It is an end of an era. At least for those of us who were fortunate enough to know and were taught by Mrs. Farhat Kumar in St. Mary’s Academy Meerut, Loretto Convent in Lucknow and several other schools in different part of India for Mrs Kumar was married to an Indian Army officer who travelled all over India in different cantonement towns.
Just as I was looking forward to wishing her Mubarak this Eid, her younger son Aftab informed that she had passed away on 5th September (ironically on a Teacher's Day) last year succumbing to lung cancer. As our class teacher in Class VIIIth, she introduced us to humanistic stories written by Norah Burke in “Jungle Pictures” – stories that came alive much later in a landscape that is today Corbett Tiger Reserve and thus started my lifelong romance with Corbett which has continued to this date. We will forever miss you Madam!
I have not known any great leader past or present – I only knew Mrs. Kumar. Stunningly beautiful with deep blue eyes, an aquiline nose and sharp features, Mrs. Kumar was always tastefully dressed and a picture of elegance. But what made her remarkable was her sense of values, her discrimination of right and wrong. With a mettle harder than steel, she would stand to her principles refusing to budge even an inch whatever may be the nature of the pressure.

She was truly inspiring and I owe not only my command over English language but my sense of direction in life to her. She did not just teach English language and literature; she taught us how to conduct oneself and carry forward in a world full of moral dilemmas by setting a sterling example and through her invocations. Corruption and lying were equally an anathema to her. She would often complain that her students would tell her what world she was living in hinting at the inability to live without black money.
I learnt from her how to stick to one’s ground and to be at ease with persons big or small with equal humility. As a student we found her habit of smoking quite attractive. Sometimes she would try to quit and then count how many days she had quit in the class much to our amusement, but only to resume again. She was the strictest teacher and a disciplinarian but equally kind at heart. 
Once she realized that there was no celebration for the Children's Day. She personally drove alone to the market in her fiat car and shortly afterwards, every student in the class received pink paper bags with laddoos (the veritable Indian sweet) and possibly samosas.
Surely, her personality could match any star or celebrity's, but she spent her life dedicated to teaching with contentment. During the last few years we were fortunate to have met her several times. Her house in Sainik Farms in South Delhi was so tastefully decorated, yet without any ostentation. I was surprised how she had preserved her sofa with ban weaving since I visited her house in Saket in 1981 and perhaps from even earlier.
Owing to her husband's illness, she had withdrawn herself to her house and the small garden and it seemed that time came to a standstill. 
My wife and myself both enjoyed wonderful conversation and many a delicacies at the lunches hosted by her. But on each occasion she would correct my 3-4 grammatical mistakes because after all she was a teacher, and we would laugh about it. She had an amazing repertoire of recipes from Azamgarh complete with numbers of cloves and pepper corns and the ml of H2O! My wife still makes the kebabs and “kharemasalekagosht’ according to her recipes and has often earned compliments from guests.
It was a blessing to have enjoyed the affection of my beloved teacher even after turning fifty. We pray to Almighty to give strength to her husband to bear this loss, for theirs was truly a love story surmounting the religious divide. May her soul rest in eternal peace!

                     (The writer is former Director, Corbett National Park; presently on a research assignment to Montana University)