They Never Really Leave

_{Acting Principal as Head Girl with Mrs. Kulwant Virdi on Teachers’ Day, 1991}

Article by Jasravee Kaur Chandra

Uprooted: The Little Girl Who Wanted To Go Back

“I don’t like it here. I want to go back,” the little nine-year-old me cried. The 1984 riots had forced my immediate family and me to relocate from Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, to Ludhiana, Punjab. I felt uprooted from everything familiar.

I’d left behind not just my cousin playmates, dearest friends, and loving, appreciative teachers , but the very texture of my identity: even the scent of flowers my father and I would pick while waiting for the school van. The world expected me to treat Guru Nanak Public School in Sarabha Nagar as “business as usual”, but I couldn’t make sense of it. I cried myself to sleep almost every single night for six months (my mom confirms).

What slowly shifted everything was how our new Principal Ma’am, Mrs. Kulwant Virdi, saw and responded to this sad yet bright girl.

The Head Angel & Her Team

She, the head angel, along with her team of angels (Mrs Hans, Mrs Shukla, Mrs Saini, Mrs Sur, Mrs Sadana, Mrs Manjit, Mr Lamba, Mr Sidhu, Mr Gill,  Mrs. Damanjit, and everyone), made sure that I and all the children from many cities who had been displaced by the 1984 riots received love and the chance to excel.

Nurtured and Bloomed

Encouraged and accepted, I worked harder. I pushed myself because I wanted to be seen and heard. My ambition was nurtured and I blossomed. With help from Mrs. Shukla, Mrs. Saini, and my dad, I sharpened my oratory. I won every declamation contest—whether it was within the school, inter-school, at the state level, or even at the national level. One after another, straight gold medals. I poured all my passion into dance, music, and drama, won competitions, topped my class, and was named All-Round Best Student for several years.

Eventually, I became the head girl in Class X.

This picture above¹ was taken on Teachers’ Day, a special tradition where the Head Girl presides as the school principal. While shaking hands with me, Ma’am said, “You did very well. Mrs. Sadana told me she had approached you with a situation, and you resolved it with confidence.” In that moment, I was beaming with joy and assurance. You can see it in my face

Mrs. Virdi was watchful and wise. She was never overt, but always present.She never showered praise.

Instead, her confidence in you wrapped around you like light. It wasn’t always visible, but it was always warm and life-giving.

This image has flashed in my mind many times over the years.
Mrs. Virdi appearing in the school hallway, and something shifting in the air. Teachers and students alike would sit up straighter. Her presence commanded respect, though she never demanded it. It was a kind of poised discipline that came wrapped in even quieter kindness.

The Reunion

Decades later, I met Mrs Virdi again in March 2024. (Thank you dear Mona for making this possible.) I was suddenly a schoolgirl again—grinning, giddy, grateful. I kept saying thank you, again and again.

At one point, Mrs. Virdi asked gently, “Why are you thanking me?”
“For the many opportunities to grow,” I replied, without much thinking.
She nodded, with that familiar soft grace.

They never ever leave you
The day I came to know Mrs. Virdi had passed away, I sobbed deeply, and my heart ached for days The grief lingered quietly, haunting me over the days. The intensity of emotion surprised me. After all, it had been decades since I left school.

I’ve been wondering why her passing hit me so hard. And revisiting those years, I realised, when someone truly believes in you, you carry it like a secret strength for life.

Perhaps because belief, true belief, is rare. It needs no spotlight. It speaks in silence. 

When someone sees your possibility, and holds that vision even when you falter—it fuels you.

Like roots that nourish you, and keep you standing tall and strong

In a world full of cynicism, believing in someone’s possibility may be the most generous thing one can do.

Memories and Roots

Some memories are for the attic, Some are saved in the treasure box. Like heirlooms of the soul. They make you feel truly rich.

To all my teachers, thank you for seeing, shaping, and standing by the girl I was becoming.

Thank you, Ma’am
I also realised what I really wanted to thank Mrs. Virdi for, when I met her the other day. I say it now.

Thank you, Ma’am, for the values you instilled in us.

For shaping our minds, giving us a strong foundation, and doing it all with quiet dignity and discipline.

Thank you for being a role model, not just as a leader, but as a human being.

Thank you, Ma’am, for believing in me.