Anupam- The Dreamer

There are a few people who leave a deep impression in your life. One of such legendary persons who was very inspirational, knowledgeable and at the same time enormously jovial was Mr. Vinod Kumar Bansal, the founder of Bansal Classes coaching institute in Kota. He was a personification of grit, determination and patience. When you first see him sitting on his electric wheelchair, you cannot be not amazed by his attractive presence and charm.  How he started the coaching classes in Kota is a memoir that I covered in another article (https://anupamsinghalthedreamer.com/2024/07/01/suicides-in-kota-the-curse-of-education-city/). So, I would take out a leaf from my previous article and continue his story.

What is the meaning of life of a person who is diagnosed with muscular dystrophy and paralyzed from below the waist for rest of his life? The first thought that will come to your mind will be of pity! But, STOP! Pity for what? Mr. Bansal didn’t ask for any and he didn’t infact need any from anyone! The pain of the disease was hidden perfectly behind his charming smile. Or maybe he didn’t want the world to see his pain, so he chose to spread positivity, hope and optimism instead through his thoughts, words and deeds.

Today, I won’t talk about his immense knowledge and impressionable pedagogy for which he earned a name for himself, in particular, and Kota city, in general as the Mecca of coaching in India. Rather I would give you a glimpse behind the personality, of which I was fortunate to see only a very small part when he taught us Mathematics during 2006-2008 in the Bansal Classes for IIT preparation (I am sure the Bansalites reading this would relate every tale).

The first thing that you notice is Mr. Bansal sitting on an automated wheelchair. Some students said that it was imported, some told that cost more than Rs. 10 lakhs. See the pic below:

That chair was fully automatic which moved with a joystick on his right hand. It could go forward and backward, it could swivel on its own axis and it moved up and down when he came to his podium to deliver the lecture so that he gets a comfortable position for writing with a blue sketch pen on a translucent paper placed on the bulb-lit projector assisted by a lens to project the image of his writing on the white board.

The coaching was in the building perfectly adjacent to his home. And he would enjoy coming from his home to the connected building passing a ramp and riding his “Throne”. One guy Mahavir was his shadow, who assisted Sir wherever he would go. Even he stood outside the class when Sir taught us and would be present on the first ring of the bell that Sir rang. Sir used to call all the girl students at the coaching as his “girlfriends”, maybe he wanted them to feel privileged and safe in the unknown city as they came from across the country at such a tender age. The girls had a special privilege in Bansal Classes- they always occupied the front seats which was forbidden for any boy student. Also, the girl students had a rare privilege of being invited by Bansal sir to his home for breakfast/lunch, which was only a distant dream for us boys. But, we couldn’t complain as the girls were only 4-10 in a batch of 100 odd students!

He once told that once a girl student was running in the coaching compound as she was getting late for the class and was unmindful of him moving around in the wheelchair. At the last moment her gaze fell on Sir and she prevented herself from falling on his wheelchair. From that day, Mr. Bansal installed a “loud horn” in his wheelchair! And whenever he rang horn, every student knew from far away that Sir is around and he/she behaved properly. Such was the aura of Bansal Sir.

During class of one and a half hour, whenever we got bored of studying, we used to shout in synchrony “Gaana…, Gaana….., Gaana……”. And Sir with his mischievous smile sometimes dropped the C****** word and told- तुम लोग मानोगे नहीं! Then, he rang the bell and called Mahavir and instructed him to bring his cherished “diary of old songs” from the home nearby. Mahavir would immediately run to the home and bring the Diary and then began the fun. We would put down our pen and then Sir would enter into a very different trajectory of music, joy and elation. He would say- पुराना गाना सुनते हो? And we responded in unified affirmation (who cared? we just wanted to listen him sing in his melodious voice). Then he started turning pages of his diary, and stopped on a song which went like:

चिंगारी कोई भड़के,  तो सावन उसे बुझाये

सावन जो अगन लगाये,  उसे कौन बुझाये,

ओ… उसे कौन बुझाये

And believe me when he sang, it was with such a joy such that he didn’t care if anyone is listening or not. There was a serene melody in his voice! And he sounded just amazing, rivalling the legendary singer Kishor Kumar, atleast in emotions that he exuberated and mood that he portrayed! I am sure that he must be practicing in is past-time, otherwise this sort of charm could not be developed overnight! This was just one of the songs that we heard from him, the list was long and we had the good fortune of listening to his other melodies when he was in a light mood.

Then, after the song, he would sometimes turn on his right and spit something on the wooden plank resting against the wall. I don’t know what was it- maybe he chewed ghutka or pan masala or something like that. You may feel what is this BS? But, to be frank, he didn’t care about what others will think! He lived life on his own terms. Also, he kept a special fly-killing plastic bat with him. And when the poor fly annoyed him during the class, he would pick that bat and kill the poor fly in one shot! And then say the cuss word again 😀

There was an invisible aura around the man. You can’t help but influenced by him in some way or the other. I loved the stories he used to tell from his rich and vast experience time and again. I will keep those for some other time….