Saturday, December 15, 2012

Five Dons of AIMS: Some Interesting Facts about My Professors


We come across many teachers every day in our years of schooling. Our encounters with them gradually become ordinary and insignificant as we progress in our careers. However, I believe that our teachers deserve admiration and gratitude for what they have done in influencing us as students.

There are many great teachers who have made an impact on my life. Most of them have been kind, hardworking, and patient, and every quality a good person should possess. They appreciated me and motivated me to help in my life. They were the epitomes, and watching them, taught me and has definitely impacted my life to be patient, caring, and empathetic. Today, I’m glad that I have had such a wonderful teacher who made an impact on my life.

I have by now understood that a good teacher requires a good ability to give his lectures to his students; his humor and a vivid teaching style bring into school life by a teacher with this kind of characteristic. A teacher with humor can not only enhance the relationship between students and teachers but learning and studying can be a fun and good thing. And a teacher with humor can make students pay more attention in the class.

Five Dons of AIMS
To pay my respect and homage to my past and present teachers, I have briefly described (having nothing to do today as such) my present batch of professors. The views below are purely personal expressions, and they may not be true always. They are my afar observation and do not intend to hurt anyone explicitly or implicitly.


Mr. Prabha is as humorous as his looks. I think he was a Charlie Chaplin in his previous birth. He imitated exactly like Charlie’s walks once in a class. I remember that. My first intuition of Mr. Prabha was callous and harsh. As every now and then he throws up unwanted remarks like “foolish,” “useless,” and he has always negative sides to very positive sides. Gandhiji was great ‘BUT’… Your answer is okay ‘BUT’… And there is always ‘BUT.’ I think his half portion of mind is filled with that ‘butt!’ He tries to argue Derrida’s critic of criticism - one of the head-breaking theories. I am afraid he does that successfully. He is not an easy guy to fight with. Last time, a talker of the class argued about something (I can’t remember exactly) but his cogent arguments made his 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 but he can be sometimes as careless and mindless as he can be. I don’t know why. He would talk and talk and talk on the topic, sometimes as useless as the topic itself. He would, I would say, cleverly watches every individual, especially girls…hahaha. He knows who has understood or who has been listening to his lectures. Mr. Prabha has also presented himself as a scholar of other subject and areas. He is kind of a jack of all trades. He, not only teaches us American literature, he also teaches us Post-Colonialism, Literary Criticism, Gender Studies, but he himself has confessed that he cannot teach Linguistics and grammar and such. I think he is well-rounded in his own way. Just as teachers love well-rounder students; I also admire a teacher who is well-rounded in all areas.

Mr. Prabha, you are the teacher who can stir or shake the milk very well. We understand your lectures better than we (I) can understand you. You are a great critic, but (I use your word) try not to de-motivate with the negatives beliefs of your own understanding. I personally like your personable way of cracking a satirical joke and asking rhetorical questions to brighten up the atmosphere. Life is a mixture of great varieties, both positive and negative. Thank you for that.



Mrs. Mamta is another all-rounder professor. She is very pleasing to the eyes of the beholders. Her demeanors are as elegant as she is. She would say “Hi” if you pass by her. She is good. Truly good. I would like to sum up madam: you have the best qualities that a human being should possess. Last time, my friend who is in another department told me how good that you were to him. I feel lucky to have you so that I can instill some of your good values, habits, works, etc to my students…Oh no, before that I have to instill myself first!

Mrs. Mamta is sometimes humorous, especially when she contorts her face after hearing some remarks from students. She has a habit of folding her hands and resting her hands on her hips in a typical manner and making her face in a comical way. 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 kind of a jack of all trades. She not only represents English Department and fights on behalf of it, but also teaches us American literature, Post-Colonialism, Literary Criticism, TELL, and even tried her hands in teaching how to answers the questions. She works very hard. I have seen her textbooks with so many colorful marks and so many papers notes in-between the textbooks.  I think she is also all-rounder, just as teachers love well-rounder students; I also admire a teacher who is well rounded in all areas.

Mrs. Mamta, you are the teacher who can speak eloquently. Your sweetening speeches and presentation thrash and crash all difficult topics. Thank you, and thank you for giving concern to every individual.


Mr. Samuel is a lost guy from the college. If you are looking for Mr. Samuel, one must come before everyone wakes up. He would be there in the college for a very short time in the morning. He would have vanished for his evaluation for months. And when he comes back, he would open his mouth and make a very big ‘O’ and bulges his eyes with a great surprise. He has a great sense of fun within him, and he throws out often in his limited time in the class. He looks very intelligent and kind of high-class as well as a high-flyer. He looks great when he wears his spectacle.

