On a philosophical note, for some it is a search for identity, or an exploration of their selves, seeking to find roots and recognition, maybe, for very personal reasons. Whereas in the physical world, parents should lament their lost children; and children should be trying to find out their parents if there were no links leading to them.
Lately the virtual online world has also come to facilitate most sought after vantage point to look out for missing people. Net users are taking to social networking sites vehemently in their effort to find their old but long lost friends and acquaintances. I have heard stories of friends who were lucky enough to locate their school friends, classmates, teachers, and old colleagues.
I too am trying to hit at a 'Miss' — Miss Manocha, our teacher in my college. She had a charismatic personality. Draped in colourful chiffon sari, shielding herself from sun with a matching-colourful-floral-umbrella, when she reached the college in a rickshaw, none could afford to miss the sight of her. Within the first year of college, we were so mesmerised with her persona that we sometimes bunked classes to have a glimpse of her.
For four years we kept admiring her quietly from a distance, looking forward to attending her lectures some day. Finally, she took our class in the final year of the graduation degree. And believe you me, ask any of the students of those times about the course he/she liked the most and it was invariably what Miss Manocha taught.
More than what she taught we made the best of the long awaited opportunity to be in her class and get a chance to observe her being closest to her. She had a very soft voice, but a peculiar style of speaking. Her expressions were very rhythmic. While busy noticing and copying her style and gestures, what I had missed was that being the class topper all those four years, it was not easy to remain unnoticed, and the worst part was that teachers expect answer for every question from you in the class. And this made me too her favourite student.
My association with her grew stronger when she took our class on an educational trip to visit a hospital, in Shahdara, Delhi, and made me the group-in-charge. I admired her to the extent that I imitated her style when asked to mimic my favourite teacher at the farewell party. Soon after I passed out of the college, Miss Manocha got transferred, being promoted as Principal. I too got busy pursuing my masters. And I completely lost all connections with my beau-model.
I miss my Miss. And am fondly in love with her despite her whereabouts not being known to me. A real miss for me!
