English Medium School And A Trial And Tryst With Englishness, The Wisps And Whiffs Of It In India Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

English Medium School And A Trial And Tryst With Englishness, The Wisps And Whiffs of It In India/ Coming Sir, Going, Sir
Coming sir,
Small-small boys and girls saying,
Coming into,
Seeking permission from,
May I come in? ,
Saying the matter
And going with the word,
Going sir.

Thank you,
Thank you,
I saying thank you,
You too thank you to me,
Who is whom,
God knows,
But thank you, thank you,
Come you with thank you
And exit you with thank you.

My friend, I thinking you,
You thanking me,
I welcoming you,
You welcoming me,
I greeting you,
You greeting me,
If Johnny is my name,
What of yours,
Bundleboy, call me?

But O, my God,
The older students
Smoking a cigar,
I mean the plucked students,
Dropped and failed,
Somehow continued in,
Looking older for spending more in after
Nursery One, Nursery class Two then One?

They rehearsing an English drama
As a playboy and a playgirl,
Speaking in English,
The function going on
And we the foolish and backward Indians,
From a small town
Having trouble with
The Englishmen,
Not they,
But parents of the English boys and girls?

The clerk who had been bogus and blunt,
A dolt,
A dullard and a blockhead,
A third division matric
Or a simple B.A.
Too thinking himself
A promoted sectional officer,
A steno sahib
As has learnt English
And can be no less than,
Ever ready to accept the additional work
Of a reporter or a correspondent.

The Indian clerk with the joker's moustache,
A little bit
On the lizardy face
Thinks himself a great man
Which but his grandfather too would not have
That his grandson would be
An Englishman,
An Englishman in India,
Using please, thank you, so nice of as mimic man.
Good morning, goodbye as a joker.

Come here, sit down,
O, my God, sometimes slipping to spell,
O my Goat,
Again holding back,
The click of the tongue,
Thank you,
Tank you, tankqu,
Sorry, sorry,
Sorry sir,
Oh, today, what has it happened to me,
I am making one mistake after another!

Good morning sir,
Having said it, he thinking,
Should the first meeting be greeted
With good morning
When it is night,
When to say good day,
When good afternoon,
From 12.00 noon
Or 12.o1 onwards,
Good evening from when
And good night?

The clerk running after the principal,
Into the toes of his
Like a joker, a comedian,
A circus clown
After the actress,
The artiste,
Yes sirring the principal,
Going after,
Asking to wait,
Debarring from meeting.

The principal too posing like a father,
But is not a missionary father,
A pastor or a clergy,
But is not
From his heart within,
Pontifical and pragmatic
And Machiavellian,
A college principal not,
But a private school teacher,
Bent upon giving the touch of England,
A different clime and situation in India.

A driver's son, he was a simple B.Sc.,
Later did his M.A. in English somehow,
Started teaching English privately,
Opened a school at home
Where his father
After his retirement used to ferry
The schoolchildren,
But his younger bogus brother took over
As the principal
Just with his B.A.
To improve upon later
With purchased B.Ed. and M.A.

And the elder brother moved to
Assam and Delhi to return back
As the principal of a different affiliated school
Of the nearby area
As the residential principal
Of a private school,
Affiliated to
CBSE or ICSE,
Presuming great
For the incumbent,
The mayor of Casterbridge not,
But the return of the native
As a gentleman in hat,
Not in tribal bamboo hat.

The principal sahib going
With the ear phones plugged into
The holes
And the music going on,
Coming sir,
Going sir,
Please, please,
Kindly,
Thank you,
Bye-bye,
See you,
See you again,
Goodbye.

The scenes dancing upon the mind's eye,
The small-small children coming to school
With the parents dropping them,
Wanting to make them English,
Dress, live and design as,
Wanting to hear mama and dad, daddy,
Love you, mummy,
Mum, mom,
Dad, daddy, papa,
During the tiffin hours,
They opening the tiffin-boxes
And taking English not, Indian food,
The school breaking at four.

The children returning back
Hiring rickshaws, taxis and buses,
Some on scooters and motorcycles,
A fair-like situation,
Some hawkers there,
But the children not encouraged
To take the fly-hovered junk foods,
The clerk smiling to see them going,
Again yes sirring the principal,
Complaining him about the teachers
He is not on terms with,
The joker's son,
A dalal of some Dalal Market,
Indian stock Exchange