The Bridge

12 years have passed since she visited her school. She has herself become a teacher now. Yes, a teacher; but not quite the way she had expected. Her “gurudakshina” have turned into a sin. The principles she stood for all her life, she has defied one of them. Albeit this isn’t a first. The second broken principle and the second sin. 2 sins, 2 years apart. Each time she had broken one, she had lost a part of her “Guru”. The necessity for a greater “Gurudakshina” has increased. She have started taking tuitions. The very idea she disbelieved. She thought teaching as a duty. An inevitable obligation she must fulfil. A form of gratitude and the only mark of respect towards her teachers. A way of “Gurudakshina”, towards her motherland and teachers. Sadly, it had turned to be a last resort for survival. The “Guru” she sought in her motherland and her teacher, have been defiled.

She finished the last line and went for a midnight stroll. While walking she came across a collapsing old house. She smiled, her first smile of the day. The house has been there since the past 6 years. As a child she used to wander in its alleys. It was a bridge to her way of thinking, a guide to this strange world. Much like her favourite teacher. One of her closest ideal of  “Guru”

She remembered a saying by a renowned philosopher and teacher.

“IDEAL TEACHERS ARE BRIDGES WHICH GUIDE STUDENTS TO THE OTHER SIDE. THEN LET THE BRIDGE COLLAPSE AND ENCOURAGE TO BUILD NEW ONES.”

The old bridge has collapsed. It is time for a new bridge.

She has to be THE BRIDGE.

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