They tirelessly pace upon the treadmill of life,
With habitual unflagging shrugs, through life’s hurdles they contrive;
For Teachers in their wilfully, steely demeanour,
Desperately conceal their simple, warmly loving nature;
With fond, tender musings, Teachers look upon their pupils –
As their very purpose of existence, As their reason for being human;
They treasure them, keeping them sheltered and close,
Yet always knowing the right time, to finally let them go;
A will firm, a force pressing,
Yet a being sentient, a soul doting;
Teachers are mortal people, with human imperfections,
Wonderful people, capable of the highest order of affection;
Teachers nurture their pupils, under their watchful eyes,
Embroiling their own hectic lives, to help them touch life’s unreached skies;
Fighting belligerently for them, listening understandingly to them,
A shoulder to cry for them, a familiar hand to hold for them,
Oft chiding them, persistently encouraging them,
But above all, truly loving them with an unparalleled constance;
They easily give away their hearts,
To their prized treasures, their dear pupils;
Without any ounce of expectation, without any hope of repayment,
They watch them grow into young teens,
Cherishing every single moment, as time steadily streams;
Knowing all along the way,
That soon the day would come to part ways.
– Rehaan Singh
