The tower of Babel
English has always been my favorite language, notwithstanding the fact that it’s a remnant of India’s colonial heritage. Perhaps I should feel guilty about this, but I don’t. During my school days, I was fortunate to have some very good teachers, none more so than my English teacher, Mr. Nakulan. His command of the language helped cement English’s already impregnable position as my favorite subject of all (followed closely by Physics). My friends and I would discuss Wodehouse and Maugham during lunch breaks, though the world they wrote about, with its Ascots and gentlemen’s gentlemen, was so far from ours it might as well have been Mars. Nakulan-sir, as we used to call him, would sometimes bring tapes of poetry recitals to class, to show us how to read poetry aloud, and how proper pronunciation and delivery could bring the written word to life.


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