Paporee Baruah Ma'm...

It’s not that she ensured that I had a great start in academics. She somehow knew that I was not handicapped in my studies; it was only that my concentration and efforts were not channelized in the right direction. She transported out whatever haphazard aptitudes I had and honed it so that they were arranged to yield the finest results. I do not know if she fits into the definition of the type of teacher that says that a good teacher is like a candle which consumes itself to light the way for others. No, she somehow never fits into this prototype. And the fact was that she was as beautiful as a freshly blossomed white rose. That she dressed impeccably added to her charm. 

She was not tall by average standards, but she carried herself with dignity. She walked straight, conversed with confidence. She looked straight into the eyes when she talked. 

She defended me against my own personal influence. Yes, I owe her this. 

I collected her phone number from a school friend about a year ago, but am yet to give her a call. May be today I will call her.

Paporee Baruah Madam, wish you a wonderful Teacher’s Day. I think of you often Ma’m, and I believe that teaching is not a lost art, but the regard for it is a lost tradition. And you always inspired Ma’m, somehow you still do...