In pedagogy's realm, where lessons unfold,
I met her strict gaze, her demeanor austere,
A teacher whose presence both warm and cold,
Her voice a blend of command and cheer.
In Semester Two, my steps hesitant, slow,
Her firm stance loomed like an iron wall,
Yet the seeds of respect began to grow,
When Semester Three softened her call.
Room 49 FOE became my portal to awe,
Her smile disarmed yet discipline reigned,
“Kanishk, come in,” her words without flaw,
Though her sternness at times left me restrained.
Her walk commands the road she strides,
Confidence fused with urgency's flare,
At times in specs, a doctor she hides,
With wisdom glowing beyond compare.
Her knowledge vast, like a boundless sea,
Economics and tech she wove with art,
A motherly guide who cared endlessly,
With wisdom and strength in equal part.
Her life a balance of work and kin,
Two little children and duties immense,
Her strides spoke of purpose deep within,
A journey of hiatus, grace, and sense.
For every doubt, she’s always there,
Even at midnight, her patience intact,
Her soft-spoken words, her thoughtful care,
A bond of guidance and trust compact.
Though scolded once for childish play,
Her affection remains, steady and strong,
I’ll ask about Pahal Horizon without delay,
And hope our bond endures lifelong.
By: - KANISHK
