Himal Limbu
O, substitution class! You are welcome Day after Day In a slip of paper
On the notice board
The writing order hangs me Choking my mood and mode
As a servile teacher. I am not ‘Me’, the ‘Me’ with my identity
The teacher of a Boarding School I am a substitution, changeable one. Proxy teacher of another teacher
Substitution of his body substitution of her mind
As an unpaid beast of burden;
I am sent to an additional class
In substitution routine
Excluding a score of classes
Of mine to be endured.
I substitute my colleague for a period, for an hour not as a puppet but as a power
To control the vain class. In the master’s view
It’s a contribution
Or is it exploitation? As a docile teacher like me,
Suppose, the sun gets substitution in the system of solar institutionImagine; the earth has a proxy going for duty in the oxyWill all life be in chaos? Nature is no decorum? Is life itself a substitute in the soulless institute? Death is indeed noble truth is instead a smooth
Death is itself a substitute
For the life of astray and astute when Death comes as a substitute not only the teacher but all lives
Should be destitute.
So life is itself a substitute.
(Limbu is currently working as a teacher in Sainik Awasiya Mahavidyalaya, Dharan.)