On Reading Langston Hughes’s “Theme For English B”

Deprived people are unfortunately there in every society. This is a description of a one student who comes from such a society.

On Reading Langston Hughes’s “Theme For English B”

I remember it distinctly

That I was passing on

Instructions after instructions

And wanted him to

Take them down each one of them

In his note book

So that in the moments of crisis

When he was losing hope

And when our relations

Were tense and turned sour

They were the reference points

To begin a new relationship

Or save the old one

From getting snapped.

It was then

He had come like a bird

Looking for a place

To make its nest

Or like a father trying

To gather his self bit by bit,

After his son’s death.

And sat silently

Staring with his blue eyes

Into void of

A small room of 8 * 10 feet

He neither spoke nor did he take out his pen.

He left as silently as he had come.

Next day, again he appeared

Dull and morose

As if he was weary

Of a long walk.

I twisted  my fingers

To know his purpose.

He wished to study further.

It was a surprise

Thrown at me.

For I had treated him

To be a purposeless friend of the other boy.

“Go and write a page

About a novelist. See me tomorrow,”

Said I very curtly.

He returned with a diary

At the appointed hour

With a page on Shakespeare.

Was he a novelist? I queried

He dropped his head

Like a chicken does

On seeing an eagle dawning.

“Come tomorrow

With a page on thyself;

Just about a page,

Written in one sitting,

Say your interests.”

The next day he appeared

Again at the appointed hour

And put forward

A ruffled page

On which

He had written

With confidant words

“I am a poor boy.

I travel 20 kms daily on foot.

To reach the glorious university,

Where I am treated like dirt.

I do not mind this

For I have been raised in dirt.

I am twenty eight now.

 All my classmates have left

The university several years ago

But I come back here

Every two years

Having earned some money

To pay my tuition fee.

My schooling has not been smooth but chequered

My schools were located in scruffy areas

But my spirit is indomitable

I shall give you my best.

I know Shakespeare wrote

Dramas of various types

But I have not seen

Any plays performed.

Where was the time

For this luxury?

Toiling day and night

To earn money, to pay

The bills of my ailing mother’s doctor,

Had been my priority.

I read Shakespeare’s stories

Not his plays, to answer the questions,

To pass the examination

Which I cleared every time

Not of course with flying colours

But to get me a seat

In the course I desired.

I am the only person

Aspiring for higher education in my community.

Not many are there here either;

There is none in the teaching community as well;

No wonder they do not know me

Or my parents or my struggles;

 I am writing this sitting where-

Can you guess it Sir?

Sitting in a shanty placed

Over a big drain,

Created to carry filth of the city

To the barrage near Ganges;

In the name of light

I have a kerosene lamp

And all kinds of moths

Give me company at night;

Have you ever stayed

In such a place, Sir?

How then will know my agony?

It is easy to charge me

Of not being a careful student

And not being a capable student.

I have seen hostels

Where students like me

 Can take a shelter

 By paying fees and

 Be raised like officers;

 But naives like me

Are not allowed to take possession of the allotted room.

And the warden’s apathy I understand;

It is better where I live.

I have a dream of a better life;

I have a dream of freedom

To change my conditions

I have a dream to love and be loved

I have a dream not to give up

My community but to go back to it

To live with them and sleep peacefully

When neither a policeman comes

For an unauthorized search

Nor does a hooligan extort money.

I am told if one is educated

One gets power.

I wish to taste power.

Will I ever get a chance

To taste it? Will you be another

Stumbling block on my way?

I am told, you justify Dronacharya,s every act-

Will you repeat him? Will you replicate him?

In your victory will lie your defeat;

My statues will be raised �" not yours.

Justice will be done; I have patience for it.”

This made me crazy

This made me go wild.

I doubted my qualifications to teach him

The place appeared to be sifting.

It is better to face

A challenge and change

Than to be burden with a life

Of self-guilt.

I put my signatures on his form willy-nilly.

Author's Note

Give me honest feedback about the poem.

Reviews

[Warrior]

Very awesome read. I like how your writing flows together, to make me visualize everything that's going on. Many stories on here do that, and that's why most of the stories I read on here are good because you all are very talented and gifted, I visualized everything as I was reading it. Great writing. On to another topic. I have a website where I post my short stories, and blogs on. I also have ads on the website. I was wondering if you can go to my website, and click on any ad. you don't have to buy anything, I promise you won't get any viruses, all it is is google adsense on my website, and the more clicks on the ads, the more it helps grow my website. My website is bwlawson.com I appreciate it, that you would be taking part in helping my craft, business, product, and brand grow. Thank you!

[Susheel Sharma]

Thank you so much. I'll certainly visit your website and would like to read your work and also check some advts.