Guest Column | From math guru to rickshaw rockstar

With a calm demeanour, he would pose an incredibly simple mathematical question to the child, something so basic that the answer would come instantly; once the child responded correctly, he would turn to the parents with a knowing smile and say, “Who says your child is good for nothing? Look how smart he is!”

Twenty-seven years ago, when my parents received a marriage proposal for me, they, like any concerned parents, decided to learn more about the boy’s family. The prospective groom’s father was a professor of mechanical engineering at Thapar Engineering College, Patiala. Naturally, my parents turned to my cousin, who had recently graduated from the institute, for insights. His response was simple yet profound: “Thapar College wich saare Sethi Sir nu ‘Rabb’ kehnde ne,” (At Thapar College, everyone reverently calls Sethi Sir “God”).

I had the privilege of witnessing countless moments that showcased my father-in-law’s extraordinary magnanimity as a teacher. (Shutterstock)

Last month, unfortunately, we lost my father-in-law to a brain tumour. In the days since, messages and calls from his former students have poured in, each echoing that same sentiment.

They remember him as a brilliant teacher who made even the most complex concepts feel simple, a mentor who never berated a student or labelled anyone as dull. His classroom was a space of learning and encouragement. But what truly stood out was his unwavering fairness and generosity - especially when it came to internal assessment marks. If a student ever felt dissatisfied with their marks, he would calmly ask, “Why do you think you deserve more?” If the student could present a convincing answer, he would readily increase their score, no questions asked.

Whenever parents came to him with concerns about their child’s academic performance, often labelling their child as “nalayak” or good for nothing, he had a unique way of handling the situation. Instead of admonishing the child, he would gently turn the tables on the parents.

With a calm demeanour, he would pose an incredibly simple mathematical question to the child, something so basic that the answer would come instantly. Once the child responded correctly, he would turn to the parents with a knowing smile and say, “Who says your child is good for nothing? Look how smart he is!”

It was a small yet profoundly impactful gesture that not only uplifted the child but also made the parents rethink their harsh judgments. His belief in every student’s potential was unwavering, and his ability to instil confidence in even the most disheartened young minds was nothing short of remarkable.

One of his friends fondly recalls a day from their matriculation exams that perfectly captures the essence of his generosity and kindness. “Before the exam,” his friend reminisces, “Bishamber went around asking every boy if they had any doubts, and he would patiently solve the problems for them, easing their anxiety.”

Then came the day when the matriculation results were announced. Bishamber was declared the topper of the entire undivided Punjab, an achievement that was celebrated by the community in the most heartfelt way. “He was paraded around Ambala City in a rickshaw,” his friends remember, “with a garland of currency notes draped around his neck.”

These stories, shared with such fondness and respect, reaffirm what I have known all along: my father-in-law was not just a teacher; he was a guiding light in the lives of so many, and his legacy will live on in their hearts.

sonrok15@gmail.com

(The writer is an associate professor at SD College, Ambala Cantt)