Classmates: Who is? Who is Not?

From Right: Omar Esmail, Azad, Rizgar, Me, Deepan, Sabin, Kamal, Omar, Senior(Elizabeth), Bejeta, Madam Mamta, Madam Chitra

(The article below is the views and personal expressions of the author, and it may not be always true. They are very far observation and don’t intend to hurt anyone explicitly or implicitly, especially some of our best friends).

Azad has an A-plus height

And if he ever happened to be in the army

He would be the first one to die

Because an enemy would see him gangling from afar

(Sorry Azad, you are the best guy):

Except for attending class often is an admitting Achilles heel.

Bejeta is a backdrop of topical blazon

Catty is the way she barks

She can be sometimes haughty

There is something she believes it not,

Not even to good boys, I don’t know why

If you ask me.

C, there is no ‘C’ name in the class

So, I have a good chance to write;

Write about the common things about the class

But there is no common thing as such in the class

All things are uncommon

And you cannot describe as such.

Deepa is a difficult girl to deal with

I often see her serious

Minding her business

A kind of deliriously dolorous

Look at her eyes

You will know she is burning her midnight oil.

Here comes deadly huge Dildar

I’m always scared of him;

That one day he would box me

And I wonder, if Mr. Doc could fix my bones

But Dildar wouldn’t do such things

He is the most delightful and dependable person

He wouldn’t tell a lie, if everyone does to me.

E, there is no ‘E’ name I ever heard from the class

I don’t want to show my ego

By writing that everyone doesn’t like

But the fact is; there is someone with ego amongst us.

And here comes ‘F,’ the failure

The thought of it shakes with fright

To fight with failure is to study only

There are some who fight tough

But still flunk.

G, when I think of ‘G,’ only one thing comes to my mind

The great shakers of boys

The girls, of course

There are four girls in the class

I think some love lady Gaga too much

Or some the latest Gangnam style.

H, is a humbling class

But sometimes it becomes a horrible humdrum

Because of some students picking holes in uselessly

I think some of us badly need hemlock.

I have no say, everyone has hundred % rights.

And here comes ‘I,’ everyone is ‘I,’ an individual

I is ill-fated students taught by ill-equipped lecturers

And I can imagine a kind of ill-assorted future for all of us.

J, what a jerk?

Keep eyes on some jabbering jerks

They believe, they are jack of all trades

But, when it comes to doing something

They are empty jars. Move on…

To ‘K.’

Kamal's presence is very much necessary in the kangaroo court

The class would go wild with him

The lecturers would give half of the class

And another half would be his

And Dildar would close his eyes and ears tight.

Such a loquacious man

Who loves a killer looks?

And I personally is interested to add something to this K

There are some students as small as kids

And they do everything;

Killjoys; kickers, kissers,

And kudos, I am not that good at either of these things.

L, I will be very laconic here;

As some people only think of love

And have lachrymal in their eyes

I doubt someone is a ladyboy from the class.

M, yes, Mohamein is a small mombati in the class

He would attend a week less class in a semester

And he would easily pass

I ‘m a fan of him

I 'll try to follow his absenteeism from next semester.

N is for Najiba, a nice woman

Needless to say, she would do her needful

Who would have forgotten to nag,

and drag the whole-class like some.

Believe me; she is unbelievably logical and true.

Oh, here is O…Omar, a tough guy to take into consideration

The future onus of PM of the country falls to him

When he hasn’t had an even-odd job now

Some day, someone will write an ode about him, I guess

But for now he treats class like an open market

And moves off and on, out.

You know, we have two Omars, making Omar square

And this one is Omar esmail, whose action speaks louder than words

He would throw his hands hard like playing coins

And he opines and oscillates on his opinions

He would say, “Hi Sabin” many times till Sabin would be fully tired replying

Then he would sit

And poke his opinions and move out, outside.

