The Masters I knew

There are masters and Masters

They are Masters of exceptional brevity

They are Masters who tickled our conscience

They are Teachers who school our ignorance

They are Tutors who tolerated our naughty pranks

And disciplined our silly stubbornness

They applauded our efforts and tendered our battered emotions

They taught us lively lessons

And stirred the desire of excellence in our hearts

They inspired us to aspire and improve

They corrected our incorrectness

And handled our troubles with temperate composure

Yet can we forget those who taunted the devil in us

Those who viciously abused the mistakes in our sins

Those who sorely disliked our innocence

And those who were just irritatingly boring.

The Masters I knew could smell your hissings mischief from afar

And they had nice naughty names

Names you still use because you mischievously cannot recall their right names.

So I dreaded bearing that title

I feared being called a Master but I went  

I really didn't ‘teach’ students the act of socialising their studies

But motivated them to desire learning social studies with different storylines

They came to believe that they don't understand my instincts

But somehow understood the depth of the inspiration I sang in the arid air

And I believe I was successful at doing this.

Can I forget the Masters I knew?

The Teachers who guided and challenged me

The Tutors who listened and tried suggesting answers

The Lecturers who helped me to grow

I salute you all my mentors and Coaches

I will always remember you.

God bless you, My Masters.