Baig was fun.
Baig was incredibly funny.
He was like no Mathematician, he was not boring or serious or horrendous like any other maths teacher I have ever been taught by or met. He was so very enthusiastic and silly at times, that one wondered if he was any older than the pre-teens and teens who were his students. The boys were not easy to handle, but Iqbal had such a way with them. Some complained he was tough, some accepted his stance, others adored his unusual knack of dealing with such unruliness.
The school was one of the funnest places I have been, the students were a new species for someone like myself. He helped them seem more human and exactly what they were- young boys trying very hard to be grown ups. He tried to explain the mysterious male psyche to me, how to tackle them, how to cajole them, how to be what they needed and had to be given.
I loved this new breed of soldiers and how they brought out the best in me, but I couldn’t have had the tiny iota of success that I did, without Sir Iqbal Baig’s constant encouragement and silly anecdotes of how he ‘disciplined’ them. ( The numerous ‘disciplinary’ actions I exercised always had his blessings, boys!)
There were few who could stay away from the charm of Iqbal. He attracted frolic like bees do honey. He was himself a product of an all boys prep school, and knew exactly how each of his current students felt. He knew who they were and who they could be. He did all he could to bring out the star in each one of his boys. You all must admit this much is true.
Do him a favor, make him proud. Make him believe that he made you all better than you were, than you could be. Make his tragic and untimely demise a source of inspiration and a burst of energy. Be it mocks, o-levels, A or the rest of your lives, be the men that he wanted you to be.
Be another Iqbal Baig.
Or at least try.