"A Rose for Jones Ma'am- In loving Memory of My Favourite Teacher at Fort Catholic

Some people walk into our lives softly —

Yet they leave behind footprints that last a lifetime.

My beloved Jone's Ma’am was one such soul.

She was my favourite ma’am in Fort Catholic.

What should I say about her?

Words are not enough.

An Anglo-Indian lady with a sweet, warm face…

Chubby cheeks, sparkling eyes, and a presence that felt like sunshine.

In her early days, she wore frocks — charming, cheerful.

Later, she shifted to sarees.

She looked equally beautiful in both, but I still remember how stunning she looked in a red 

saree — like a storybook queen.

She pronounced my name differently —

Greshamma — and oh, how I loved it.

A small thing, perhaps, but to me, it felt like affection wrapped in a name.

I was a quiet girl.

But she always noticed me.

Always spoke to me with kindness and care.

I knew she was fond of me… and I adored her silently in return.

In our primary school days, whenever guests or principals visited,

She would choose me to hand them the welcome roses.

Maybe she saw something in me.

A gentle confidence I didn’t yet know I had.

Later, in Class 10, she was my English teacher.

Even then, she gave more than just lessons.

She shared books, guidance, and gentle encouragement.

She never stopped believing in me.

I never got the chance to meet her again after school.

But strangely, she visited often —

In my dreams.

In my heart.

In memories that feel like blooming flowers, even now.

When I heard that she had passed away…

A quiet ache crept in.

It felt as if a beautiful chapter of my childhood had closed.

But her smile, her voice, the way she called me Greshamma —

They live on.

Dear Jone's Ma’am,

You were not just a teacher.

You were a light in my little world.

You will always be remembered with a smile… and a tear.

🌹 Rest in peace, Ma’am. You were truly loved. 🌹

Note: This is not her real photo- but a gentle tribute created to reflect the warmth and grace she carried in life."