Ma’am, you were my anam cara, soul friend, teacher, and eternal guide, and you will always be.
As our moral science teacher in class 8, you set the moral compass in each one of us, and that became our guiding light, from then to now. We were privileged to learn briefly under your tutelage in Class 9. But then you left for Delhi, and my batch felt like a headless chicken or rather a cat on a hot tin roof, scattered, lost and grappling with the vast English syllabus, prose, poetry and drama, and that too Julius Caesar, and change of two teachers in the entire term. That was a tad disappointing for me and the rest of my batchmates. All of us had heard about how you had helped the batch of 1993, then in Class 11, stage the play at Pell Mell and on a quote historical day… 6th December 1992, and oh boy, it was a roaring success from the word go.
My wish to be your student remained largely unfulfilled back then in school. But the Universe was watching and found a way to fulfil this earnest desire most beautifully. I chanced upon an online news feature on you, which surprisingly had a backlink to your website with your email address and mobile number.
I quickly emailed a request, and in a day, with Naaz’s help, you called me. I was over the moon.
I went to meet in late 2015 and was stunningly delighted at this chance encounter with my favourite teacher. I kept meeting you on and off.

From 2016 onwards, I became more regular here. I found your energy and enthusiasm remarkable and secretly hoped a bit of it could rub off on me, too. I saw you attending the school, looking after its day-to-day affairs, monitoring and managing it so well, quite singlehandedly. Year after year, I saw you successfully organise Mehendi Camps here in C Pocket Park, eye care camps, health care camps, and blood donation camps in Madanpur Khadar Village, and events for every occasion in the school without fail.
You knew that empowering children through education wasn’t enough. You introduced Dance, Yoga, Sports sessions, and vocational training for underprivileged children, a thoughtful way of well-rounded growth and development. While preparing the Souvenir in 2016 for the 21st Annual Day celebration, I learned about your long and arduous journey, and I will doff my hat in honour of your tenacious spirit.
You taught me more than you could have as my English teacher in school. I have done it all these years, which I attribute to you. You were a pretty hard taskmaster, I must say. I connected my Carmel school seniors and teachers, designed and edited the newsletters, booklets and Souvenirs, did fundraising by way of selling ad spaces in the annual Souvenir, and also found buyers for your hand-knit woollen sweaters, caps, mufflers, socks, stoles, papad, achaar, badi, diwali candles and diyas, embroidered towels, cushion covers, and table cloths, and cloth shopping bags; organising stalls at different events across the city to sell of these kinds of stuff too. You trusted me to organise a picnic for school children around Delhi’s historical hotspots in 2017, screening films for them, and organising workshops for teachers. Well, you taught me more than anyone else could in all these years.

I joined you as a Volunteer, and even though I was formally inducted into the core team of the NGO and took up the position of Secretary, I always felt like your foot soldier.
We Carmelites met on your birthday, teacher’s day and Guldasta’s annual day, and you were the most gracious host ever.
The last assignment you entrusted me with was spreading the word about your autobiography, Much Ado About Nothing. I did.
But yes, I couldn’t carry forward the mantle of leading the NGO or taking charge of the school, Guldasta. I knew I didn’t have the chops for the same or could, in my wildest dreams, match your passion for the cause, dedication to the task and commitment to lead it. I was struggling with my health and withdrew because I thought that was the best way to avoid disappointing you. I failed. And I am sorry.
An African proverb says when an old man dies, a library burns to the ground. And when an old woman dies, I say, a school burns to the ground. This is how I feel writing about everything you meant to me. It is a strange coincidence that you chose to pack off in December, the most important month in your school’s calendar, when you would be right here in the Community Hall for Guldasta’s Annual Day. It is here where we have assembled today to celebrate you but without you.
I will miss your childlike innocence, strength, wit and humour, and life lessons. I will crack up thinking how you had asked me to arrange for a death certificate in advance. Well, that remains unbeatable to date.
Everything about you, my chocolatey lady, as I fondly called you for your love of chocolates and cakes, will be missed by all of us here… Your birthday, which falls on World Chocolate Day, will be another reason to binge on chocolates from 2024 onwards.
Goodbye till we meet again!