My phone rang at about 10.30 pm. It was an unknown number. I was really not in a nice mood. I’ve been under tremendous pressure to watch tonnes of films at deadline time for both the Berlin Film Festival and the Golden Globe Awards as an International Voter. Calls are intrusive when I’m watching films; I prefer emails or texts, so I can reply without being disturbed. “Oh God, Meenakshi, I finally got you!” said a voice at the other end. “It’s Sister Margaret. From St Teresa’s School.” I squealed. Sister Margaret! She was our Class Teacher in high school, and we had last met when I finished school over 40 years ago! 

She told me about the endless trouble she had, trying to trace my number from ex-students, ever since she read my column Back to School (July 3, 2022), on attending the St Teresa’s Convent High School reunion (1922-2022), at Santa Cruz, where I studied as a kid. I crumbled like a Glucose biscuit in hot chai. I was deeply moved that she would remember me, after four decades. She herself would be in her 70s now. We talked of our glorious school years—childhood years glow even more with the distance of time, don’t they? And then she said something that moved me even more. “I had just finished doing my BEd (Bachelor of Education), and was assigned to teach your class. So you were my first batch, and I taught your class English. Actually, when I asked your class to write essays, I used to just wait to read your essays, because you wrote so well. I wasn’t bothered about marking it etc, I just loved to read your essays so much.” I was moved to tears. I had no idea about all this till now. Sometimes, we just do our jobs the best we can, and we have no idea what impact it can have on someone else’s life. Later, around Diwali, I visited her at St Joseph’s Convent, Pune, where she lives a pleasant retired life, and plied me with cake and cream rolls.