“The Invigilator’s Musings”

I stand here in a large room,
On vigil for the students who write the exam.
A room, with a lot of chairs,
The chairs, occupied by the students.
The students – Some lean, some fat,
Some excellent, some averagers, some worriers,
While some relaxed.

The room, filled with silence,
With the only sound of flippering papers.
Students of all streams, I have in my room,
Their exam is from morning to noon.
Some write Botany, some Civics,
While some crack Math problems.

The studious ones are drowned into their sheets,
Their eyes wandering on the paper
And quickly glancing at their wrist watches,
While their hands craft the art of learning onto the sheet.
They are determined, not to lose a single minute or mark.
Their eyes unfolding stories of sleepless nights
And challenging days.
Tired, beautiful eyes, still spreading the glaze.

Some try to memorize the learned answers,
Trying to recollect the forgotten word,
Leading the streak of words.
Some repent for leaving the answer
They missed to learn.

Even the noisy ones are quiet today,
As if they have packed their mischiefs away.
The question paper seems to be in an alien language to them,
With no clues or codable characters.
Their eyes intrude into others’ sheets,
To copy-paste the matter into their sheets.

Oh! I sighed,
I remembered my examination days,
The serene hall, the exam tension,
The flippering of papers,
And among all, I used to be the one.
Writing a poem on the question paper
After finishing the exam.
I was a student then,
And an invigilator now.

Shaken by the shrill voice of the bell,
I was drawn back from my thoughts.
Giggling, I shook away the streak of words
Leading to a poem.
And started collecting the papers.