I saw her first when I went to get admission into her class. She was reputed as the best English teacher at the time. I was there all by myself and stood there, watching her. She was sitting in a chair, jotting down names, addresses and marks of the applicants and the fees received in a register. Most others had one or both of their parents with them. I was the only loner. She glanced at me briefly as she kept talking to the other students and their parents. Finally she turned to me and asked, "Yes?"
I had been taken in by her personality. She was graceful in her talk and in her movements. She was not exactly slim, on the other hand she looked a little plump. Her hands were strong, unlike other women of her age I had seen. Oh, talking of age she was quite mature, around forty would be my guess. An oval and stern face looked pretty on her. Her short length hair fell to her broad shoulders. In a way she was more masculine than feminine, though she still had a special charm around her.
I gave my details and money and waited till she jotted down the details in her register, in a small and neat handwriting. Her face had softened up as she talked to me, and I thought she looked pretty. I left her place, thinking of her. Being seventeen, I had started romancing about a few girls in my school and sometimes a pretty lady that walked by. I had no idea about sex, but I yearned for a touch, a caress of a female hand, was excited if I caused some girl to smile, watched the girls secretly and admired their feminine ways.
It was important for me to polish up my English if I were to have any realistic hope of landing a job. I would soon be starting college and once out I would need to have a job in hand. It would be wise to invest in the education early on. The classes started a month later, held every morning at 6am for an hour a day.
I sat in the back row, but Jaya madam, the teacher, soon made me sit in the front row. It was an experience I could not easily forget. Sitting so close to her, I could smell the fragrance of her body. Every morning as we arrived one after another, she would be sitting in her usual chair, a whiteboard near at hand, waiting for us. As we took our places she would then start the lesson by first revising whatever had been taught in the last lesson and then starting onto a new topic. Every week there was a test, written and oral. The routine was soon turning hectic, as we had to do a lot of homework each day. The only respite was her.
As I sat in the front row each morning, I could observe her much closely. She would be bathed and dressed, ready for the class every day. Her hair neatly parted and combed, and most of the days she wore a saree and a blouse. The blouse showed off part of her neck and shoulders and sometimes I could get a glimpse of her tummy from behind the pallu of her saree. It was an enchating experience to see her, watch her, smell her so much up close. I desperately wished to see her hips. I wished to see them sway as she walked, watch the round, fleshy buttocks swing about with each step of hers. But unfortunately she would be in her seat well before we all arrived and would stay there, as if she didn't want to show them off to us. It wasn't long before she took the centre stage in my romantic fantasies.
Days passed, school started and the daily routine became even more hectic. Soon the class timings changed to week-ends. Instead of an hour a day, we now assembled on each Saturday and Sunday mornings from 6am to 9am. I was sad for not having a chance to see Jaya madam every day, but had some compensation in that I could watch her now for more time.
Soon about six months passed and the school midterm exams loomed nearer. I was feeling a little nervous and requested the teacher to help me out. I had some problem in understanding the grammar, specially the different tenses. She asked me to come in one afternoon.
I arrived at her door at about half past three. Feeling a little anxious, as I would be alone with her today, I was shaking a little. I raised my hand to ring the bell, but then decided not to. I tried the door and to my surprise it opened slowly. Was it left open on purpose or by oversight? I pushed it open and entered, quietly closing it behind me. Then I looked around.
She had been sitting in her usual chair. But she wasn't awake. Whether she had been waiting for me a long time or not, she must have fallen asleep in the chair, having forgotten to lock the door. I stood there, admiring the sleeping beauty. Her head lolled to the right and the mass of her dark hair covered her shoulder, leaving the left one bare. Most amazingly, the pallu of her saree had fallen off her left shoulder, leaving her chest partially exposed. I could now see the white chest bare and could make out the start of her breasts through the neck of the blouse. I wish she wore a lower cut blouse, but she didn't. I had an urge to move closer and do something, like maybe touch her or even kiss her. I even took a step towards her, but the movement probably brought her to. She opened her eyes, startled, and quickly adjusted her clothes and regained her composure. She must have noticed me looking at her with more than just respect for a teacher. But she didn't say anything. Instead she started off with the tuition, taking my mind away for the moment.
I reached home that day, the lesson slowly drifting out of my mind and her half-bare top drifting in. It hadn't been much, but then I hadn't seen so much female flesh yet. No wonder I was amazed.
