Our member Ms T. Saha, devoted close to four decades of her life to shaping young minds as a teacher. Reflecting on her journey, she shares heartfelt memories of the respect and love she earned through her career.

I was appointed a teacher at Mejhiari Chanchalabala Balika Vidyalaya, on 18 May 1976. I was 25 years old and proceeded to work there for the next 36 years until my retirement. The school was 21 km from Katwa, where I used to live. In the beginning I travelled by bus. Later I learnt how to drive and bought a Maruti 800 for my commute.

I taught English and Bengali and was adept at every subject except Mathematics. I used to dread the times I was called in as a substitute teacher to teach a temporary Maths class! In those days, teaching was perhaps the only profession which was entirely safe for women. Moreover, it was a profession which was dominated by women. For these reasons I was encouraged by my family to become a teacher. Although safety concerns played a part in shaping the course of my professional career, my love for gathering and sharing knowledge was the primary motivation for becoming an educator. I love learning, and even today I have the desire to go back to university to study History. I ended up loving teaching as much as I loved studying, and even taught for free for one and a half years after my retirement, until a suitable replacement was found.

The position of the teacher still commands respect. A month ago, I went to Katwa to close an account at a bank near the school where I had taught. I used to know most of the employees there, and only a few of them remain. As soon as they realised I had been a teacher in the nearby school, they prioritised my case and resolved it promptly. On my way back, I stopped at the school and happened to meet my old students, now proud parents of children attending the same school. They touched my feet and asked me about my health. One of them was riding by on her Scooty. She stopped beside me and, as she took off her helmet, I recognised her as one of the more reserved students. She hugged me and chatted heartily; there was not a trace of girlish shyness. It made me happy to see my students all grown up. I had tears in my eyes to see that they not only remembered me but revered me in the same way as when I taught them.

Towards the end of my career, the principal, 12 years my junior, would touch my feet whenever we met and insist that I hoist the flag on Independence Day. I would always resist this practice—it was rightfully hers—but the teaching community’s sense of seniority and gratitude is strong. I have received nothing but love and respect throughout my life as an educator. As I reflect on my professional career, I feel truly blessed and immensely satisfied.

(As narrated to Support Elders by our member)

On Valentine’s Day, it is commonplace to celebrate young love, but we turn to one who has known love for several decades. Our member, Ms. S. Dutta, reminisces about her husband and what it takes to make a marriage last a lifetime.


I married my husband on 14th December 1959. Ours was an arranged marriage, and we remained happily married until his passing in 2021. When we got married, he was studying medicine. After graduating, he began teaching at Surendranath College. I remember how, after returning home from work, our firstborn would eagerly wait to play on his father’s lap. I believe our union stood the test of time because we had unwavering faith in each other. Throughout my years of teaching at Sarojini Naidu College for Women, and later at Vivekananda College, I would always hand over my monthly salary to my husband. I never once questioned how he spent it—I trusted him implicitly. I have always had the quality of surrender; I never prioritised my needs in the marriage, and my husband never betrayed my trust. He was a quiet, submissive man, but he could be firm when necessary, though he imposed his will subtly.

One evening, we attended a musical recital at the Sangeet Research Academy. It was past midnight when the performance ended, and we walked to the parking lot found our car locked with no sign of the driver. We waited for over half an hour until he finally returned with a stranger, who then rode beside him on our way home. My husband said nothing about the driver’s disappearance or the unexpected passenger. However, the next morning—on only the 6th or 7th of the month—he called the driver, paid him his full salary for the month, and dismissed him. To my astonishment, the very next day, he sold the car. I was surprised and slightly amused—I wondered why he had not consulted me. But I did not question him, believing he must have had his reasons. Such was my trust in him.

My husband was inscrutable in many ways. He kept to himself a lot. I loved traveling and would take my daughters all over the country, whereas he was never inclined to go anywhere. Only once did he accompany me on a 23-day tour of South India.

If he comes across as a man with no interests, I should mention that he was an avid tea lover. Whenever we had guests over and I asked if they would like tea, he would chide me, saying that such a thing should never be asked—a guest should be served tea as a matter of course.

I feel lucky to have been married to a man like my husband. It took deep understanding and devotion on both our parts to make our marriage work. Perhaps it was that—and faith—without which no loving relationship can truly endure.


(As narrated to Support Elders by our member)