It is a norm that a student should write the memorial tribute for a teacher. But with her untimely passing, Srutimala turned the tables effectively on us.
What does one say about a person who had so many dreams and plans - to write in all genres, to travel to places not often frequented by tourists, to acquire new skills, to enjoy happy times with her beloved mother and her cherished children, to have fun times with her dear friends.
Srutimala was my student before we became colleagues. I remember the tall, well behaved girl with two long plaits sitting in the first bench in every major class. She wrote short stories even then and would often show them to me for critical evaluation. There was always this strong desire in her to improve her craft and to absorb knowledge.
When she joined Handique Girls’ College (HGC) as teacher, she already had a special place in everyone's heart as her mother's daughter. But as the days went by, Srutimala earned her own distinctive niche as a good teacher. Her unique style sense made her a favourite among students and she established an instant rapport with them because of her easy camaraderie and quirky sense of humour.
The name given to her was traditional and evokes the image of a gentle, restrained, artistic person. But Srutimala was vibrant and outgoing, always eager to extract the last ounce of enjoyment from life's experiences. Yet, she was also appreciative of beauty and honed her writing skills to perfection as she matured in years. Her well modulated voice made many well known poems come pulsatingly alive. Her anchoring was always faultless. Although she appeared deceptively easy going and casual at times, we have seen her preparing for every activity with meticulous care and precision. Even her travel plans were perfectly thought out and organized.
The Department of English of HGC was always a happy place for all of us because we instinctively bonded despite having such markedly different personalities. Every memory of those golden days has Srutimala etched in it. We worked together in perfect harmony, gossiped together, laughed and joked together and learned together. The difference in our ages did not matter when we worked as a team. Even the tedium of departmental chores were lessened by Srutimala's sense of fun and interesting quips.
It is unthinkable that Srutimala will not be there when we visit the department in the future. In the last two years, she raged and raged against the dying of the light. But this morning she submitted to the inexorable fate and gently went into the good night leaving so many people bereft.
It is said that the measure of one's life is taken not by the years lived but by the quality of life experiences. If this is so, then we have to celebrate her life into which she packed so much within such a short span. Maybe, the initial kneejerk reaction to her passing will be followed by this calmer introspection and we will acknowledge, albeit reluctantly, that hers was a life well lived.
As her teacher, colleague, and I hope, friend, all I can wish for her today is that (misquoting Wilde here)--in the space where there is no yesterday and no tomorrow, may she forget time, forgive life and be finally at peace.
