Seema Pandey
Seema Pandey is a dedicated and passionate educator with 25 years of experience in teaching English, inspiring young minds, and fostering a love for learning. She is skilled in crafting engaging stories that impart life skills and values. She is trained in developing and conducting effective workshops on soft skills, parenting and interactive English learning methods.
‘Prime Minister Stuti Sharma: LIVE only on Bharat TV’ came the news flash as Suman Mathur was flipping through news channels. Looking at the clock to find that it was already past her afternoon nap time, Ms. Mathur decided to indulge some more in watching the TV, something which would come as a shocker to anyone who knows her and her precision to stick to a routine.
“Stuti, you stand here today – as India’s youngest woman prime minister – an inspiration to lakhs of young girls in the country, who would you say was your constant inspiration through this journey?” The news anchor asked.
It was the first time Stuti Sharma was interacting with the media after taking charge as the Prime Minister of the country.
“Ma’am Mathur.” Stuti didn’t even take a breath before blurting out the name.
“Only a few hours ago, I took charge as the PM, but what you mentioned a few minutes ago about being an inspiration to many young girls is what I find the most thrilling right now,” said Stuti with a visible twinkle in her eye. “If I, who the entire world, including myself believed could not do anything worthwhile with her life, can stand here and address the whole nation, then each one of you girls watching can. Trust that. It all boils down to that – trust. That’s what kept me going.”
“Let me take a few moments of your time to explain what got me here, standing tall among all of you, with nothing but a will to work for the better, not just for myself, but for everyone around me. It was Ms. Suman Mathur. I would have been nothing without her. Not my parents, not my family, not my friends, not life. It was ma’am Mathur who taught me how to be someone.
You see, I did not have a very difficult childhood. My parents put me in a great expensive private school, provided for all of my materialistic needs, and decided that this is where their job ends. I was a very curious, creative kid, and I had 37 ideas to change the world. When I used to go to my mother to share a few, she had kitty parties to attend. When I would go to teachers at my fancy school, they were busy preparing for extra, extra-curricular activities to make their school stand out. The child in me thought that I had this magic wand to change the world but no one to guide me how to wield it. With all this potential, I was just a small child, hungry for attention and care, longing for someone in my house or my massive school corridor to notice me. After years of praying to God for just that, I decided to give up – on studies, grades, education, and myself. Because, it wasn’t like anyone cared anyway. I failed 8th standard and hell broke loose at my house. It was the biggest embarrassment and disappointment for my parents, and they started questioning whether spending so much on my education in this fancy school was even worth it. And in just a month’s time I found myself switching schools and moving to the first least expensive government schools that my parents could think of.
I couldn’t care less. I counted 4 years on my fingers wherein I would need to pretend to study and work until I am done with class 12th after which I can party through life.
Little did I know that my life was about to change.
I entered the class on my first day of the new school, tardy, shabby-looking, and ignorant. Ms. Mathur greeted me at the door, and announced sternly to the class: “There won’t be an English lesson today. Looks like Ms. Sharma had other important things to attend to than coming to class on time.”
I was taken aback. So when I came late, why wasn't she teaching the rest of the class? I thought.
“The fact that all your classmates will be deprived of today’s lesson will teach you accountability, and will make you never repeat this in the future,” she said as I rolled my eyes. But, from that day on, I never went late to class.
Although strict, Ms. Mathur was fun-loving. She was famous in school for being a bad singer. Once at an elocution competition, for which she had pushed me to participate, I was beyond nervous, so much so that I couldn’t set foot on the stage. “I trust you, for both of us. You’ll do great. If you end up making a fool of yourself, I promise you I will follow you on stage and start singing,” she winked. Just the idea of that made me chuckle and I confidently recited the poem and won a prize.
Another time I was choosing subjects and everyone around me told me that ‘Arts’ was the wrong choice. It is what “unintelligent, lazy people choose,” they would say. One conversation with ma’am Mathur and I knew that I was making the right choice and she trusted me, and so I trusted myself.
Four years of schooling, which I thought I would dread, turned out to be the easiest of my life. I didn’t need anyone. Whatever came to me to deal, I went to Ms. Mathur and life would seem simple. While all other teachers did their best to provide whatever knowledge they could, in that not-up-to-the-mark school environment with scarce resources and demotivated teachers, Ms. Mathur saw an opportunity to change the lives of students like me. In the simplest ways which I cannot even fathom to word on stage here, she taught me the ways of life.”
By now, the whole newsroom on TV fell silent. The anchor, the audience, and crores of Indians. So did Ms. Mathur, sitting in front of the television at her house, her eyes welling up.
“Before I conclude I just want to mention something of crucial importance. How Ms. Mathur handheld me through school teaching life lessons was one thing. But, once I was out of school, I thought my most dreaded fear came true again. I was once again an ignored small child in the big bad world, whom nobody preferred to give a heed. Until one day, as I came back to a letter at my hostel after my first day at Delhi University. It was from Ms. Mathur. She had somehow managed to catch hold of my college information from one of my friends and school and had written to me. I still carry that letter with me wherever I go. It is right here with me, even today. And it reads:
Dear Stuti,
When I first saw you enter my class late in Grade 9, it wasn’t your shabby clothes or your tardiness that bothered me, but your innocent face which longed for care, and your bright eyes which still had hope. Life isn’t a bouquet of roses. I am sure yours wasn’t too, growing up. Nothing but you can comment on what you have gone through. Yes, people get it much tougher – some kids don’t get education, others are orphans, some others poor. But, that’s their struggle, and in no way does it belittle yours. Having said all this, it is all in the past. Today, as you take a step forward to change your life, remember that you are not alone like that little girl who entered my class. This time around you have me, every step of the way. I trust you. On every occasion when you doubt yourself, remember that I still think that you are the brightest star that I had the privilege to teach, and you will be the same for me, forever. I am sure that your success and life’s joys will be the wind beneath your wings, but if ever you feel low, I am there. Here’s my number: xxxxx
Lots of love,Suman
“I wouldn’t say ‘Thank-you’ because I think it is too small a phrase to carry in itself everything that ma’am Mathur was to this lost, uncared for child. But, to answer your question on my inspiration and what got me here, it was Ms. Suman Mathur. I am, and will be nothing without her,” were the last words that Ms. Mathur heard before she switched the TV off.
It was time she started to leave for evening school. As she set back her sari palla, took her bag and the umbrella, and opened the door, there was a crowd of small children, smiling ear to ear, waiting outside with roses.
In her small way, Ms. Mathur had created a wave of change.