Sinister Studies

A Poem dedicated specially to students and based on my past experiences…

Scribbling down the notes from hell

I think about Cellular Jail

And staring at those evil eyes

On which I try to emphasize


That short, white & bearded man

Whom we address as ‘sir’

Initiates from washing brains

Till my memory goes blur


Those voices beaming in my head

Making me utterly sad

Its making me idiot not wise

His criticism feels vice

The heaps of books,

The stack of papers;

The pathetic notes,

Dangerous than daggers.


Why so much agony?

Not reflecting any irony

The ‘sir’ asks us whether things are clear

Honestly my brain was in 1st gear

So you could not clear our concepts

Because of your chapter attacks

He asks whether it makes sense

Not at all… you make us tense

He asks if we got idea of ‘debtor’

I was busy doodling your stature

He asked me fixed asset

I stood without rest

I looked in his eyes

I knew I was wise

I replied with confidence

Like if it was a conference

I was right and so I sat

Went to home I thought that

If he wouldn’t have burdened

We wouldn’t have surrendered

To the tough ocean of knowledge

And had enough courage

To speak in front of class

To speak up for the mass

So I finally I know I can’t deny

That he made our life

Need to salute that clever man

Who taught accounts in short span

To paranormal creatures from hell

Who despise him despite how well

He taught accounting to us

Without any kind of fuss

So well that we can do

Old accounts of Waterloo….

(Sorry the last line is damn cringe-worthy 😉 )


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