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They sit gossiping 
around on chairs
Under shady walnut
Sh! Sh! Backbiting! 
Abusing! Loud laughing…
having fun!
A proud young man 
newly appointed
Abused his pupils in 
anger
When I in innocence 
interrupted him
And reminded of his 
class,
For the poor pupils I saw 
were waiting
Opening their books on 
their bags.

Another one, a Master, I 
saw was pulling his 
inferior female 
colleague’s arm
And dragging her in…!

A lecturer kissing his girl 
students on cheeks, 
whispering in their ears, 
and 
embracing…!

A broad shouldered tall 
teacher would kiss and 
bite
The plum-cheeks of my 
fair-looking class-
fellows,
One among now is a KPS 
officer!

An old lame teacher,
A drinker, abused the 
pupils all the time,
Often sitting cross-
legged, lighting a cigar.

O! Let’s stop it here… 
but a sick Sikh 
headmaster
Now I see had been 
highly communal
Would beat at prayer-
time
The poor pupils 
sweating in sun,
Without seeing  the 
wooden-slates
And beating with willow-
twigs their soft thighs.

Thanks to the highly 
disciplined modern 
schools
In private sector
But the curriculum be 
child centered
And not fatiguing and 
boring.

O O!  Recently I have 
heard of the teachers 
Who gave me a 
humiliating nickname,
One is shouting and 
hurling stones at people,
Another is dumbfounded, 
hardly talking to any one.
 
Whom have you hired 
teachers...?
Drivers and Boucher—
I wonder and I ponder…
But, let I at least protest.

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