I am painting a life of say 68-69 . I used to go to school not much earlier but in time most of the time as there was a prayer at the very inception stage and a teacher who was well versed in Hindi and Sanskrit used to say some words after every prayer. I will write a little later on in a more detailed manner. I used to wonder at a teacher whose name was sher singh, I believe he used to come to school from kalawali a nearby town and the rail time made him to reach probably at 7.30 AM or so. He used to sit in the lawn of the school and was often busy at some book and the like. He was an English teacher if I am not failing at my memory lane. English subject used to be a daunting task to speak like on the rustic background which I happened to be. Speaking English was as if doing some biggest possible wonder and a wishful thing only. I remember our Principal whose name could not make a place in my hard disc some time took a few classes as a special occasion to increase the result oriented value of the school. One fine day he gave us a task : write a story in English , class was 8th standard and topic was thirsty crow.
I remember I was having a small booklet in my hand strolling on the roof top of our dhobia wala mohala old house at sirsa. Next morning was the D hrs to speak like. I started my pencil but could not remember even a single bullshit word what I crammed whilst negotiating my steps and nerves put together at the roof top. Bhapi was a beautiful girl at that time but I do not remember I have ever fantasized her beauty . Some how I gathered my strength and could write a few lines only. The principal used to check the task immediately and evaluate too. I can remember he was saying its nice that you have done an original work but since its too short and skeptic you should do a little more.
I have never been a promising or bright student under any reckoning probably I told you. May be my brain was searching you to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment