Dear Mrs Grover

A letter to my favorite teacher, who sowed the seeds of who I'm becoming today.

I don’t remember the first day I saw you in school, in your flowing saree, gorgeously roller-styled less-salt-more-pepper hair (which I do too, now!), wide smile, and most importantly, the unbelievable aura you always had around you.

But I do remember deciding to stay on in school in 11th grade, even though it did not have the stream of my preference, because you were going to, finally, teach me economics.

I got to spend two whole school years with you. How incredibly lucky I am.

I loved economics (because of you), but you also instilled a love of literature, art, fashion, culture, and society.

You taught me to ask questions, search for answers, set a boundary, show myself off, and never do it without a signature style.

At the risk of seeming obsessed (which I was), I used to look up to the Head Girls list when I was in 8th grade and find your name. Just reading your name in print, high up on the wall, would make me feel special. Back then, I used to think about how beautifully you carry the Loreto spirit.

I know now that you were/are the Loreto spirit.

You would see and acknowledge every single student, whether you knew their names or not.

You would pass on a compliment without censoring yourself.

You would correct us and make fun of us, without ever being unkind.

You would make sure every single student felt individually important and special, without any comparison to anyone else.

You made sure you became our safe space just by virtue of being who you were/are.

I remember this one day, before 11th grade had ever happened, when you stopped me on the 2nd-floor staircase to ask me about the library book I was carrying. You spent maybe 2 minutes talking to me about your understanding of the book and asked me about mine, and then sent me off for class.

The book was Palace of Illusions. I have never stopped reading ever since.

I remember in 12th grade, you sat me down and told me very sincerely that you saw a future in the United Nations for me.

When I got my first job right out of law school, at the UN, you were the first person I called to share the news.

I’m a director/professor at a university these days. I work with young entrepreneurs, undergraduate and postgraduate, and even some school students, on building businesses.

It’s a new age university. We teach/learn by doing.

Every day I work with these immensely talented, driven, bright students, and remember you.

I love them so much. I’m so grateful I have this opportunity to give back the love you gave me.

Since the last few months of being here, my young 18-year-olds keep sharing insights of how much they love me.

Sometimes, they tell me they look up to. Some want to be like me. I know, in their naivety, they have great taste, because I’m becoming more and more like you.

As they grow up, they’ll find themselves. And they’ll be wonderful people (they already are!). And there will be a little bit of you in them.

You taught me how to be kind and stern and joyful and smart and well-dressed and graceful and respectful and funny and dependable. All at the same time, without exception.

I wink at you when I drape a saree for some of our events.

I send you a quick prayer before every tough conversation.

I wish you were here today so I could share all of this with you.

Instead, I’m going to work hard to pass on the baton. I hope one day, one of my students gets the opportunity to write this letter.

I know wherever you are today, you’d be proud of me.

After all, you taught me the most important thing: I’m proud of myself.

Lots of love, keep flying, my little birdie, and don’t forget your matching bindi.

Love you loads!