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 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.

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 12^th 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.

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.