It's the time when owls too sleep,
It’s two past ten when foxes do weep,
I think to write my day's diary,
The one which I love to skip daily.
Tons of mail had been sent,
Puns of Arnab had been re-learnt,
But about today I think I write,
What was a memory faint and light.
Of white shirts and navy blue trousers,
When men who searched were called browsers,
When sports meant cricket and only cricket,
When stones stood on one another as the wicket.
Of times when chocolates priced half a rupee,
And happiness was a pack of Frooti,
Bicycles were a mark of driving pride,
And dreams were of a bus to ride.
The memoirs of Pani Poori gulping,
And of the canes of sugar pulping,
Of sodas of lemon bubbling,
And rainbow sugar jellies wobbling.
Of times when I was a child,
Oh when my mind was clean and voice mild,
Of when world was a happy place to live,
And when there was nothing god could give.
And the clock squeezed ahead into teens,
Into t-shirts and rugged jeans.
And slowed into an ecstasy of paradise,
When into college life rolled my dice.
Staring out of the dark wooden doors,
As the rain onto green fields pours,
Walking up and down a path to know,
Life is more than a yes and a no.
To learn of cultures versatile to me,
And of such mixture am I to be.
I drove off into silences far,
Amidst the deep forests of Kolar.
And then the dead fire lit back bright,
Like a bright star in the windy night.
People to never lose were many met,
Some into whose tales is my own set.
Trips to places which over centuries did flourish,
With sweet memories that shall never cherish.
To learn to understand the right people,
Those who pat your back when you feel feeble.
It’s two past ten when foxes do weep,
I think to write my day's diary,
The one which I love to skip daily.
Tons of mail had been sent,
Puns of Arnab had been re-learnt,
But about today I think I write,
What was a memory faint and light.
Of white shirts and navy blue trousers,
When men who searched were called browsers,
When sports meant cricket and only cricket,
When stones stood on one another as the wicket.
Of times when chocolates priced half a rupee,
And happiness was a pack of Frooti,
Bicycles were a mark of driving pride,
And dreams were of a bus to ride.
The memoirs of Pani Poori gulping,
And of the canes of sugar pulping,
Of sodas of lemon bubbling,
And rainbow sugar jellies wobbling.
Of times when I was a child,
Oh when my mind was clean and voice mild,
Of when world was a happy place to live,
And when there was nothing god could give.
And the clock squeezed ahead into teens,
Into t-shirts and rugged jeans.
And slowed into an ecstasy of paradise,
When into college life rolled my dice.
Staring out of the dark wooden doors,
As the rain onto green fields pours,
Walking up and down a path to know,
Life is more than a yes and a no.
To learn of cultures versatile to me,
And of such mixture am I to be.
I drove off into silences far,
Amidst the deep forests of Kolar.
And then the dead fire lit back bright,
Like a bright star in the windy night.
People to never lose were many met,
Some into whose tales is my own set.
Trips to places which over centuries did flourish,
With sweet memories that shall never cherish.
To learn to understand the right people,
Those who pat your back when you feel feeble.
And today I stand regretting what has past,
For I know the ship has set its mast.
Leave the life of flawless smiles,
And of those grooming weekly styles.
An older life welcomes with ignorance,
I shall rule it with brilliance,
I love what life does to me,
For it knows I am not a routine to be.
Quoting Kiddo if the ending is sad,
You can never be happy about the happy times you had.
For I know the ship has set its mast.
Leave the life of flawless smiles,
And of those grooming weekly styles.
An older life welcomes with ignorance,
I shall rule it with brilliance,
I love what life does to me,
For it knows I am not a routine to be.
Quoting Kiddo if the ending is sad,
You can never be happy about the happy times you had.