No longer are they one Class. They are Individuals now seeking their space under the sun. Streets, bylanes, alleys, stares, gazes, glares and words of the world will embrace them in their tight hug.
No longer will they get their identity from a number. Every deed of theirs will be a soil laden finger of a sculptor carving the statuette of their personality.
No longer will they get to hear the homilies and sermons sprinkled in syllabi. Every ounce of wisdom will have to unlock the door before letting soiled experience in to have its clothes fresh and immaculate.
No longer are they innocents playfully hiding behind the shield of grin inducing excuses. The truth of their selves will have to look squarely into the eyes of the reality of the world.
No longer are they words of the story I loved reading. I wish them to become the titles of the songs people love to croon in saccharin tunes and dulcet voices.
