A Poor Professor

Vishwa Subedi

Poet Vishwa Subedi

He had a late night sleep
Had got to go through
Many books and web pages
Preparing for the lecture
To be delivered the next day.

Hurriedly, he got up before dawn
Rinsed his mouth, refreshed
Riding his dilapidated bike
Headed to the college
For the morning duty. 
Bound to teach the class
Notwithstanding fatigue,
Had a sudden retardation 
As a deflated tire 
Quite empty inside
Couldn't perform well but
Determined to do better next day. 
Once, while he was invigilating 
Snatched copies from students 
Who were found copying others 
No sooner, he had telephone inquiries
Forcing to return copies, otherwise
He would have to lose his job.

Classes get regularly intervened
With notices for this and that purpose
Students seen swearing in indecent codes
Indifferent looks, flirting with buddies
Mobs of guys oblige the terror stricken professor
To donate for their refreshment. 
Twenty years rolled by
He never longed for 
Comfort and affluence 
Contended with the mere 
Compliments, greetings and smiles. 

The professor didn't care how
He was physically deteriorated
Had occasional chest pain and sore throat 
He knows not how he is a living hospital
A guinea pig with lots of ailments. 

Sometimes, he recalls his bygone days
His school drop-out friends are now
Making fortunes, living lavish lifestyles
Sending children to more splendid schools
Offering house-warming parties 
On their birthdays and festivals 
To their neighbors and guests.

Their lofty mansions, their accessories
Sneer at the poor professor 
How can he imagine the mockery
On his mundane existence
When he needs to go to his friend 
To borrow money for his daughter's wedding? 

The aging professor doesn't afford
A beautiful sari for his better half
Nor is there any saving and insurance
No basic pieces of furniture at his apartment 
Dreams are delayed, promises get broken
He would have been more prosperous as
A farmer with cows in the shed and cereals in farm
He would be healthier and more social then. 
Wishes for solitary retired life
Where he would be free from cacophonous 
Politically infected world of the campus. 

In the long run of his service, the professor
Didn't get any motivation, nor rewards
He burnt himself like a candle, 
Abandoned by the pupils as
A sailor by the passengers. 
He is now an epitome of sacrifice 
A veritable living martyr. 

(Courtesy: The Wild Dance)

(Poet Vishwa Subedi is the Secretary of Village of English Writers (VIEW), Chitwan. His collection of English poems The Wild Dance was published in 2013.)