I CAN’T REMEMBER MY TEACHER.

I can’t remember my teacher

Only sometimes in the midst of my teaching

So affectionate a voice stays close over me

 

The voice calling my name that he used to take

While explaining two plus two equals four.

 

I can’t remember my teacher

But when in the early April morning

On the calm country road I sleep and dream amidst a beach of beds.

 

A pat on my back, a short journey to the town

An old bicycle with me in front, a taker of some exam

And my sweating old teacher.

 

I can’t remember my teacher

Only when I look into me as a teacher

And the pat that I give to my kids

Make me feel my teacher in me

Or else such an English teacher much too living

How can I be a naughty Village mischievous child?

          “Dedicated to all the TEACHERS who taught me in my life.”

***

-- Raghuveer.G

Asst Prof, English

Dept of H&S