The exams were soon over and so were my special tuitions. However during those interactions, she had noticed I had something more for her. While she didn't encourage it, she seemed a little surprised and even a little happy to receive some attention from a young boy.
The final exams concluded, the teacher had announced a special prize for the student who scored the highest in English. Nobody knew what the prize was, but I was sure everyone would try to win it. She was stern, but also very helpful and was most everyone's favourite. Even I was eager to see who would win and what the prize would be, wishing I could hope to win it. The results were out after a month and we all met together for one last farewell at her residence, in our former classroom. I was dazed, holding the marksheet in my hands and staring at the magic figure under the English subject: 98/100. To have scored such good marks was like a dream come true. As we all gathered together, there was another surprise in store for me. I was the highest scorer! The nearest anyone had scored was 95/100. I was thrilled beyond comparison and for a few moments was completely oblivious to the din of the other students around me.
She was sitting as usual in her chair, a smile on her otherwise straight face, as she looked at all her students, a kind of proud, patronizing gaze. She deserved to feel proud, after all. Most of her students had excelled in English, as was the tradition every year. Soon the noises died down in anxiety over what the prize would be. But first there was to be something else. A farewell of sorts. The table near her was full of dishes with light snacks and a small glass of sherbat. Everyone helped himself/herself with the same and soon the talk was on what each would be doing now that school was over. After the eating and drinking subsided, she made a little speech, stressing all that she had taught us throughout the year, not just about English but about good behaviour, honesty and hardwork. There were a couple from the students too who read out small pieces from paper. The room was suddenly quiet, we wouldn't be seeing each other every day, some of us would probably never meet each other again. But then the gloom didn't last long, as she fished out a small basket from under the table.
"Here's the prize for the highest scorer! I have written four different things on four different pieces of paper. The student who has scored the highest marks in English will come forward and pick a piece of paper. He or she will get whatever is written on it." She announced as everybody listened with attention. "So who is the winner?" she asked.
I don't know till date what drove me to do it, but I raised my hand to ask a question: "Wouldn't it be good if the winner got a wish of his choosing?"
She appeared confused. Surely it wasn't expected. "How do you mean?" She asked. Well, the trouble was I didn't know how. But a thought quickly came to mind.
"How about we let the winner place four wishes in the chits, and you choose one of them?" I asked. It was probably a ridiculous idea. Others had started laughing quietly at the notion of this. But she thought it wonderful. "That's wonderful. Why not?" She threw away the paper chits in the basket and brought out a blank paper and pen from one of the drawers of the table. "So let the winner step forward!" she announced again. I walked up to her. She was surprised to see it was me who had scored the highest, and smiled in comprehension at the little trick I had played on her. I took the paper and tore it into four pieces. Then I wrote on each of the pieces and folded the four chits, before dropping them into the basket. I was smiling too. But she couldn't refuse now. She held the basket in front of the gathering and instead of picking one herself, asked another student to come forward and pick one for her.
As the student picked out a chit and handed it over, she set the basket down on the table and opened the chit in her hand. As she read it her face flushed, but admirably she regained her composure instantly. Smiling to the students she read out loudly: "Evening coffee with my teacher!". As the students cheered, she fixed her gaze on my face. I turned my face away. I was afraid she would refuse, or scold me. But she didn't.
Slowly the crowd began dispersing. We exchanged contact numbers, addresses and notes on what to do next. As students filed out one by one, I moved away from the dispersing group and towards the centre of the room. She was still in the chair, watching with a heavy mind as the students walked out. She beckoned me and I went near her chair.
"So smartie, when do you want to have the evening coffee?" She asked. I noted a different tone. It was not what I had expected. It was a touch of sadness. As if my prank had hurt her somewhere deep down. I was sorry, but at the same time I didn't want to lose my chance. I proposed a day next week. She nodded.
The week went by very slowly. Perhaps because I wanted it to pass quickly. It was painful. Each day I woke up, wishing the classes would continue and I could meet my teacher every day. Alas, it was a long wait till the Thursday when I had fixed up a 'date' with her.
The day finally came. All day I was distracted by the thought of meeting her. As I reached her, several thoughts crossed my mind, the most irritating one being that she had some guests who would be butting in onto my wish. I rang the bell and crossed my fingers in eager anticipation of what would happen next.
"Come in!" Her voice answered the bell. I pushed the door. It was not locked. I came in and closed it behind me. She was alone and I didn't want anyone butting in on us.
