Teacher is not a Cheater

I have been a teacher and I love to be (But as of now I have been doing other works more than teaching.) I have been learning to teach. I have been showing the world. I have been creating stories, poems, and minds. I have been acting to be an ethical, innovative, and usable one. I have been listening, reading, writing, and speaking. I have been making rules for the class, games, co-curricular activities and I have been a part of it. I have been a father. I have been a mother. I have been a servant. And for all of these, I have sometimes become a scapegoat.

Teaching is good but our system is no good at all. We don’t have support as such. There is no support from parents, the government, our management and society. Last time, after my studies, the Ministry of Education and the Human Resource Officers have brutally separated my family and me and placed me in a different place. I heard similar stories from others too. I don’t know what good is there to motivate teachers.

I laughed when other office agencies tell me that they are busy. I saw them busying the whole day on their Facebooking, chattings, gamings and making josh. I cannot kill the time if I were one of them. That’s why teachers like me are overburdened with responsibilities. We are multi-tasked. We should be a housemaster, warden, matron, sports instructor, organizer, dancer, singer, kicker, baller, etc, look after co-curricular activities besides teaching. We have no time for cheating. But we are paid very low and we are only paid for teaching. Besides all, there is an indicated expectation of improving the quality of teaching and education. What else could we expect from overworked, burned-out teachers with minimal wages and no proper working space? On the other hand, we have been bogged down with obligations.  MoE must initiate some careful interventions before it's too late to retain our teachers.

Teachers live in pathetic conditions. They don’t have quarters like other departments. They live in huts (Teachers where I am working live in huts). If you look at the working rooms, tables, chairs, etc, they are miserable than many low grades servants. They don’t have computers in front of them to make notes. Teachers are deprived of many facilities, where office workers enjoy a great deal.

Less innovative and less creative heads of the school judge gurujis on the level of outbound activities, like theirs lip services, kitchen gardening, etc, not teaching as such. There are loud-mouth non-performers who get the highest grade. The good, born and earnest teachers get demotivated at least.

To be continued…

A Beauty that Costs Her Life

Did you see an ugly beautiful? Did you see a beautiful ugly? A beautiful face with the ugliest characters. There is something in this; those who are ugly have a beautiful heart and are virtuous, and those who have beauty have substandard characters. Did you notice that? I have seen it in this nothing-to-do place; a very tiny-tipsy kind of place in Yebilaptsa. I have heard people saying so often there is something missing in Khengpas, and this is really true because I have seen it. People usually work less here, and they eat more here, in fact, they drink more. They think only about now and forget completely about the future’s prospects. They are living, and they are dying at the same time. They don’t have life as such. They don’t understand life, they don’t understand love, they don’t understand feelings, they don’t understand silences, they don’t understand stances. They live a jaunty, a perky kind of life.

You cannot have a beautiful woman, a woman who is virtuous, intelligent, and makes an idealized partner in life. If you have, you have an angel.

And most girls and women in this place are a truly disgusting. They don’t have anything – let me be frank-women don’t have anything as such in them. They don’t have women in them. They don’t have the brains to compete. They don’t have the energy to move ford. They don’t have anything inside of them. Because their character is loose. So loose that may ramify them. They don’t have integrity. NOTHING, I would like to shout at them, especially to that red girl. They only have faces – physicalities. That too is truly fabricated beauty. They paint faces like objects, and when they do, they objectify themselves. And this is what women of Khengpas are, they have NOTHING, but they act they have EVERYTHING.

In my life, I didn’t believe any ears. I am a good listener, but a very bad keeper. So, I have never thought that I have my own. I didn’t own anything as such. Only did I realize that I own someone when I got married. I have my precious wife and son now. I do believe in them. Anyways, this is another side of the story.

Now let me tell you about that Khengpa girl, who has a beautiful face, where anyone would fall at first sight, but truly, she does have repulsive characters - I should say. This is a small place. But there are many fishy things going on almost on a daily basis. There would be a boy asking the cell number of a girl in a bar shop. There would be cat and rat chases. There would be a boy showing off all the loftiness of his life. This is his valiance. Now, what is her valiance?  She doesn’t deserve this page or even a word if I were to be describing her characters. She stinks on my page. But if I were to describe her beauty, the pages would flower and smell. What is this beauty? John Keats says, “Beauty is truth, truth beauty, —that is all/Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” But there is nothing true in her beauty. She has worn a red V-sweater. She has a plumply- smiley –attractive - mesmerizing face. But this red girl acts like a bitch; a hungry bitch. She drinks pegs and pegs of Special Quarial, and throws ruses at her new boyfriend. Gross. She holds onto somebody's shoulder, and she literally embraces all. What a pity? She cries like a wounded bitch without any reason. She follows the boys and goes in search of her new boyfriend. She dares to shout the name of her boyfriend in the night. She dares to run plag-plag-plag like the highwayman in the night.

