Posted by: Ron DuBour | August 12, 2017

MY MAROON SHIRT~by Balachandran Nair




I’m thirteen, the doyen in class seven
Out of forty in class, eighteen are girls
I’m a loner in last bench’s corner
The one n only with maroon shirt uniform.
Our Principal had a wonder idea,
Proclaimed ‘who score high will have white uniform’
One by one pupils won white uniform
I was alone left with a maroon shirt.
Teacher, morose, marooned me to last bench.
Whenever teacher ask me question,
I swither, fumble…girls titter, laugh!
I smile inside, these poor seldom know
That I’m lone son of a poor peasant’s widow
Help mom crush road metal all mornings,
Sweating, no time for bath, put my uniform,
Run for school hungrily, unlike those gifted,
So a maroon shirt suits me more than a white!
I project myself as a maroon, I’m not, I listen
Now school bosses threaten to throw me out
To safeguard 100% winning streak intact.
Poor they forget sugar is stored
In flaxen bags and jute sacks as well.
Let my colleagues make doctors, engineers
I stick to my mom loving, stronger in heart
Who teach me handle a paddle in paddy
I’m certain, I get blessings of my daddy.



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