His eyes were wet when they put him in his shaking hands,
To fetch him happiness, he will cross seven seas and travel through endless lands,
Now he sits there waiting, waiting to hear his voice, to see his eyes,
There are no more grudges; no more complains, just a hope; to see him before he dies,
For now he is old, no life in his body, no strength in his bones,
He is far away now, moving forward, making his own life, no time to pick up the phone,
While he who made him a man, walks a mile just to call him every day,
He sacrificed every desire, he gave up his own life to make his, they say
Clutching his hands, he learned to stand,
Now he walks with a wooden stick, no one there to hold his hand,
He cried to leave him on his first day of school,
His face doesn’t even cross his mind now, stupid old fool,
He passed away one day, in the darkness and silence of the night
Just like his son years before, with a bullet through his heart, he had got into a fight
The loss of his son made him crazy; he was sent to an asylum,
Where he waited for his son to take him home,
So he did that night, to take him away,
He was with him now, some place better, far away.
Debojit Sengupta
BITS Pilani
'Campus Writing' 