Swami Poem by DILIPBHASKER MATHRA

In the village school
Where I studied once,
There was a peon -
A dark faced short old man,
He always wore sandal wood paste
On his wide forehead
And had white beard
Those were like silver filaments
So every one called him ‘Swami’.
He prepared noon-meal
Yellow Uppuma and powder milk
Daily in the school kitchen
For the poor children who studied there.
I liked him very much
As he was so kind and generous.
When I reached the school early
He employed me in the kitchen
To lend some help to finish his work
And before I move to the class
He gave me something to eat.
At noon when the classes over
I helped him to serve the noon meal
To the children sat in a long line.
He was the spirit and life for
Hundreds of us as he cooked
And served Uppuma with hot milk.
Everyday in the morning
He reached the school early,
Swept the rooms, arranged and
Dusted the benches and desks
Kept ready the office registers
Adjusted the school clock
Which some times became slow
Then engrossed in the kitchen.
I remember
On a pouring rainy day
When I came to school completely drenched
He scolded me daintily
Then rubbed my hair hurriedly
With the white towel of his
And told me to sit by the fire
To get my cloth dry well.
He dried my wet books
And put all in to a plastic bag -
‘Always keep in it
Your books never get wet’
He said and patted me in affection
As if the son of his own.
I recall - once after a vacation
When the school re-opened
I hastened early as usual
To help swami in the kitchen
But Swami was not there.
Instead I saw another man,
An unfamiliar figure stout and fat
His curious look and sluggish movement
Kneaded a sudden hate in my mind.
There was fear and wonder
‘Where is swami? ’ I asked.
‘He has gone on transfer’
He frowned and replied.
My heart numbed in despair
And awful agony subdued my spirit.
When the school bell rang
I sat in the class in distress
With empty stomach and gloomy heart
And in the noon of long break
I struggled and sat in the line
With other children to eat the non-meal.