It was 1976-77.
I went to collect my result of Grade-III.
Our class teacher was Ms.Aisha Khatoon.
I was sitting on the bench & waiting for my turn.
She called me,took out my report card, smiled & hugged me.It was the sign that i secured distinction & position in the class.
She took out a storey book & given me as "present" for my performance in the examination.
It was a total new experience for me that my teacher given me a gift from her own pocket.
The name of storey book was "chhoti laltain"(small lantern).
How can i forget the name of book & the contents, inspired me at the time when i was not knowing the meaning of inspiration.
What i remembered there after, to work hard & your teacher will give you more storey books as present.
This was a fine example of Jamia middle school, where teachers were slowly but surely building the personalities.
This blog is for all, belongs to JAMIA MILLIA ISLAMIA, Maulana Mohammed Ali Jauhar Marg, New Delhi.110025, India. Iam here to start posting the golden memories of student hood. There is no body without those unforgettable moments. So!! why to wait? lets begin from here. Who knows these memories from different people at different time in jamia turned out to be an asset!
Jamia ka Tarana
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Jamia ka tarana (english)
This is the land of my hopes
This is the land of my dreams
This is where men with zeal stayed
Men who answered the leaders' call
It is here that torn-off love
Found the cohesive chords
It is here that wayward passions
Formed into frenzied love
It is here that the wild tulip learnt
How to make the scar of heart aglow
This is the land of my hopes
This is the land of my dreams
This is the place of men of vision
And of those with a challenging thought
Every morning here is new
And every evening newer still
Different is this tavern
And different are its norms
Different are the dancing cups
And different is their dance
Here drinking begets thirst a new
And different is this tavern's call
This is the land of my hopes
This is the land of my dreams
Here, conscience is the beacon light
And conscience is the guide
Here is the Mecca of heart resides the guiding faith
Ceaseless movement is our faith
And blasphemy it is to stay still
Here, the destined goal is the march on and on
Here, the swimming urge seeks
Newer and newer storms
Restless wave itself is our resurrected shore
Translated by: Prof. M. Zakir
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