for support. What people find difficult to convey even with all their faculties intact, Jeesu manages to express in his own unique ways. I think he takes it from his family itself. All of them almost adopted me; and it felt like home.

“I took to depression when Jeesu got diagnosed”, said his mother one day. She further added, “But slowly I realized that my child is not less beautiful than others, but differently beautiful”.

“He is an angel ma’am”, touched myself, I touched her shoulder.

On the last day, I munched on the idli-saambhar prepared by ma’am and asked about her payment, she said, “I had stopped teaching dance, as Jeesu starts crying whenever he hears dance music. He feels ignored”. I was astounded. “But, Reema, he never cried when I taught you. In fact, it made him happy. I think he found a meaning in his life.”

Tears in my eyes, I looked at my angel. He smiled, lopsided. My real performance had already been made.