The place of pointless talks’
With people of hearts,
Not aware of their blood group and life history
The place that binds us as friends
To search together for life’s mystery;

The place that gains more stamps of shoes
Yet, never takes revenge,
Instead, sends us out as educated tools;
But it takes a set of years to leave that home
Where it is a blissful journey!

The hallway leads you
To the doorway where you enter,
And threw you out
When gang problems encounter.
“Get out of the class, right now!”

The place where WE give
Pain, to teachers, such as
That their whole life never did!
“I never had such a worst batch!”

The boring lectures that brought out
The Writer, the Painter and
The Artist amongst us.

The wonderful art of sleeping during class-time,
And nodding our heads to words that entered
And left our minds like
The fastest metro trains.

The place where our watches
were used to the fullest;
Checking the end of every hour.
Watches, that made sure we got there on time!

The forever problem for students in classrooms;
A genetic defect
In the Genus of The Student Kingdom;
To control laughter during the class times.
Our facial muscles fail,
As if invisible lilliputs tickle our hips
That ends in the exposure of our sized teeth
Blessing us with even more anger from teacher
Comic shames, yet lovely to reminisce.

The topics that might have their origin
Dating back to 400 B.C,
The place where chats mattered more
That we even would dig out,
The dressing sense of Adam and Eve or
What would happen if the universe parallels
And all the subjects under the sun
That even the best orator could not cover.

The scribblings and names on the wooden benches;
Like the art in Keats’ Gracian urn,
Silently depicting the stories of our seniors.

We talk so much that
Makes the wooden benches crack even more
Matching our life paths
Yet, full of happiness, when in the classroom.



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From the Origin of time many rise and fall like winter weeds, My identity could not be revealed by anyone, My identity could only be revealed if you know me well. There isn't any great mystery about me. What I do is glamorous and has an awful lot of white-hot attention placed on it. But the actual work requires the same discipline and passion as any job you love doing, be it as a very good pipe fitter or a highly creative artist.