Mr. Samuel is a very friendly person. I know that. He speaks in a superficial way but his words are full of meanings. He is very trimmed, a kind of brief loving person. Some lectures are as succinct as topics. He takes it easy. Life is not that easy, Mr. Samuel. His first semester and second-semester teachings were far better than the third semester, Linguistics. I think he is dwindling, and I am afraid he would not even turn up in the fourth semester. Let’s pray.  I think this is not his fault; the fault always goes to the administration for not giving us proper class for many lecturers. 

Mr. Samuel has a lot of knowledge. He knows. He is confident. Only recently, I chatted with my classmate that he has the potential to be the best teacher, given the chance. Anyhow, you are already one of my best lecturers and models. There is somewhere in my mind asking me to book your ways. Only some people can affect. Thank you Samuel for your impact.



Mrs. Parveen has so many good qualities, such as tolerance, kindness, sympathy, empathy, etc.  And I most admire for these. I have not seen many teachers like her. She has been trying her level best. Her teachings were well organized and arranged in the first and half of the second semester. She used to have prepared well and presented well with the help of a projector. I don’t know why, the third semester has been tiring teaching for her. Like Mr. Samuel, she also is busy with evaluations and cannot catch her even with a spy trap.

Mrs. Parveen sometimes treats her master students like elementary students. She scolds and bullies for no reason. She catches a stick and threatens students, which becomes a sort of a joke. Many students hardly listen to what she says, and because, a few listens to her, there would be a small remark on her at last. The big mouth would complain of her saying that she has not taught and provided any notes to them on the topics.

Mrs. Parveen is as worried as her students about the exam result. She would poke her nose in the exams, clear some doubts, and disappear. All of us smile at her goodness. But for this third semester, the subject TELL has become a real HELL to some people, especially those who have not attended classes and those who have taken very easily on her lectures in the class. No worries as such; it all talks about the method of teaching and some mechanisms of teaching. I myself have not even lifted any Xero papers. I have decided to look at the topics and bluff on the paper. That’s it. I shared this happy news to one of my friends yesterday, and guess what he said; he limped high and said, “Let’s go to the party.” It’s party time Mrs. Parveen. Don’t worry too much about your subject and no need for poking inside the hall this time. This time we have to drag Mr. Samuel instead…hahaha. We will do it, madam. Thank you for making us (me) do ourselves.



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 she has left us, I don’t feel like writing. I don’t understand why Critical subject teachers should be out of the ring. Now she critics us from a long distance. She has a huge knowledge of English, and I respect her.

Mrs. Chitra has a peculiar habit of making hush-hush business. I wonder sometimes whether it is her hush-hush things that she is not seen around the college. She dares to do it in front of the class. She would keep her palm hand 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 repetition. She would sit and mull over some lines again and again—most of the time outside the topic. Her favorite lines were, ‘Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, little star…” I remember she would repeat these lines not less than three times in a class. Her examples sometimes were very limited to this twinkle rhyme and her family lives, especially of her husband. I miss you madam, and I think your husband is doing good.

Mrs. Chitra was a generous woman. If I have something to miss about her, I will miss her sweet Ladoos. She would bring Ladoos and other sweets once or twice a week. I regret now, I ate her sweets and had nothing to give her back. I understood after that how good is sharing. Thank you for sharing; sharing criticism as well as Ladoos. I have learned to share.



Teachers have the very important responsibility of shaping the lives of impressionable learners. With this responsibility comes great pride and joy. Therefore, all teachers should strive for what can be considered to be a “good teacher.” A good teacher can be defined as someone who always pushes students to want to do their best while at the same time trying to make learning interesting as well as creative. A positive or negative influence from a teacher early on in life can have a great effect on the life of a child.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Happy Birth Day Pema Tashi

It was a great day when you were born. I can still remember the moment when I first saw you as a tiny baby, and how you took my breath away. I loved you then, and I love you now. Thank you for being with us. And I thank god for that. And as we celebrate your birthday, we also celebrate the anniversary of you arriving in the world and making it a better, happier place for us. The 12th of December is always an auspicious day for us. Now, though we are far, you are always inside me. I cry out with happiness when I hear your voices in my dream and cry out when I talk with you. You are always here. I pray for you. I miss you, my dear baby.

You have a place in the world that's unique, so many paths to walk. You have so many dreams to seek, so many talents, so much in you, that's good and right. You are the golden rays of the sun. And we know you are our heart, our loving child, and we wish you health and happiness. We will do everything for you. We will be all around you making you feel safe, happy, comfortable, and prosperous. We love you and care for you.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

My Son


My son Pema
Is a bouncing boy
He calls himself Rama
And makes Him as a toy.

His full name is Pema Tashi
He likes being called different names as Dorji
He makes the fuss of not naming him Yeshi
Better his father's last name Dorji.

