By Every Child Is a Possibility
For a Chanakya, one is enough,
One guided mind, one steady hand.
One Chandragupta, shaped with care,
Can change the fate of this great land.
But today the call is wide and deep,
One spark alone will not suffice.
A rising age demands new minds,
Many flames to light the skies.
We stand at a turn of time and thought,
Where the past speaks soft, and futures call.
An ancient nation lifts its head,
To rise again—strong, just, and tall.
Not in slow centuries ahead,
Not in a distant, dreaming age.
But in these coming few short years,
History turns a living page.
The world now shifts its weight and ways,
Old ties show cracks, old truths grow thin.
Power pauses, dominance fades,
New faith and trust now enter in.
In this churn of doubt and change,
India neither boasts nor pleads.
It builds with calm, prepares with care,
And plants the roots of future deeds.
And so each child becomes our trust,
Not common clay, not meant to fade.
Not one to count, not one to trade,
But sacred seeds our hands have made.
A charge to hold, a path to guard,
A chance that time may never send.
Each child is both a duty bound,
And hope the nation must defend.
Within each mind, a force lies still,
A strength unseen, a quiet flame.
A soldier’s will, a thinker’s sight,
A healer’s heart, a leader’s aim.
A saint of truth, a builder bold,
A voice for peace, a plan unknown.
A future cure, a wiser way,
A world not yet by humans shown.
Each child is born with work to do,
Each dream seeks light, a place, a start.
Each teacher holds a shaping role,
To wake the mind and form the heart.
This is not just a daily task,
Not bells and books and marks alone.
This is the craft of nation-building,
In chalk and care, in flesh and bone.
In patience taught, in questions asked,
In courage grown from gentle ways.
In truth made strong, in fear let go,
In steady work through silent days.
A nation rises classroom by classroom,
Lesson by lesson, year by year.
The future walks in school corridors,
Learning hope, not doubt or fear.
O teachers, mentors, hear this call,
This moment comes but once in time.
Not all are born to wear the crown,
Or lead the march or draw the line.
But some are born to shape the ones,
Who will stand firm when tested hard.
Empires rise on unseen hands,
That teach, correct, and gently guard.
The seeds you plant in youthful minds,
Will grow as forests strong and free.
What you begin with care and truth,
Will shape what Bharat comes to be.
The greatest chapters wait unwritten,
The boldest dreams are still in view.
India stands at dawn’s first light—
The best is yet to come.
And you, dear teacher, know this truth,
And hold it steady, calm, and clear:
The power to shape the coming age
Already rests with you.
For every child is a possibility.
