16 03 2015

She was Tiny…

With a head full of curls,

Occasionally the specs adorning,

A sleeveless shirt and pyjamas,

The gait, often as brisk, as what she was thinking.

She was a Powerhouse…

Of grit that was unmatched,

Of energy that was infectious,

Of precision that was unachievable,

Of perfection that was and is, a thing of Gods.

She was the Goddess…

That who understood the Math of God,

That who made sense of the complex universe

That who gave palatable dozes of the dreaded fruit

Mortals or monkeys, she gave as much as could be chewed

If un-chewed, a knock on the head was well deserved.

She was a Child…

One with wrinkles on that pink face

Those that deepened,

Either with that naughty grin or the trademark look of disgrace.

One that drove you crazy

One that loved making

And if imperfection prevailed, then indulged in as much of breaking!

Yes it was she, who jumped and scampered across that last day

While we waited with our noses stuck to the glass partition,

Wondering in dismay

It was our way of saying bye to her each day!

She was the Sceptre…

Of authority and nobility

Annihilating the flaw

And embracing the sublimity

She was an Aspiration,

That which was inimitable,

It was not good enough being ‘like’ her

One would rather strive to be ‘her’ or in the least a reflection of ‘her’

Equipped with my Jawaja leather bag,

Sans the pack full of nicotine,

The panache visibly absent,

I walk to school each day thinking to myself.

“What is it that she left us with and

“What can I leave my students with?

Today I realize,

Of all the precious things,

She gave us her sapphire eyes!


In loving memory of Nilam Iyer Ghosh.

I will meet you again someday dear teacher.

Hopefully the 14th attempt at the golden rectangle will be worthy of your nod.

Hopefully no wretched fly would decide to commit suicide on my sheet.

And hopefully you will never leave us again………….




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