The teacher


He used to walk into our classroom,

In white clad, transparent Dhotis,

With a serious face, chewing something,

With only a chalk in hand to draw the figures

Talked few words explaining flawless figures

Held out breaths for 45 minutes,

The nick name, “scientist” fitted to him,

Still he motivates me as a teacher.

We were unable to misbehave and wondered

at his marvelous knowledge of the subject.

His teaching was not cheating,

Not indeed beating anyone else,

He was cool and composed,

And he controlled the class with is persona.

Though he inspired my friends and me,

I failed to notice the perspiration behind.

And  after taking up the same profession,

He is still a dream to be fulfilled.

He drew the right and left ventricle of the heart.

We didn’t have anything to by heart.

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