– Kalyan Kumar Dutta,
VKV Kharsang.
In modest clothes, they stand so tall,
The builders of minds, they give their all.
From dawn to dusk, they burn their light,
Yet remain unseen in the world’s sight.
With crowded rooms and endless chalk,
They teach the world but rarely talk.
Their dreams suppressed, their hearts resigned,
To shape young souls, their lives confined.
A pittance paid, yet hopes they sow,
Unseen streams of love they flow.
No fancy cars, no halls of fame,
They bear the load, none knows their name.
Long hours spent on tests and schemes,
Their nights consumed by silent dreams.
The weight of knowledge, their gift to share,
Yet none return the love or care.
Behind each word, a story lies,
A struggle masked in weary eyes.
Private schools, a golden cage,
Where passion wanes and turns to rage.
The managers’ frowns, the parents’ scorn,
Leave hearts beleaguered, bruised, and torn.
But still, they smile, their heads held high,
For seeds of wisdom will never die.
Let hearts awake, let justice bloom,
And light disperse the mounting gloom.
These silent pillars, strong and true,
Deserve their due in skies of blue.
