16-July,2025: In a moment that will be etched in the institutional memory of Government Higher Secondary School Qaimoh, the school hosted its first-ever Retirees’ Meet—a soul-stirring initiative envisioned by the Principal, Dr. Sajad Ahmad Mir, as a tribute to the lives, lessons, and legacies of those who once carried the torch of knowledge and character.
This was not just a ceremonial gathering—it was a homecoming, an intellectual pilgrimage back to the very space from which these stalwarts once parted ways through superannuation. Held in the Principal’s Office Chambers, the atmosphere was rich with nostalgia, dignity, and reverence. It was in this very chamber that many of the attendees had once signed off their careers. On this day, they signed into memory.
“It is not a mere programme,” said Dr. Sajad Ahmad Mir in his deeply emotional inaugural address,
“It is a personal longing to sit at the feet of wisdom. These walls have witnessed transitions, but today they witness connection. The experience of our seniors is the greatest curriculum—their models are not taught in universities nor sold in seminars. They are lived, breathed, and felt. They are priceless.”
The programme was immaculately coordinated by Dr. Sartaj Ahmad Badroo, Lecturer in Urdu, along with his protocol team—ensuring every detail resonated with elegance, respect, and honour.
Echoes of the Past: Voices That Built the Institution
The hall was thrown open to the veterans, and what followed was a moving stream of stories, sentiments, and sagacious reflections.
Mohammad Ayoub Shah, Former Principal
In his characteristically composed manner, he extended heartfelt congratulations to the current principal and faculty. Reflecting on his journey through DIET, Dy. CEO's Office, and finally GHS Qaimoh, he said:
“I have worked under different banners and offices, but the soul of education is always the same—connection. The most transformative tool I ever found was counselling. Not threats, not punishment—just the power of a human conversation. Counselling is not just a practice; it is a principle. It is the silent weapon of giants—it disarms, it heals, it builds. When you speak to the heart, you win the mind.”
Mr. Mohammad Shaban
In a resolute tone, he revisited the dark and difficult days of unrest:
“The hard times didn’t break us—they revealed us. They proved we were made for the storm. I remember patrolling the school even at midnight, vigilant and unwavering. There was a building that was falling apart—but we stood firm. The structure may have been weak, but our resolve was unshakable. Those were the days when the school wasn't just a workplace—it was a calling.”
Ghulam Mohammad Shah
His words came with an unmistakable fragrance of history:
“I stepped into this school in 1961 as a sweeper. My salary was ₹7—yes, seven rupees. Over time it grew, but I never worked for the wage; I worked for the warmth. The school had two rooms back then. We went from door to door, collecting funds - from twigs to cereals, whatever we could. Those were hard days—but they were rich days. Today I stand here, not as a sweeper, but as someone who has been swept away by love and honour. Thank you.”
Bashir Ahmad Zaar
With a calm smile, he whispered truth dressed in grace:
“A lot was said outside, about this school, about its condition, about its staff. But let me tell you—within these walls, there was peace. There was purity. There was partnership. The staff was family. The students were sincere. The criticisms outside were noise. What we built inside was music.”
Mohammad Yousuf Dar alias Raja Yousuf
In a powerful and passionate speech, he thundered with clarity and courage:
“I carry records, not just of files, but of memories. I remember every sanction order, every transfer, every staffing detail. In 1991, some miscreants tried to burn down the official records. I had already foreseen it—I hid the files at my home. That was not fear. That was foresight. When institutions are attacked, it is the keepers who must stand tall. I did then, and I will again. My loyalty to this school is eternal. Let this be on record.”
Abdul Rashid Naikoo
A veteran of the hills, he shared his journey from remote terrains to the heart of Qaimoh:
“My teaching years were mostly spent trekking through hills and valleys. But it was here, in the last chapter of my service, that I found reflection. We tried to repair, to rebuild, to reimagine. I believe this school can also be the cradle of welfare. We must create a Welfare Fund for Retirees—a place where love meets dignity in old age. Let us not just retire people—let us honour them.”
Showkat Hussain Zarger (on behalf of his late father)
Emotionally poised, he delivered a tribute that silenced the room:
“My father used to say—‘I belong to my colleagues before I belong to my family.’ He lived his truth. Simplicity was his religion, and sincerity his legacy. Before he passed, he knew his time was near. But he smiled—not with fear, but with fulfilment. Because he had lived an honest life, inside these classrooms, among his second family.”
Mohammad Yaqoob Ganaie
Perhaps the most emotionally layered voice of the event, his reflections touched the soul:
“Post-retirement, the world becomes silent—but the heart becomes loud. It’s the time to love yourself. If you don’t, no one will. The generation gap is real—we don’t speak the same language anymore. But wisdom doesn’t expire. I have lived through unrest, rebellion, and ruin—but I never gave up. Once, I stood with my bare hands to save records . I taught students who were tempted by turmoil. I fought not with fists, but with faith. And that, my friends, is what kept us human.”
Mushtaq Ahmad Qadri, Ex-CEO
With a warm chuckle and a glint in his eye, he applauded the initiative:
“This is something new. Usually, no one remembers us after retirement. I had to dust off my suit today! But what a beautiful gathering this is. I remember how we tiled the lab washrooms, how we landscaped around the majestic Chinar. Every tile, every leaf, every step was teamwork. I feel proud, not just of what we built—but of the fact that we are still remembered.”
Mohammad Ayoub Wani
A local teacher and witness to many seasons of the school, he concluded with heartfelt words:
“This initiative by Dr. Sajad is more than just a meet—it’s a movement. A culture of reverence. My heartfelt tribute to our past principals, to our sweeper Gull Mohammad Shah, and to every hand that built this institution in silence. They were not just employees—they were architects of character.”
An Ending That Felt Like a Beginning
The programme concluded with the serving of traditional saffron tea and fruits—a gesture steeped in Kashmiri warmth and gratitude.
As hands embraced and eyes glistened, one thing became clear: the event wasn’t merely about what had passed—but about what still lives on.
The legacy. The love. The learning.
“Retirement ends the paycheck,” said one guest, “but never the purpose.”
