Good Old Days

The year gone by that is 2010 has earned me the sobriquet “Budhapa”, courtesy, Kaki, my wife. I do not know how she came to use this nasty word to describe me when I have a very flattering opinion of myself despite the mirror telling otherwise and simply confirming and endorsing the above description. But then ageing is not a sin but only a natural phenomenon engulfing and enveloping all of us. Taking the words of my wife at face value even though reluctantly have made me more nostalgic and frequently I am transported to my school days, by far the best period of my life. I am particularly reminded of one Mr. Duggal, our Maths and English teacher, who came to teach us after retirement from some Govt. institution and obviously was in his sixties at that time. He had a beautiful handwriting and wrote in italics. He particularly enjoyed teaching us Tennyson’s poem “Lady Clare” and appeared his best romantic self. When in a bad mood , right at the beginning of the period he would catch hold of a ‘victim’ and on very small pretext would give him a slap and every time passing by him would repeat this , at the same time mouthing some choicest expletives. Some times when the students requested him to tell some story or recite some poem, he would recite the gems of poetry that I would like to share with the readers :

लाखों को मिटा कर जो हजारों को बना दे

इस को तो मैं दुनिया की तरक्की न कहूँगा

जिस रोशनी में लूट ही की आपको सूझे

तहजीब की मैं इसको तजल्ली न कहूँगा

नाज़ुक खयालियाँ मेरी तोड़ें अदू का दिल

मैं वो बला हूँ शीशे से पत्थर को तोड़ दूँ

एहसान नाखुदा का उठाए मेरी बला

कश्ती खुदा पे छोड़ दूँ , लंगर को तोड़ दूँ

In fact this is my tribute to him !