Don't take the 5th, this 5th

Our teachers are forgotten fungus. When we were too young to either be cynical or confuse purpose with dreams, we simply adored them or hated them or just didn’t get them like the rest of the taller tribe around us.

When we got older, which used to be around 16 some time back but nowadays can be anytime from popping out to uttering your first syllable, we just saw them as a congealed mass of phytoplankton. Anachronistic losers with dead end plans whose sole motivation to not blow their own brains out was the realisation that they don’t have any to blow. We rebelled like silly snails, slow on the uptake and hidden inside the shell of our adolescence.

And, when we got wiser, when we realised what prized klutzes we have been, what phenomenally asinine gracelessness we have displayed in the impetuosity of our pube lubed youth, what did we do to our teachers? For our teachers? We did nothing. We stayed silent. We stayed anonymous. We stayed apathetic. And, we kept living our lives and learning our lessons and going on doing what we do best – apply all we have learned to stay afloat.

Today, of all days, let's take a silent vow to not take the fifth. To not remain silent. To not let the everyday wash over the momentous. To name the names of the astronauts that helped plot our stars. September 5th can be saved from turning septic. I am trying here for myself:

Life: Dr (Mrs) Papia Basu Ray

Wonderland: KG1 and KG2
June aunty
Indrani aunty
Kumkum aunty

St. Xavier’s: Class 1 to Class 10
1A: Miss. CM D’souza
2D: Miss. E D’souza
3C: Miss. Anita D’souza
4B: Miss. Sarita Singh
5D: Miss. Anjana Ghosh
6B: Miss. Greta Bose
7B: Sir. John Kalloor
8B: Sir. Desmond Redden
9E: Miss. Sudeshna Sengupta
10E: Miss. Sudeshna Sengupta

I have been brought up mostly by women. All teachers.