The Story of a Proffeser by Rabindranath Tagore

First Chapter

I had a special status in my classmate's college. Everyone considered me to be all about equality.

Its main reason, it was wrong and I had an opinion on everything. Most people can not say yes and no force, I used to say that very much.

Not only that I had taken the opinion of myself, I used to compose myself; I used to give lecture, write poetry, criticize, and, in all respects, my classmates became jealous and respected.

Finally, I could come out of the college, leaving my greatness great. But in the future, my fame came to the college, holding a statue of a new professor.

The young professor of our time is a famous man of today, so even if he conceals his name in my biography, his bright name will not be particularly damaged. By observing his behavior towards me, in present history, he will be called Baiyamatan Babu.

It is not that we were older than us; Shortly after the MA. Tony Sahib first came out of the examination and came out with special praise, but how did he think of him as a brahmacha, very distant and distinct, we would not have felt as contemporary as our age. We used to call him as a brahmanaditya by the neo-Hindus.

We had an argument. I am Vikramaditya of that meeting and I was the nawab of the meeting. We were thirty-six people, in the case of excluding thirty five people, there would have been no harm, and as many as thirty five people had the same idea about the eligibility of the remaining one.

On the occasion of the annual session of this meeting, I wrote a very good essay by criticizing Karlie. I was convinced firmly that, in his extraordinary manner, he would be amazed at listening - he was about to be amazed, because, in my article, Karlil condemned from the beginning.

He was the president of the session, Baiyapan Babu. When the end of the article was finished, my fellow devotees remained enthralling and uninterrupted in the sense of my opinion and the pure superstition of the English language. Baiyapatan got up and said in a quiet voice that in the essence of America's well-known writer Lauwil Sahib, the part of my article was stolen, and that part would have been better if I left my whole life.

If he had said that, with the introduction of the novelist Laurel, there was a surprisingly unanimous similarity in such a language, so that his words were true but were not unpleasant.

After this incident, there was a split in the unbelieving belief that I had in my classmates. Only me

Expanded long and did not abandon my post. But there is no satisfaction in this respect, it is empty shadow, it is the fan of the stupid devotee, it is not the bright light of intellect.