Our sparse Class of Nineteen Seventy Seven

By Syed Muhammad Mehdi Mohsin

The following verses strive to commemorate the scholarly yet sporty Aitchison College Class of SC '77 with hopes for happiness plus prayers for peace and prosperity in service of our kin, colleagues and country. May serving others, and standing by each other, be our collective calling-card in perpetuity:

With friendships forged since senior eleven

'Tho' many from a much earlier era too

Spawned circa kinders one and two

While some of our brothers were boarders

Who caught on quick not to be hoarders

Teaching us day boys too how to share

By instilling that rare quality to care

These were some life lessons learnt

And our spurs with a little effort earnt

Yes, in this instance boys too were teachers

Although no different to us, callow creatures

A fine family over several seasons thus made

Indeed a great gift by God's grace for each grade

Endowed with mind and muscle in equal measure

To be our treasure in both labour and leisure

‎We had champions we could pitch on the playing field

And with SC 6 and 7s, cerebral victories we sealed

‎Taught by titans once we tirelessly were

Who can still set our hearts astir

Even without them anymore at the helm

‎Their reign is undimmed over our inner realm

‎Pray, tell, where would we, blessed boys, be?

Sans our Sirs, would our spirits still soar free?

Abetting ethical and intellectual inquiry

Backed by firm faith and a tempo fiery

Like working with putty on unfinished souls

‎Priming personalities and refining our roles

With pain and passion they us groomed

To face challenges that ominously loomed

Yes, they masterfully minted men out of us

Now we know for what was all that fuss

Both in the classroom and on the green

To play the game with a camaraderie keen

Shaped by chivalry not rivalry in all ventures

By shunning the lure of moral misadventures

Cultivating character above all

To stand tall each time we fall

Madams of junior school did their duty too

From whom we received rules of etiquette true

‎We were mentored to make our mark on this world

While flying the flag that our elders unfurled

‎Over the years our ranks have thinned

Counting comrades at whom the grim reaper has grinned

For with sorrow we see some are no more

Yet by the selfsame we still set store

‎And even if our numbers are by death depleted

We won't let their vital voices be defeated

Honouring hence our dear companions departed

As if we never forever from them parted

So to them we say, "Tarry awhile until we again meet‎"

But, alas, not before our task here is complete

‎And whether or not we all walk into heaven

We'll always be that class of seventy seven