Those distant days
Remenscing those days, When we all used to be in two coloured dress, Cares and worries were simple, Will the question paper be lengthy or ickle, Rulers of the corridor, mischievous mongers and what not they used to call us all, Physics, chemistry, math, bio never bothered us et al. Hoggers of the tiffin were we, All the dabbas empty by period three. Sitting in the bunkers paradise, Having fun and imagining the future bright, All of a sudden running to the class nearby, Principal on the rounds, oh my my! I wonder now, Will that place be still as it was, Will ‘Bunkers Paradise’ be written in blue chalk like it was ages ago. The tubelight which we broke by playing cricket with bio journal in the room, Does the loft still hold its broken pieces and the broom Which clinked when pigeons walked And all the while we smirked. Or do the benches still have scribbled names, formulas and secret games. Do the students still bribe the watchman for snea