Janki Nath Misri’s love for English literature

 

 Janki Nath Misri’s love for English literature

In the world of literature," Janki was far more than just a teacher of Science and Mathematics; he was a custodian of worlds. While his profession demanded precision and logic, his soul resided in the boundless landscapes of English literature. This love was not a mere hobby; it was the central pillar of his identity, the lens through which he interpreted everything, from the laws of physics to the complexities of the human heart.

His command of the English language was exceptional, a finely tuned instrument that allowed him to write with equal clarity about the elegant proofs of geometry and the intricate metaphors of Romantic poetry. He authored textbooks that were praised for their lucidity, but his private writings, often shared only with trusted colleagues or particularly gifted students, revealed a deep conversance with the great philosophical and literary traditions of the West.

The heart of Janki’s home was his personal library, a sanctuary that housed over a thousand books. It was not merely a collection of books, but a meticulously curated universe. The air in the room was thick with the scent of old paper, polished wood, and a faint, clean medicinal aroma—the signature of his devotion. To protect his treasures from the ravages of time and insects, he employed a careful ritual of preservation. In the corners of his grand wooden cupboards, he would place 'Koth' (a local germicide plant), slivers of fragrant cedar wood, and small muslin bags of naphthalene balls. This was not just pest control; it was an act of reverence.

Within this sanctuary, one shelf was sacred: a special row reserved for the hard-bound, gilt-edged editions of his literary heroes. These books were not just read; they were communed with and connected with. And their lessons were directly applied to his life's mission: educating the downtrodden and poor students of the Muslim community in his town. For Janki, literature was not an escape from reality, but a guide for confronting it.

Janki’s greatest joy was guiding a curious student to this special shelf. He would take down a volume with a care that bordered on ceremony, his rough, chalk-dusted fingers handling the fragile pages with astonishing gentleness. “Here,” he would murmur, his eyes alight, “let me introduce you to Mr Charles Dickens. He has something important to tell you about resilience, or strength.” In those moments, Janki was not just a teacher of subjects, but a bridge across time and continents, connecting a young mind in a small town to the vast, enduring conversation of great literature. He was, in every sense, where the legends in his own world began to live.

His love for Charles Dickens, in particular, was deeply personal and operational. He didn't just admire Dickens’s prose; he saw in the author's life a blueprint for his own purpose. He knew the story by heart: young Charles, a bright boy forced to leave school at eleven to work in a shoe polish factory after his father was sent to debtors' prison. The humiliation, the poverty, the stolen potential, this was not a distant historical fact for Janki; it was a present-day reality for the children in his own classrooms.

And so, Janki, the headmaster, made a radical decision. He summoned the farm teachers, the staff who would collect fees, and gave them a firm, compassionate order.

“Do not force the poor for the monthly tuition fees,” he would instruct, his voice quiet but steely with conviction. “A child kept out of the classroom is a story that will never be written. Let the poor learn. Education is their rightful inheritance, not a commodity to be purchased.”

To justify this policy, which often drew criticism from the school’s management, he would tell them the story. Leaning forward in his worn-out chair, he would say, “Do you know what happened to a boy named Charles Dickens when his family could not pay? They expelled him. They took the light of learning from him and sent him to paste labels on pots of blacking (shoe polish) in a rat-infested warehouse. The world almost lost one of its greatest voices for the want of a few shillings. We will not be the kind of people who extinguish a light for a handful of coins.”

This principle animated his entire relationship with his cherished library.