Someone once asked me,
“What does Sanskriti mean to you?”
The words on my lips,
I realized they weren’t true.
So I thought a bit more,
What binds us all here?
Why do we enjoy learning?
The answer was now clear.
Everyday, as I walk inside,
I encounter someone at the gate,
She smiles at you,
Or glares, if you’re late.
Further into the campus,
As I go to keep my phone,
Laughter cuts through the smog,
And a playful pat on your tailbone.
With the bell
Comes shuffling of feet
My class teacher waltz inside
Before I take my seat.
She looks at all of us,
And frowns at the attendance
But beams right after,
Filling the class with radiance.
Good morning ma’am
We all sing.
As we take out our books
Which we honestly didn't need to bring.
You see, we’re not taught chapters
From pages,
Rather, we’re taught lessons,
Meant to be remembered for ages.
Our teachers teach us from the heart,
Their passion, their love
Is visible
In the knowledge they impart.
So to answer the question,
What makes Sanskriti special
Isn’t something in its stone
And yet, it is it’s very backbone.
Right from your first day here,
You have one friend who’s always there,
Your teacher guides you, helps you,
Even scolds you because she cares.
And today, as I stand here,
Still not ready to leave this home,
I glimpse back at all the memories,
The 14 years which went in a jiffy.
So I want to thank you, teachers,
For molding us into what we are
Your lessons and bright smiles
Will always stay with us
Whether youre near or far.
