Teacher

It has been a long time since i remembered my teachers.  Once in a while, when i talk to my friends- this subject turns up about our school days at V.T.College, Sriharipuram, Visakhapatnam.   Those were the carefree days - but what i remember vividly are the teachers who taught us.  Sitaram murthy -alias kepudu(he would blast once in a while) but what a teacher he is?  At the old age of 65, he used to teach mathematics with such flair and passion.   He would use nasyam(tobacco powder)in his nose.  I had this brilliant telugu teacher - anaparthi somayajulu(need to confirm his name) -alias pandudu(he has a golden complexion).  He mastered all literate in telugu, known till that date.  Our english Sir - Prakasa Rao(we used to call him Peggotty).  He was good too. Social master Jambudu was a tall man as well.  His class on political science is unapralleled.  He used to speak in whispers. My first teacher was my mother, she was very sweet.  My second teacher was my father.  

Mad Man

Dont know why I intended to write about a mad man.  But here is a brief context, everyday as i go to my office from my house about half - way i see this man in ragged clothes.  Perhaps he didn't take bath for months.  May be he was like you and me once.  How deeply can we go and analyze his mental state? What prompted him the way he is - his circumstances, this society or perhaps something else.  Does he get a head-ache sitting in the sun.  Doesn't he know that the society has discarded him?  What makes him feel bad?  Why is he looking at each vehicle passing by with such great intensity?  Is he expecting a friend to pick him up?  Wouldn't we respect the same person, if we learnt that he is a genius?  What would happen to his future?  What a pity his family has disowned him.  While these are the thoughts that cross my mind; I see him happily sitting in the hot sun, waving at everyone.  He has an innocent smile.  Is laughing at us for our