Tribute to Ashutosh Sarangi
Returning hostel After vacations Rejoicing the feeling Of having my own book And in all flow I rush To surprise The reader Of my lone proses But there is a lock On the door I find. This happened For three times When I would go joyful But return discouraged Happiness gets doubled When shared And I feel its the same With the inability. On a fine day A terrible news came About the death Of my dear friend Shocked and cried Even when All tears dried. There was nothing That could return A friend Keeping memories As the only jewel And curses to life With all slangs known Unfortunately none Of them worked For peace or pain Seems this is what People say Bad times are like I take back My ungratefulness Towards lacking The possession Of the latest phone And that's where Our friendship grew Asking for Internet From a neighbouring Stranger roommate Which then soon Became a habit And on that pretext The various topics That would flung upon