I tell him his name is just a name
Don’t make on it such a nonsense flame
It’s not where you came
But you can make good fame.

His only aim is to be a truck driver
And many a trucks he brings and breaks
To be thrown down in the nearby river
He questions me, 'Is the real truck that much weak?'

He calls me Tom and himself Jerry
He calls me Eon and himself Ben Ten
We bet for the team was in a hurry
And he smacks me till I got beaten.

We are like Kenchosum, we are three;
My wife and I do everything for his happiness
For he is the only fruit in the tree
Let him be anyone for the human goodness.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Nothing


He has nothing today
Nothing exactly
And nothing more
And nothingness enshrouds him
And nothing is worthwhile
Nothing

There is nothing as such;
The sound of rustling
And nothing more
Mute, deaf, dumb and numbed, nothing
Not even a palpitation
Nothing


There is nothing in life
He is gone today
Leaving the life
Hopes, dreams and wishes all death
Nothingness is all he has
Nothing

Nothing will last to the end
It’s as empty
 as useless as
A smile a minute ago
Shifts into tears
 Nothing


The world is nothing to him;
Cannot hold, cannot play, cannot secure
It’s all nothing
As he is nothing
And everything has become nothing
All and nothingness is all that’s alive
And triumphs over something
Nothing is what his life has become now
His dreams lying cold and dead on the ground.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Who DOESN’T Try?


Time to time we get demoralized by people who are born with a silver spoon in their mouth and have everything from birth. From time to time we get demoralized by people who have achieved success to their great height without doing much. From time to time we get demoralized by people who have lots of capabilities to do everything but are left in the dust.  From time to time we get demoralized by people who have lots of love but are betrayed by the same love.  Everything is unequal and George Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm’ book rightly says, “All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.”

Anyways, life is not all about comparison.  I am not so. I look for a place or path where I can have enough space to stay or walk on. That is it. A plate of rice is enough for me.

Life will change, I thought when I was a boy, but as I realize now, it is just the beginning of overcoming trials and tribulations of life.

I cared so very much about the fruits, not about how a tree is nurtured and taken care of, and when I jump to get the fruits from an un-nurtured tree, the qualities of fruits are very dreadfully small.

Life is trying and trying and even more trying, not axing the dreams. It’s trying. I tried to do many things in my life but most of all failed and over again. I tried to work hard to reach the target I had thought but my work hung in the vacuum of nowhere; anyone hardly recognized my toils or was it an unreachable fate in my life. I tried to write but it faltered devastatingly. I am ever trying, I was hurt but I move on but the bad parts shape me into a better person as I continue to move in life. I tried liking my job but others didn’t like it the way I did work; without knowing anything, it was a fagging also. I tried to fulfill my parent's expectations but it’s putting me off to the future. They were the ones to fulfill my expectations. I tried to mask happiness but the internal force was more powerful, I am a victim of it. I tried very many alternatives to bring my life to my satisfaction, but every trying is as useless as not trying at all. The more I try, the more I have worries that anguish my problems further. The more problems I encounter the more solutions I try to find. But the solutions are far hidden behind the mountains.

God forbid me not, from not trying; I will keep on trying… I say this because when everything fails, in the end, one hope keeps me kicking; knowing that I have my family to embrace me and show me that there is still love around me. So I will keep on trying. I am not an escapee. I can’t give up easily…BUT what can I try now?
Anyways, hope keeps waking up.

And this story keeps me there is something in life; the artificially-kind of real that we need to display to live our lives forth. Here is a story: A man bought 12 flowers. 11 real and 1 fake. He said, "I will love you until the last flower dies."

And this is the irony of life; to fake and live or to live and fake.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Bad Luck


Now and then, bad luck can shame you
And make you gloomy;
The hurt in the heart bemuses and frustrates
Everything you carry out will be of desperation,
The other lot will have some criticism,
Everywhere; some bending and harassment,
Face pulls down and
Mouth shut!
All over, your act will be defective.

Everywhere you wrong;
And infects others!
 The grave is your place-
Whatever you attain or find
Turns out to be meaningless
All endeavors turn to nothing
One way or other, your people hurt you,
They go off beam,
Splitting the same smash-up.

Why do these come about erratically?
To stick with for a week or two
Every walk you walk,
Every talk you talk
Will diffuse your face
Nothing counts.
All gone astray to be dishonored;
Those push down your days
You bear wary.

When bad luck comes slithering
You’re in the chasm of omission
Nobody heeds
And nobody you can take care.

At this time, you think and think
But of all wrongs
Nothing hit!
Your world turns sinister
You cringe your mind - thick
And think
But your hurts multiply in the heart,
The thing that never will imagine beyond,
At this point, you must be more cautious and con­scious.