Mrs Mathew

Tiger Tiger Burning bright,
In the forest of the night,
What fearful hand or eye,
created thy Fearful symmetry

I watched mesmerized, as Mrs. Mathew read out the verse. Her voice resonated, her intonation was somber and her expression grave. But her eyes seemed fiery, almost reflecting a zealous intensity. An English Literature period; that took place 21 years ago, but I have since recalled it many a time. Each time the memory is crystal clear and sharp as a razor. Just minutes before she had recited the poem, she had addressed the class in her inimitable sing song ( it wasn’t lilting..) but authoritative tone urging us to understand that the poem was not about the Tiger but its creator, its maker. She exalted William Blake’s probable reverence in writing such a powerful tribute to The Almighty. Like many of the girls in class, she had my full hearted attention for all her English literature classes. She had been teaching us for 2 years now and it was a honour to be taught Shakespeare and Panorama poems by her.

Mrs. Mathew, my school principal, of St Mary’s School, Pune ( SMS-School of Million Snobs, and we obviously proudly bore that title) was 5 ft 4 inches but like all authoritative figures who earns and commands respect, she seemed much taller; especially to a bunch of school going girls, who unknowingly sought a role model but refused to accept her as one. She ruled the school with an iron hand and the sight of her walking to her office from her on campus residence still makes me want to, first, disappear OR if there was no escape- stand ramrod straight. She caught me once- banging on the chapel piano and good girl Bhavna, faced, public humiliation for the first time in her life. I mean, what is worse than your name being announced in the School assembly, for BAD behaviour. The teachers were closely watched and each passing batch was meticulously primed for the ICSE exams. The school gained an unholy reputation of being very academic focused but still we had star players in some sport, elocution or debate competition. She expanded the school from a small prestigious British sister led academy into a large, high quality and reputable institution. She was feared by student and teacher alike, but the teenaged girls loved to hate her. Commenting furtively on her sarees, her lack of another life beyond St Mary’s, her obsession to keep us away from, ahem, boys. (You couldn’t doubt her administration, EVER)

It won’t surprise me if many others claim that their school principals were similar. But Mrs Mathew stood out because she loved teaching English Literature. Indoctrining her students to love and revere the power of expression, the power of words, the imagination of a writer, a poet. She stood out because she taught many of us the importance of discipline and hard work. She stood out because she would never accept less than the best. She was fanatic about it and disdained any people who were less than ordinary.

I met Mrs. Mathew 3 years ago, just before my 2nd child was born. She had been suffering from acute arthritis and had recently been diagnosed with cancer. It was an Old School Girls reunion. She had been associated with St Mary’s for more than 30 years now. It was her life, her passion, her everything. And in the large auditorium we chatted: some awkwardly trying to place each other and some whose friendship had withstood the passage of time, it wasn’t unusual to see a mother daughter, both ex students of St Mary’s. And then she entered.

I’m not sure what I was expecting when she made her entry. I thought we would all revert to our put on masks, clap politely and then move on with our business. I still cant forgive myself for being so petty at that point of time.
I didn’t know that I would stand up and look at her. And be filled with grateful thanks. For having a great hand in making me the woman I am. And making me proud of what I stood for. And developing in me a sense of passion about everything I do. For inculcating a need to make a niche for myself wherever I went. For being able to do make that a reality. For being a role model Leader. For wanting to emulate her behaviours in all aspects of life. For being finely turned out. I suspect each woman in that room- be it a Dr, journalist, a veterinarian, a chef, a professional, a housewife, 60 year old or 20 years old ..stood just a little taller than the rest of the crowd anywhere. And I didn’t know that my palms would become sore because I couldn’t stop clapping…and I didn’t even know that I was a part of the reverberating applause. And that I wouldn’t ever have words to describe the adulation in the room. And that she would be overwhelmed but still meet each one of us. And while she couldn’t make conversation with each one of us , I know she recognized me when I went to meet her.

Mrs. Mathew passed away yesterday and I didnt know that I would shed tears for her. But today, each girl, now woman, of St Mary’s School Pune, will be just a little sadder. But our voices ring today in song for a school so fine and true. And more importantly for the woman who selflessly devoted herself to a calling in a way that many of us still aspire to be but cant. I do hope that St. Mary’s traditions’ continue the way they always did but it will NEVER be the same.

Come now girls, get up ....It has indeed been a privilege to be led and taught by her.