P, here I got to play with some words again

P is Penjor, one of my colleague teachers in Bhutan

He pokes his nose everywhere;

In the playground, in clubs, in dancing, with ladies, with boys, in meetings, in eating,

Everywhere, he seems really versatile, but not so as you have thought

He blacks his face everywhere, so he would be in everyone’s black books

You know what everyone silently called him;

 “Phallus Penjor,” is what they shout from behind the mountain.

Q, let me not quack here more

And move quickly to R

And this R is quite an interesting to read.

Rizgar is a rabble-rouser

Who seems to run the race faster than others?

What a rack? He thinks he knows everything

And comes to the class without anything, not even a pen.

God forbids, alas! He flunks acheo!

I like your funny rags.

Saacha is me, a sophisticated guy

I sometimes cannot understand myself.

I wonder sometimes whether I am on Mars or Earth

And the worse, I have four balls

And this is why I believed that I am an alien.

Here is another S, not me, it’s Sabin

Sabin is always on travel, with her sachet

Ready to move, move from the tedious class

I think Saturday is her best day.

She maybe physically little sore

But I think her heart is as white as Maida flour

She has been looking for a boyfriend

Just like me looking for a girlfriend!

And here is another S.

The greatest news for letter S is that

Is that…the highest number of names begins with S in the world.

So is it, who cares?

Srinath presence doesn’t make much hues or cries

He is a dead log

He comes and goes like a wounded dog

He tries out hesitatingly to poked out

But lecturers hectoring would trim him nowhere. Pity na.

T, now it’s time to say Tata.

No.  Where are U, V, W, X, Y, Z?

They are in the above line

No need to talk about Umbrella, Virgin, Xanadu,

 because after Y, there comes Z, Zamindar, who would come and collect all money for reading this Zany article.

Five Dons of AIMS: Some Interesting Facts about My Professors

We encounter many teachers throughout our years of schooling. Most of these encounters gradually become ordinary and fade into insignificance as we progress in our careers. Yet I believe that our teachers deserve far more admiration and gratitude than we typically offer—for they shape us in ways we only recognize years later.

Many great teachers have made an impact on my life. Most of them have been kind, hardworking, and patient—possessing every quality a good person should have. They appreciated me, motivated me, and helped me find my way. They were epitomes of virtue, and simply by watching them, I learned to be more patient, caring, and empathetic. Today, I am grateful to have had such wonderful teachers who left lasting marks on my life.

Through my years as a student, I have come to understand that a good teacher requires more than just subject knowledge. A teacher needs the ability to deliver engaging lectures, a sense of humor, and a vivid teaching style that brings life into the classroom. A teacher with humor not only enhances the relationship between students and teachers but also transforms learning and studying into something fun and joyful. Moreover, a humorous teacher can make students pay more attention in class—because laughter, after all, is the best attention-grabber.

Five Dons of AIMS

To pay my respect and homage to my past and present teachers, I have briefly described (having nothing much to do today) my current batch of professors. The views below are purely personal expressions, and they may not always be true. These are my distant observations and are not intended to hurt anyone, explicitly or implicitly.

1. Mr. Prabha: The Humorous Critic Mr. Prabha is as humorous as his looks suggest. I think he was Charlie Chaplin in his previous birth. I still remember him once imitating Chaplin's walk perfectly in class. My first impression of Mr. Prabha was that he seemed callous and harsh. He frequently throws out remarks like "foolish" and "useless," and he always finds the negative side of even the most positive things. For example: "Gandhiji was great, BUT…" "Your answer is okay, BUT…" There is always a but. I think half of his mind is filled with that butt!

