"Sit a while, let us chat, you have grown

Older and wise," said Kaka beaming in smile

I sat with him, at the tea stall bakhda

The morning mist blending the kettle steam

I signalled to Raju chaiwallah '2 cutting, special'

I was ready to chat with Kaka, sit a while

The years had worn him down

His teeth, yellowed from bidis, 

We used to steal his beedis I remember

Kaka was always kind and sweet, strict too

I offered him my cigarette, and a light

I wouldn't smoke, before him, traditional respect

He nodded in acknowledgement, and spoke

It was a long conversation, of life and god

Philosophy, wars, the old times and all

I heard him through, 

without interruptions, Traditional respect, 

we never speak to elders out of turn

I signalled for two more cutting chais

Heard my teacher, after so long

We spoke past 7 through 9 and the mist had faded

There were others who joined, inquiring his health

I had forgotten how many years he had served

He had given me 6 , and he had served 40

I paused him for a moment and turned around

I found everyone by then had arrived

We all had brought him gifts, as a surprise

The students he had taught and set right.

A teacher may seem to teach us a while

Yet they help us know about life

They arrive when we are at our weakest

Stay and strengthen us, till we can walk miles

This one is for all the Kakas that you know

Spend a thought, and send them love

For when you reach adulthood

Their lessons shall hold your heart and soul.

Steady, strong, always until you breathe.