From South Delhi’s humble, striving land,
A dream was born from a founder’s hand;
Not wealth, not power, nor fleeting fame,
But to serve the child — heart and brain.

One great result may come by chance,
But decades of triumph are not by fluke;
Toppers crowned in cities and states,
Unmatched glory none could abate.

All-India Ranks, Olympiad golds,
AIR 1, 2, 3 many times retold.
No rival could such laurels claim,
FIITJEE carved its eternal name.

Yet success, like Caesar’s laurel crown,
Attracts the daggers that drag men down;
Whispers spread in jealous breath,
Wishing glory be turned to death.

As Caesar fell to one traitor’s knife,
FIITJEE too was assailed in life;
Just one Brutus ended Caesar's flame,
But many Brutuses can not erase our name.

Managing Partners, once sworn to stand,
Broke the trust with a treacherous hand;
Foes connived with them, sought to deceive
To steal the results, they did not achieve.

Newspapers & TV thundered, rivals mocked,
Whispers sharpened, accusations stocked;
Yet truth, though buried, did not decay,
It waited patient for brighter day.

Motivated complaints, FIRs and raids,
Headlines blazing, false charges made;
But no parchment bore a crime in fact,
For truth withstands the harshest test.

Accusations raged, headlines screamed,
The end of FIITJEE — or so it seemed.
Even as Brutuses circled with knives,
Our shield was the students’ transformed lives.

Mothers and fathers, worried and torn,
Demanded the future their children had sworn;
Their voices rose in the public square,
And FIITJEE listened — for society we care.

Aspirants scattered, midstream in flight,
Turning to rivals to salvage their plight;
Yet many remembered, in silence and tears,
The rigor of FIITJEE that shaped their years.

Kallen and Kakash, hit banners high,
Proclaimed dominion beneath the sky;
Yet names and noise cannot enthrone,
What decades of labour alone have sown.

Accounts searched, the agencies pried,
But truth stood firm, the lies denied.
For values serve as a fortress wall,
And truth outlasts the fiercest squall.

Though centres closed, and trust was strained,
Slowly the lifeblood was regained;
Online flames lit, classrooms revived,
The spirit of FIITJEE again survived.

The Founder stood in the tempest’s roar,
Unbent, unbroken, resolved once more;
“Never against society will I stand—
Truth, transparency, commitment-my guiding hand.

A moment of anger, a word let slip,
Seized by the mob with a tightening grip;
Yet character cannot by a moment be slain,
For decades of service still remain.

No hatred burnt, no vengeance sought,
For service alone was the Founder’s thought.
Against betrayal, his oath was plain:
From pain, new strength we shall regain.

Society’s guard we vowed to be,
Protecting its children, keeping them free;
In every rank, in each success,
Our purpose is service—nothing less.

Though scattered afar, the memory stayed,
Of rigor unmatched, of systems made.
Proof that FIITJEE is larger than place,
It’s a system, a culture, a relentless pace.

One Brutus may stab, but Rome did not die,
And so FIITJEE lifts its head to the sky;
Brutuses many may conspire and scheme,
But cannot destroy a people’s dream.

“Where shall our children’s future go?”
The answer came: “With us, you know.
Your trust we’ll guard, your hope we’ll keep,
Your children’s tomorrow is ours to reap.”

Now brighter burns the FIITJEE fire,
Forged in betrayal, tempered by ire;
Yet calm it shines, in steady hand,
A beacon of truth across the land.

Yes, mistakes and delays were made,
Yet from the ashes a path was laid.
Glorifire shines, new models awake,
The mission lives for society’s sake.

With a new design, a phoenix in flight,
Catena of Franchise to spread the light;
India and beyond, horizons wide,
FIITJEE’s promise will never subside.

Franchisees, Build for your children’s children to see.
Standards that outlast market spree.
Lighthouses don’t blink; they simply be—
let FIITJEE’s light define your legacy.

Remember the toppers, the rankers, the crown,
The Olympiad medals, the national renown;
Many times AIR 1, 2, 3 in our fold,
Such legends cannot by envy be sold.

Not trumpet loud nor banner bright,
But a whisper clear in the dead of night:
Extraordinary souls, come take your place,
And carry forward this timeless grace.

And judge us not by a storm-tossed year,
But by decades of triumph, steady and clear;
For FIITJEE was, and always shall be,
Unconquerable and eternal, the captain of its soul.

Society’s guard we vow to be;
Shaping the future, setting it free.
Through storm and trial, through shadow and pain;
FIITJEE’s promise will still remain.