Generally Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

I
Generally, the third-classers get well-placed and established
Rather than the real and original ones,
The deserving ones
Walking the footpath edgeways,
The footpaths of life,
Living in hardships,
Earning hand to mouth.

To work as clerks and peons difficult,
But the third-classers try every sort of Lady Luck
To be established,
They will come through the peon post
And will turn into an officer of some rank.

I have seen
A throughout third-classer turning into a judge,
I have seen one marketing inspector taking bribes
But the same as a judge as for the night-classes’ B.L. degree
Changing into an honest judge.

I have seen a loafer
Threatening the fellow sitting next to him
And he copied
And turned into a junior engineer through the competitive exam.

I have seen a Sahitycharya from some Vidyapeeth
Asking the qualified M.A.-degree holder
As for not taking headmastership of the town area high school
And he will be as for his equivalent vernacular B.A. degree.

I have seen many specs-laden, olden professors
Not telling about their percentage of marks,
Whoever they might be now,
Just gravity puffs the balloon.

I have seen simple students turning into magistrates
And then promoted as A.D.Ms.,
Many collectorate clerks as crooked and screwed proud P.As. to D.Ms,
I have seen many clerks
Turning into big bankers.

I have seen many peons after their
H.S., I.A. and B.A. turning into college librarians,
Many demonstrators into professors and guides.
II
I have seen a criminal turning into a professor of English
After showing the knife to the invigilator,
Yea, the gangman,
The rustic rising to be
A professor of English,
And he will learn English of course
After being insulted into the classrooms by good students

And by the colleagues and the staff
And his subject will turn into naturally
But now I want to let it go as he is now a professor
And so I should not say about him, the man on chair and in the posting.

The chair and the company too teach a man,
Culture too refines it,
I mean the practice,
He too has some sense of prestige to smell or guess from
And keeping it in view, he will change into a professor
And the bad boy who changes a bit has the prospect of rising.

I have seen many simpletons moving out
To the north-east as for to be professors easily,
They will earn money there
And will come back to their native states
After offering Puja bonanzas.

I have seen many professors
Moving out to other university professors’ houses
As for asking them
To give high marks to their sons and daughters
And blessed disciples.

The world we live in is a world of
Scions and icons,
Heirs and followers,
Spoons and sycophants in every walk of life,
Of brokers and agents,
From the footpath men to managers,
The insurance company’s motorcycle and car presented to him
But running at my white money-bought, hard-earned petrol and diesel
And I on foot, a foot soldier sweating so much for all day labour
And he a wireless-set-keeping-radar-man flying high into the skies.