Sir

There, adjacent to courtyard, stood a bathroom
Under sheet-metal roof.
Waiting in verandah for our sir to start to coach,
We boys were four.

Sir came out of closet after taking a bath,
Searched for his lungi lest it hangs in wire
Meant for spreading clothes to dry up.

Not finding lugged down his wife’s blue underskirt.
Sat down on floor among us deserting hair uncombed.
Soon after a drinking glass ends its flight up at the plot.
Then water pots and sort of households one by one.

The lady appeared with a stirrer hot in her hand
And pressed it on bare back of sir.
Then and there a deep burn-spot reveals self conspicuous.
Sir went inside to put some burnol on his wound
And came back to math-work, we all got involved.
Only some whines in his mouth were in surplus!

Later he laid down his neck on a railway track.
Not the head but his right hand was severed off.
Now at this stage of my life I can see my limbless sir:
Standing upright on the moon.

When the moon floats down to spend
Her time under my pane,
I can hear my sir still whines
Calls me on: O pupil, O my boy,
Yep! It really burns, please put some
burnol  if you do have within.