One night, she fought with her boyfriend. It was just outside my living room. They quarreled for some time and they threw some punches. I pressed my face towards a window glass, and all that I saw was a redshirt girl lying on the ground, throwing her feet and arms angrily towards the sky as she was shouting FUCK YOU. And I felt she had fucked her life herself. She is mannerless, characterless, and good for nothing. She can only live by selling her beauty; a beauty that costs so much pain to be borne by herself. A beauty that blemishes her life.

It’s the Blood Not Poem

We are human and we do make mistakes, but sometimes we nimble on tiny one and do not bother about the big things that encompass us. This smallest of faults takes life with quarrels, divorces, and suicides. The poem talks about suffering while he and his wife misconstrue. The misunderstanding is created because of not knowing ‘Who they are?’ The sharing and trust also matter to have no broken heart. The poem is the reflection of what I feel, and what I have seen over the fences.

 

My tears roll on this page

As I am made to

A sentiment overflows unceasingly;

So painful to take

My life’s thwarted

Lacerated.

I am living to die

I can’t change

Only you can

The dark lines will live;

This faded excitement,

Dimmed view

This dullness

I can’t see

Why can’t I?

What have I done?

Was I very unlike self?

Can’t you cry?

Seeing the falling;

Have I wronged you?

My so many wrongs

Have broken me by your one wrong;

You separated me

This one is brutal.

Now I drink my teardrops;

Drinking it to stop,

But it flows

And on my face its burrow.

It’s fickle, lost and nervous,

Lifeless and oblivious,

Creating enemies with this surge

I blame, this I disparage;

Is my fate destined to be?

Why I am here?

Why I came?

I don’t know.

I am now pointless;

Wandering in a wondering street

Seems flying to the dreary places.

Lack of your love

Droopily I wander

Kicking the block of bricks,

Punching the remains wall

I don’t sense the hurt

I wound my skins red

I sprint to and fro

What place is this?

People pass by

I drift through the swarms;

Nobody bothers to give a glance,

Nobody heeds what’s next to

I am a single in the mass,

I feel, because you singled me out.

My feet took on

And the aches pass on

Days scratch me down

I focus on, but useless

To me, it’s theirs;

This world of charms and jollities

I am away from this magic of living

And in the angle of miseries.

Depressions hover me,

It fogs up with so many reasons for

We shouldn’t have been separated;

What will happen to our kids?

And the trust of our relatives?

To you and me;

To meet, and memories,

Attachment and affection

Every detail will slowly killed

Now those relationships crushed me

I have been so attached,

I call back howling,

Flinging my body on the floor

Love kills me

My skulls break

Why is life cracking like this?

Why is life created like this?

I didn’t craft this situation

Nor anyone’s art.

It’s the movie

And it has reached to climax

To lay myself

Buried

Dying like a cat,

Freeing from everyone’s care and burden,

Since I have been a poor man

I was unmatched to be well-off

And I wasn’t suit to be a husband and a father

And I wasn’t made to love.

Let me lay now,

As distorted man has no heart to give!

Nobody disturb the depraved corpse.

What sin had I committed?

The offense of loving!

The sin of unapprised reciprocal care?

The fault of fathering offspring?

The failing of keeping silent?

Everything happens in life

But not in loving!

I am dead of my sins

These sins make me mad

Atoned me for if I had wronged.

But don’t you know these are our sins?

Don’t you think these are our lives?

I hark on others live;

They say the interferences, the obstacles, the rebukes

Are the parts of lives?

Each one has restricted love

Further by their children

They keep on together

They know each other.

You said and I said, we have;

Sharing, understanding, saying we can grow again

By and by, you must know me

And I must know you

Who am I?

Who are you?

Where do things go wrong?

I knew not you or me

That’s where we got wrong

Sensible, a person must in whatever

Sense is an affair reality

We cannot lead a poetic life

As all people grave down

I have mind now

And I feel I cannot live

It’s hard to live without you

The distance I keep now

Is the millions of years of distance?

The gap between us

The gap between our children

Is the distance of shade?

The gap is a piece of shade.

As you wish

As you wanted me to separate

These distance and gap

The spaces and mountains

Between us is unbearable

When you had told me dithering words

When your father told me to get a divorce

I did what you desired

I asked what I needed

But you fell to provide me

For the love of you

I did everything.

I am a nag, I nag

But now, here I cry

I cry

The songs I hear make me tears

The room I live makes me submerged

I am crushing

In-between two walls

I am bleeding

My blood are all tears

Our children are also crying

You may be crying

Our children might be longing for sweets

What made you cry?

Here I am having sleepless nights

Turning round and round

Glimpsing about the incidents

The incidents that we had created

To go all underground

It came vividly on the walls

You may say, “I am unlike others,”

We are different

But we are bounded by one

Unbreakable love.