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,
The deliberate scrolling
Profile of random girls,
The sessions of work
Where I enhance words
And that's the epitome
Of what good times
A hostel can give someone
And there is nothing
That can be done
Except hold on
The faith
That good people exist.
.

Dedicated to a great and dynamic friend I ever had! RIP Ashutosh Sarangi