The word on the street was that she was somewhat of a strict teacher. When I first encountered her – in my very first class in second grade, I also realized that she was very tall and towered over little seven year olds like us.

She opened up this book – a small brown cover book called “Brighter Grammar”, as I recollect – and asked “What is grammar”? I raised my puny little hand up – still a little afraid of her. She looked at me and I blurted out “Grammar is the art of putting the right words in the right place”. I am sure you are impressed by my grasp of the language called English at that age. In reality, I had no idea what I just said.

Turns out that my dad had opened up that book before packing it in my bag the previous night and read the first page and that was how the book started. And he taught me those words right then and there. I did not even know what “art” meant, especially in this context. Although I think I knew what “word” and “place” meant.

Back to Mrs. Shastri – for that was what we called her…, she closed the book and asked me “Do you want a double promotion?”. If I did not know what “art” meant, there was no way in God’s green earth I would know what a “double promotion” meant. I was scared out of my wits by her question. Instinctively, I felt that if she had closed the book before talking to me, that could not be good any which way to Sunday. I just bleated out “No, ma’m”. And she proceeded on with the rest of the lesson. Which, of course, I have no recollection of. Because my dad never taught me anything beyond that first line.

When I came home, I complained to my dad that he did not teach me the right thing and he should stay away from my books. My teacher had threatened to give me a “double promotion”. Some hearty laughter from him and for good measure, complete confusion from my side later, I sorted out that I was going to be okay with Mrs. Shastri. I might have even hit a home run with her, for all you knew.

Just as I was starting to feel really great about myself, my father said – “You gave the right answer. You are not mature enough to go to third grade”. And there went all my feeling great about myself. Never quite figured out who was more strict – my dad or Mrs. Shastri.

Why am I telling you this story now? Because I just finished up telling this story to Mrs. Shastri herself. You see, after getting out of second grade – way back in 1974 – a full 43 years later, I actually heard her voice today and talked to her over the phone. I have not met her yet (so the picture here is taken from her Facebook public profile) but I certainly intend to do so at the earliest.

One of the reasons our paths never crossed much after 1974 was that in 1976 I left that school and in 1978 she relocated back to her home state. And yet, it was crazy to find out how close we have been later without knowing of each other’s presence. Apparently, she used to come to Dallas to visit her son – during a time period when I lived there with my family!!! For all you know, I might have even seen her in one of those Indian grocery stores!!

It was great catching up with her and learning about her journey in life. It was exciting to hear about the book she has written (and one more is on the way) and her research and teachings in alternate methods of healing.

Towards the end, I had a nagging feeling that I was forgetting something as I kept my conversation up with with her. And then it hit me suddenly – “Before I forget ma’m… A very happy birthday!!”

As I kept the phone down, a sense of great happiness descended upon me. The fact that I was finally able to say “Thank You” to somebody who influenced me at such a tender age was an unbelievably satisfying experience!

And this story will not be complete without me thanking Mrs. Bose – my third grade classroom teacher – without whole help, I would have never found out Mrs. Shastri’s whereabouts!

Back in my ninth grade, our class had five rows and four columns of desks. Each desk accommodated two students. I still distinctly remember where I sat. And more importantly, the guy who sat exactly three seats behind me. A fair guy – Uday Mukherjee being his name – he was very good in certain sports like ping pong (that was a big thing for us in school) and was very meritorious too.

But here is the thing. Somehow, he evaded my search for all our classmates for years. Very few people could give me pointers about his whereabouts. All we knew was that he had become a doctor. Many even suggested that he was in the US. That was the last thing possible. Usually, it is not difficult to find somebody in the US if you tried hard. And I would like to believe that I tried hard.

And yet, after 11 years of searching for him, I found out that he has been living in California all this time! The biggest irony is that in a previous job, I used to drive by his house all the time for our office visits!!

After having seen him last in March, 1983 – 34 years later, almost to the day, late at night last Wednesday, I showed up in front of his door!!!

That was a memorable meeting!! I thought I hit it off very well with his twins. Although, I have a nagging feeling that they are going to remember me as “that weird uncle” 🙂 Listening to Uday and I talking, you would not have believed how many years had gone by before we got to meet again. The big regret though is that I learnt I will not be able to see either of this parents any more. That is such a shame. Such nice people they were!

All in all, it was fantastic catching up with the 98th member of our 103-strong class. Three are no more. I still have to find out 2 more!! Maybe Uday can help me. He already got me connected to a friend from my twelfth grade!!

The good news was that she is a very early riser. And I was three hours behind Atlanta – so, I was going to be up at a God forsaken hour anyways. But that allowed me to catch up with Liz very early in the morning before our work day started.

Originally, I got to know Liz as a customer of ours. We had common interests in running, studying how the human mind works and all that. So, we kept up with each other even after we both left our respective jobs. Funny part is that the last time I met her was also in the very early hours of a winter morning – it was in Dallas though. I was there for some work. We both ran in a park in pretty dark conditions and then caught up over coffee. Both of us were experimenting with the Vibram (no support) shoes that time.

While it was a little over an hour that we got a chance to meet, I got a lot of life lessons from her. The biggest gain was to get some pointers about advanced mindfulness and yoga – specifically the connection of somatic fascia and yoga. I am still a neophyte in these areas – and she conducts camps in Italy every year. So, it was a little bit of drinking-out-of-the-fire-hose situation for me. But I did get some good recommendations on literature and I now need to read them up.

There were some candid discussions around Facebook itself – especially the role social media has started playing in to the concept of “ego”. She is certainly far more disciplined than me in terms of how she spends her time – and a lot more intentional in how she prioritizes her life. But the remarkable part is how she has kept herself well balanced. She avoids the extremes – none of the “no more of this”, “no more of that” and all that. She just moderates everything.

Which is a good thing. Because when the lady at the breakfast place came to take her orders, Liz started ordering all the healthy stuff.

“Oh! Come on! We are meeting after such a long time. You can let your hair down today”, I said as I proceeded to order my eggs, bread and hash browns!!

After a few seconds, she relented. “Ok, then”, she said and then looking at the waitress, she added “I will have mine with grits”.

Two decades of being in San Francisco but the Louisiana girl in her still comes out once in a while!!