When I was a little girl, there were only two things I was truly afraid of.

Thunder storms and teachers.

On several nights, I would somehow brave the storms by creeping into my parents’ bedroom and sleeping next to my mother. I felt safer there than in my own room.

But that sense of security lasted only till she would drop me to school.

My class teacher was a lean, middle aged woman called Mrs. Uma Srinivas.

She always looked down at us children, through the golden rimmed spectacles that rested half way down her nose and would angrily push them up at the sight of any indiscipline in the class. Mrs. Srinivas never tolerated any mischief in the class be it boisterous behaviour in the last benches or coming late to the class even by a minute.

Her booming voice carried all through the cold, stony corridors and made some kids shiver, some kids perspire. And me, well pee a little, if she was too loud.

The thing I remember most about her was how she held the cane in her hand, more often than the chalk. On many occasions she had rapped my knuckles with that cane when I didn’t manage to remember the multiplication tables during the oral exam she conducted every Monday. I barely understood why I was being chastised in front of everyone and as a result and I never really learnt the multiplication tables the right way.

I can also vividly recall how my insides would do a somersault every time I would see her enter the class room. All my nightmares featured Mrs. Srinivas and the threatening things she would say would make me wake up in a sweat. Needless to say, mathematics was on the bottom of the list of my favourite subjects for many years and I dreaded school because I dreaded my teacher. But I didn’t dare to share this piece of hell with anyone for fear of being ridiculed. I silently lived in that world, until one fine, December morning.

It was Monday and Mrs. Srinivas wasn’t in class at the dot of nine. That was highly unusual considering that she was such a stickler for punctuality. I could bet that she would be on time to class even if an earthquake, stampede and a world war happened simultaneously.

The principal then explained to us that she was on leave for five months as she was expecting a baby soon. I noticed everyone in the class whooping in joy like I did. That meant freedom. Relief. Happy dreams at night.

Giving us very little scope for further celebration, the principal led the substitute teacher into the classroom. Our spirits were immediately dampened thinking of being transported into that world of fear once again.

I looked up at her. She was very tall, slim and had ebony skin that glowed. She stood in front of the class and looked at all of us and smiled, with her arms folded.

“Good morning, class”, she said, smiling sweetly as she turned around to write on the blackboard.

A-R-U-N-A spelt out on the board.

“That’s my name.”, she said as she turned back at us, flicking her long braid over her petite shoulders.

“How many of you are good at mathematics in this class?”, she asked, still smiling.

No hands went up.

“How many of you like mathematics?”, she asked again.

Still no hands.

“Oh, I see. Appears to me that we have some BRAIN MINING’ to do as to why you don’t like mathematics.”, she said thoughtfully, hands tied behind her back.

Giggles erupted from everywhere.

I watched her skin glow as she spoke.

“Students, do you know how important mathematics is in your daily life? Why don’t you think of the reasons why you need to study it?”, she said.

Still pleasantly surprised that the usual Monday Torture had not yet begun, we got to work and made a list of reasons, each of being given a chance to write our view on the blackboard. The ideas that flowed were boundless.

Some said math is important to help us design rockets, to make computers work, to calculate the total of bills while on errands. The board was covered in childish doodles and the class had suddenly come alive as Miss Aruna validated every single view. That day she did not start lessons, but devoted it to learning all our names well for better communication.

By treating to us ten year olds like we were intelligent adults, had struck the right chord with us. From that day on, I actually opened up my mind a tad more to math though the nervousness still lingered. Miss Aruna seemed to have answers to everything. She taught us to question why we learn what we learn. Multiplication tables, arithmetic, geometry.

She gave us handy hints on how to solve certain problems and taught us cute mnemonics to remember them all.

That was when we really understood its application in daily life. I was surprised that I had been ignorant to all these areas when Mrs. Srinivas used to teach us. Our class actually began to wait keenly for Miss Aruna’s class.

For her tricky puzzles.

For the way she amused us by drawing little figures on the board using numerals.

For the smell of the jasmine in her long braid.

For her reassuring smile.

I had fallen in love with my dear teacher and hoped that she would teach our class till I was ready to pass out of school.

But good times sure do fly by too fast. It was time for our final exams and the butterflies in my stomach seemed to reproduce as we got closer to the math exam.

I had studied very hard as I wanted to get a hundred percent and please Miss Aruna.

The question papers were handed out to all of us and we got to cracking the problems immediately. I could recognize Miss Aruna’s hand written message to all of us on it.

‘Good luck students! Let the brain mining begin.’ It was a very challenging paper but possible to overcome with the faith that she had instilled in me those past few months.

I smiled to myself everytime I found a solution to a problem. It is one of the best feelings in the world, really.

It was smooth sailing until I realised that my pen went on strike. It stopped writing. I shook it vigourosly and rubbed it between my palm. But in vain.

There was still so much more to complete and I did not have an extra pen. My eyes welled up and I became so mad at myself for being so irresponsible. My classmates shook their head at me in pity. The last time that happened to a girl in my class she was sent out of the exam hall by Mrs. Srinivas for not being careful enough to get extra stationery. Miss Aruna noticed my red eyes and walked up to my seat. I was praying she would not scold me for my stupidity. I was already upset enough for the two of us.

Instead she knelt down beside me as softly asked me what the matter was. As I sobbed and explained my dilemma, to the surprise of everyone she smiled and said, “Oh, that is all? Give that pen to me.”

She took my pen, turned around and ran to her staff room and came back with it.

Filled with ink!

“Here, now hurry up! Start writing!”, she said, returning my pen. So I wrote and wrote… The ink kept flowing smoothly as did the ideas in my mind. The way my teacher came to my rescue and broke my fall, during my time of crisis as minute as it was, impacted the way I started looking at teachers and math examinations.

When our report cards came out, I was too overwhelmed for words. Hundred percent it was! I had always thought I was a loser because I was a dunce at math. That day I felt on top of the world. Like I could take any challenge by the horns from that day on.

Like all beautiful times, this one too didn’t last too long. Very soon, Mrs. Srinivas had finished having her baby and was ready to come back. Our hearts broke to let Miss Aruna go. To let the good times go. But we had to.

Today as I think back fondly about her, I realize what the ‘Power of One’ is.

Many times it amazes me how one vote can change the face of a country’s government. How one seed can grow into a huge tree, one day.

How one experience can inspire people to change the course of their lives.

How one person could erase my repulsion for school and teachers completely. I owe that to Miss Aruna. I don’t know where she is today or how she is doing. But I do know that she came into my life like a breath of fresh air when I was choking in fear and showing me that one can make a difference independently, without being a part of the crowd.

And just so you know, the only thing I am afraid of today, is a thunder storm!