Skip to main content

Once a teacher always a teacher



September 5 fills every teacher's heart with pride,
Designation doesn't count be it NTT, PRT, TGT, or PGT.
 Fifth day of the vibrant ninth month resonates in every educator's heart,
Since it's the day when society acknowledges their relentless hard work and part,
Part that they play in carving beautiful, sensitive and progressive minds and hearts.

It's the day to celebrate their worth,
The atmosphere in every temple of education is full of glee and mirth.
The day glorious and golden September dawns,
Preparation by the teaching fraternity is tirelessly on.
New attires, new hopes for a winsome delight,
That every educational institute never fails to provide.
To make it special for the ones who are born to guide. 

Alas! I never gave thought that once, how eagerly, for this day I would also wait.
For almost two decades I was a teacher,
One who always kept her spirits high.
Little did I realize that this year onwards, this day would be pined for as one of the most special days,
When I would miss being a teacher, by the way.

Though it was my choosing, yet not being a teacher is somewhat confusing.
Of all the roles I played in life, perhaps except for being a mom, being a teacher was the most sublime.
The saddest thought that that beautiful phase has perhaps passed forever was brushed aside,
When messages of "Happy Teacher's Day" started to beep from far and wide.
Again the low spirits were transformed into high.

Almost one or two students of every session I thought 
Brought unforgettable memories of the time when I taught.
Their sweet wishes turned me reminiscent,
I was roaming down the memory lane,
And was grateful to all my mentors who
Took all the pains without thinking about what was there to gain,
The teachers round the globe
Who carve, chisel, and train the best of the best men and women who are holding and the upcoming generations who will take over in future the reins of our proud nation.

It was a moment that was a clear indication to stay happy forever,
Since like the rest once a teacher, I would always stay a teacher. 










Comments

  1. Wow!! Truly wonderful
    You are my mentor, my guide, my inspiration & above all my all time favourite bestie
    You are one in a million with golden heart ❤️

    ReplyDelete
  2. Once a teacher will always a teacher❤️❤️ you are always in our hearts mam....we miss you❤️
    Happy teacher's day

    ReplyDelete
  3. I understand that feel .

    ReplyDelete
  4. Very nice, yes mam, you said right--once a teacher will always be a teacher. Now through your writing, valuable lessons, you are conveying.👍🏻

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Do leave your comments

Popular posts from this blog

When Skill Meets Determination:A Salon, A Story and a Salute

Since time immemorial, both men and women have wished, ventured, and craved to look good, better, and sometimes the best. In every nook and corner of the world, whether in a bustling city, a quiet suburb, or a small village, salons and beauty parlours stand as testimony to this universal desire. With each generation, the dependence on such services has grown, shortcuts have become acceptable, and professional grooming has turned into a necessity rather than a luxury. This observation isn’t a conclusion drawn from research; it is born from personal experience with my twenty-one-year-old daughter. Having recently begun to manage her life independently, she is particular about her appearance and outlook. For the past three years, she has been living abroad and returns home every December for a month. During this time, she sweetly wishes to be pampered in every possible way. One such indulgence is getting her hair washed and blow-dried at a salon so that her curtain bangs remai...

Fire

Fire, fire, fire, Can I dare to beg of you to be hired? Hired by someone as fragile as me, A timid soul, afraid to set herself free. I know I am too timid to dream of taming you; It is idiosyncratic, perhaps, to think this through. It is in no way wise to walk these lines, Yet your fierce companionship my spirit designs. I want you by my side to help me burn away All that is negative, all that leads astray; All the weeds in the dying, diminishing garden of my life, All the bitterness, sorrow, and silent strife. The effigy of greed, of need, and all that dares To kill fine human values and replace them with snares, Needs to be set on fire, yet I feel My weak bones lack such divine zeal. Though I aspire to rise like a phoenix from my ashes, To emerge renewed after life's cruel clashes, For that, you must become my ally, A force within that will never let me die. Fire, you who are a symbol of both death and resurrection, Of destruction, creation, and sacred transformation, You graciou...

Silence

Silence is serene. Silence is solace. In several ways, silence saves the savage soul. Silence is static, strong, like sky-kissing mountains circling a sleepy hill town. Silence is somber when it stems from sadness. Silence strives to sleep over sickening strategies. Silence confers the childlike sleep upon the soulful, while it steals the peace of the soulless. Silence smiles and silences all conjectures. For a few, silence is a sweet remedy; for others, silence is a malady. For some, silence is a question impossible to crack. For others, silence is the answer to every crux. For some, silence is a shield. For others, the sharpest knife, the searing scythe. Most times, aparently silence saves bonds. At times, it breaks them into forms unrecognizable. Silence wears the face of a silent sage, yet stands indisputed as  a symbol of untamed rage. Life screams. Death silences. silence is a voice in itself, raising walls too high for unwanted noise to climb. Silence is a misunderstood path...