The Lament or Feeling Sorry for Oneself...

Running scared

Of being a stereotype from now till eternity............

A teacher, a preacher…whatever you call

It was a calling I have always claimed.

Not too sure now.

Whether it was just an excuse to take the easiest way

Not to stretch the mind, not to pit against the best.

The students get younger by the day, I only older...

A race to remain young at heart, if not in body!

The limbs drag…running from lesson to lesson

The mind rebels…confronting shallowness of knowledge.

The pedagogies keep expanding, the jargons get smoother

Are we really doing anything at all?

Are they good “because” of us or “inspite”…?

The answer is no longer so strident.

Lincoln’s letter to his son’s teacher inspires

……………for about thirty seconds.

The bank statement at the month end inspires

………….till the credit card details arrive!

Alternatives must be just as mundane….

……that’s the only self-delusional comfort!