He tries to teach us Derrida's critique of criticism—one of the most head-breaking theories. And I'm afraid he does that successfully. He is not an easy person to argue with. Last time, one of the most talkative students in our class argued with him about something (I can't remember exactly), but Mr. Prabha's cogent counter-arguments turned that student's face as red as a ripening apple. Mr. Prabha is the most reliable teacher in the college. He follows his daily plans precisely and sincerely. Yet he can sometimes be as careless and mindless as he can be disciplined—I don't know why. He talks and talks and talks on a topic, sometimes making the topic itself seem useless. But I will say this: he cleverly watches every individual student, especially the girls (hahaha). He knows who has understood the lecture and who has merely been pretending to listen.

Mr. Prabha has also presented himself as a scholar of other subjects and areas. He is something of a jack of all trades. He not only teaches us American literature but also Post-Colonialism, Literary Criticism, and Gender Studies—though he himself has confessed that he cannot teach Linguistics or grammar. I think he is well-rounded in his own way. Just as teachers love well-rounded students, I also admire a teacher who is well-rounded across multiple areas. A small note to Mr. Prabha: You are the teacher who can stir and shake the milk very well. We understand your lectures better than we (or at least I) can understand you. You are a great critic, but (I use your word) please try not to demotivate us with the negative beliefs of your own understanding. I personally like your personable way of cracking satirical jokes and asking rhetorical questions to brighten the atmosphere. Life is a mixture of great varieties—both positive and negative. Thank you for that.

2. Mrs. Mamta: The Elegant All-Rounder Mrs. Mamta is another all-rounder professor. She is very pleasing to the eyes of any beholder. Her demeanors are as elegant as she is. She will say "Hi" if you pass by her. She is good. Truly good. I would like to sum up madam in one sentence: you possess the best qualities that a human being should have. Just last week, a friend from another department told me how kind you were to him. I feel lucky to have you as a teacher so that I can instill some of your good values, habits, and work ethics into my own future students. But before that, I must first instill them in myself!

Mrs. Mamta is sometimes humorous, especially when she contorts her face after hearing unexpected remarks from students. She has a habit of folding her hands, resting them on her hips in a typical manner, and making a comical face. I like it. She wears colorful traditional saris most of the time.

Mrs. Mamta has also presented herself as a scholar of other subject areas. She is another jack of all trades. She not only represents the English Department and fights on its behalf but also teaches us American Literature, Post-Colonialism, Literary Criticism, TELL, and has even tried her hand at teaching us how to answer examination questions. She works very hard. I have seen her textbooks filled with colorful marks and paper notes stuffed between the pages. I think she is truly an all-rounder. Just as teachers love well-rounded students, I admire a teacher who is well-rounded in all areas.   A small note to Mrs. Mamta:

You are the teacher who can speak eloquently. Your sweet speeches and presentations thrash and crash through even the most difficult topics. Thank you, and thank you for giving concern to every individual in the class.

3. Mr. Samuel: The Vanishing IntellectualMr. Samuel is a lost guy from the college. If you are looking for Mr. Samuel, you must arrive before everyone else wakes up. He is present in the college for only a short time in the morning. Then he vanishes for months—off to evaluation duties, we are told. And when he returns, he opens his mouth wide in a big "O," bulges his eyes in great surprise, and asks, "What happened?"

He has a great sense of fun hidden inside him, and he unleashes it often during his limited time in the classroom. He looks very intelligent and kind of high-class—a high-flyer, if you will. He looks especially great when he wears his spectacles.   Mr. Samuel is a very friendly person. I know that for a fact. He speaks in a seemingly superficial way, but his words are full of deeper meanings. He is very trimmed—a kind of brief-loving person. "Take it easy," he says. But life is not that easy, Mr. Samuel. His first and second semester teachings were far better than his third semester offering, Linguistics. I think he is dwindling, and I am afraid he might not even turn up in the fourth semester. Let us pray. In fairness, I think this is not entirely his fault—the blame always goes to the administration for not providing us with proper classes for many lecturers. 

Mr. Samuel has a vast store of knowledge. He knows his stuff. He is confident. Only recently, I chatted with a classmate and said that Mr. Samuel has the potential to be the best teacher, if given the chance. Regardless, you are already one of my best lecturers and role models. There is something in my mind that keeps asking me to book your ways. Only some people can truly affect you. Thank you, Mr. Samuel, for your impact.

4. Mrs. Parveen: The Worried Guardian Mrs. Parveen possesses so many good qualities: tolerance, kindness, sympathy, empathy, and more. I admire her most for these. I have not seen many teachers like her. She has been trying her level best. Her teachings were well organized and well arranged in the first semester and the first half of the second semester. She used to prepare thoroughly and present well using a projector. I don't know why, but the third semester has been tiring for her. Like Mr. Samuel, she is also busy with evaluations, and you cannot catch her even with a spy trap.   Mrs. Parveen sometimes treats her master's students like elementary schoolchildren. She scolds and bullies for no apparent reason. She once picked up a stick and threatened us—though it became more of a joke than a real threat. Many students hardly listen to what she says. Because only a few pay attention, there is always a small remark about her at the end of each class. The big mouths complain that she has not taught them anything or provided any notes on the topics.

Mrs. Parveen is as worried as her students about exam results. She pokes her nose into the exams, clears some doubts, and then disappears. All of us smile at her goodness. But for this third semester, the subject TELL has become a real HELL for some people—especially those who have not attended classes and those who took her lectures too lightly. No worries, though; it's all about teaching methods and some mechanisms of teaching. I myself have not even lifted any Xeroxed papers. I have decided to look at the topics and bluff on the paper. That's it. I shared this happy news with a friend yesterday, and guess what he said? He limped high and declared, "Let's go to the party!" It's party time, Mrs. Parveen. Don't worry too much about your subject, and no need to poke inside the examination hall this time. This time we have to drag Mr. Samuel instead (hahaha). We'll do it, madam. Thank you for making us—or at least me—do things for ourselves.

5. Mrs. Chitra Das Gupta: The Sweet Critic Mrs. Chitra Das Gupta is a dolly and jolly lecturer. She left us in the middle of the semester, leaving us in a rolly-polly mood. Now that she has left, I don't feel like writing about her. I don't understand why teachers of critical subjects must always be taken out of the ring. Now she criticizes us from a long distance. She has a vast knowledge of English, and I deeply respect her.

Mrs. Chitra has a peculiar habit of conducting hush-hush business. I sometimes wonder whether it is her secretive nature that keeps her from being seen around the college. She dares to do it right in front of the class. She will place her palm on the side of her mouth and whisper to a certain group of students. Don't whisper, madam—even walls have ears.

Mrs. Chitra was a great teacher, except for her tendency to repeat herself. She would sit and mull over certain lines again and again—most of the time straying outside the topic. Her favorite lines were, "Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, little star…" I remember she would repeat these lines no fewer than three times in a single class. Her examples were sometimes very limited to this twinkle rhyme and stories from her family life—especially about her husband. I miss you, madam, and I hope your husband is doing well.

Mrs. Chitra was a generous woman. If there is one thing I truly miss about her, it is her sweet ladoos. She would bring ladoos and other sweets once or twice a week. I regret now that I ate her sweets and had nothing to give her in return. Only after she left did I understand how good sharing truly feels. Thank you for sharing—sharing criticism as well as ladoos. You have taught me to share.

Teachers have the very important responsibility of shaping the lives of impressionable learners. With this responsibility comes great pride and great joy. Therefore, all teachers should strive to become what is considered a "good teacher." A good teacher can be defined as someone who constantly pushes students to do their best while simultaneously making learning interesting and creative. A positive or negative influence from a teacher early in life can have a profound effect on a child's future. The five professors I have described here—each with their quirks, their humor, their flaws, and their greatness—have shaped me in ways I am only beginning to understand. They have taught me not only literature and criticism but also patience, empathy, resilience, and the value of sharing (both knowledge and ladoos). For that, I remain forever grateful..