eFiction India eFiction India Vol.02 Issue.09 | Page 15

STORIES Prof. Martin seemed to live to answer questions and to fuel more questions. And our best discussions happened while hiking or fishing, his students providing Prof. Martin with the family he never had himself. His door and his heart were always open for us. “Questions, guys, don’t tell me that’s enough.” He could turn each class into a debate between what was already written and what needed to be written, between the old answers in the textbooks and the new questions that research sought to find. And have you guessed what he taught? Yes, oceanography. After experimenting with Psychology, Sociology and English, I finally found my calling in the study of oceans. Despite my hatred for Geography. Despite the fast receding memories of Mrs. Globe. 14 for helping me find my twin pillars – individualism and creativity. After all, those frequent punishments outside class had started me off on my writing journey. And the questions she had never answered fuelled me through my long, gruelling hours of self-search and research. Would she recognise me now, after all these years? No, not likely. I am no longer threefeet-two-inches, no longer thin-as-the-latest-sleek-new phone. But maybe, she will, when she reaches home. For instead of signing the book for her, I drew a cartoon on the map of England again. Just like old times. Call it my signature. I found poetry in the ocean currents and felt the rage of oceans in poetry. And Prof. Martin showed me the power of questions in the field of research. *** Five years later, I was back in Bangalore for a month. My full, quirky family packed into a car, dissecting my sister’s last big medical case. As usual. We were on our way to a book launch. Mine. It would be my second published book – this one was a travelogue that demystified oceanography. Illustration: Namitha Varma Rajesh And that’s when I met her again. She was in line to get a signed copy from the author. Me. One look at her and I recognised her. Though Universe might be a better name for her these days; she has left her Globe days far behind. But then, I should not be unkind to her. I am eternally grateful to her eFiction India | June 2014