With heaving a long sigh of grief,
I confess, I couldn't become a Shakespearian valiant:
Who never dies before his death,
Yet, I wish to die a valiant.
Looking longer back,
I can see the days of Seventy One;
When I was a part of Liberation war,
Gallantly slaying armed bandits & marauders;
Trampling and molesting our virgin land;
The way legendary Perseus,
Slew and severed the vile head of gorgon medusa,
Mounted with hissing snakes.
My memory line falls back,
Upon the reminiscence of my serving
The nation for long;
Which we shaped after a supreme sacrifice.
With utmost dedication & care.
Looking farther back,
I peep-in through the windows of mind;
How agile & nimble I was,
In snow-clad distant lands;
To create seismic jolt in dancing floor night long,
paired with worldly Nymphs of Paradise;
In artistic waltzing waves of throws & lifts.
With flashing back the sequences of bygone days
In the prime time of youth
I reminisce how strongly I stayed glued
In the exotic bar-counter
To quickly bottom-up tumblers filled-in
The watery golden elixir of life.
To be imbibed with fantasy of floating in the air.
At the happy hour of irrelevant!
Having depleted all the fuels of youth
I am relegated to a small corner of life
from where I can only hear
The music of distant drums murmuring
And glistening lights of yesteryears
Only through the windows of fading memories
Etched and faintly sparkling in the blurred vision
Withcreeping anxiety of dying before death
Unlike a Shakespearian Valiant.
The poet of former Civil Servant
