My father - My teacher

I was second in the class again!

I had miserably failed in getting the highest marks in English in the class, even in the final exam of seventh standard. I was more upset than ever before.

If I think now, there were four reasons for my disappointment.

Reason four: it was the last chance in the primary school to stand first in the class.

Three, I had made some stupid mistakes that had resulted in losing some marks.

Two, I was consistently defeated by my GIRL classmate Swetha! Perhaps, my budding male ego was miserably hurt.

And the reason number one: it was my father who was our English teacher, one who had set the question paper, evaluated our answer scripts and announced the result even at home.

Until many days later, I was unaware that the question paper was framed by my father. He had neither disclosed the question paper to me nor had he told that it was he who had framed the questions.

As a teacher, it was important 'not to show any favouritism' and stick to his professional ethics. As a father, it was important to make me realize, winning is not a number game; what matters is the way we interpret, receive and handle our mistakes and defeats. My father did them both effectively.

My father taught me honesty - the best lesson any father can teach!

Three years later, when I was writing Hindi annual exam of tenth standard, invigilator of the exam hall noticed that I had left answering a multiple choice question. I didn't know the answer. Hence, I hadn't attempted it. She (invigilator) gave a hint on the right answer. I didn't want to defeat my father. I refused to write it. As a result, I stood second in the class in Hindi too. When I shared this, some people called my refusal of right answer as my arrogance and stupidity. Well, if honesty has those synonyms, I am happy to be called stupid and arrogant.

I started realizing being second is the best thing to happen in life. You always have a way to move ahead. You still have a route to explore to reach the first position. If my father had disclosed the questions in the Question Paper that day, I would just find the answers in advance, wrote them in the exam and stayed contented with first position. Since he didn't, I had a chance to frame my own questions and find the answers. I started asking myself 'Why do some letters become silent in English words? Why does English have upper case and lower case letters? Why subject and verb should agree?' I converted my anger on English into exploration and found answers for most of them.

Whenever I compared my shortcomings in life with luxuries of my friends, I remembered my father's childhood stories of struggle and hunger. I felt I was far more fortunate. Whenever my earning and learning falsely boost my ego, I recollect those innumerable salutes my father was getting from the people on the streets when I was accompanying him on evening walks in my childhood. I feel I am no one to be compared. Whenever I buy a costlier gift to my daughter and think I am a great father, I remember the days when my father was taking me to a hotel ordering a 'dosa' only to me and feeling contented hearing my burp. My gifts to my daughter look pale.

No permanent shelter to live under, no big bank balance to feel rich, no wealth of lineage - Well, they don't matter. From my father, I have beautiful memories to cherish, strong confidence to live, strong values to apply throughout life.

A few years ago, a cardiologist, after reviewing my father's angiography test report told me with a smile 'Your father's heart is good'. I told myself 'Well, because my father is good at heart'.

What other reasons do I need to be proud of my father!