|Saturday, March 8, 2003||
After a long time of search,
I want to rest,
New as I have found you,
I have forgotten the rest.
Donít you feel the same!
This is no game.
Make me your shadow, please
Let my passion openly release
Let my hand touch yours,
Then the pure love will pour
So donít let me fail.
Let the ship of our love sail,
ó Bimal Walia, Class
Once upon a time, there was a lad
Fond of cricket and his dad
Cool friends and family he had
But one thing about him was bad
For cricket, he was quite mad
Just one thing used to make him sad
Loses in the game was that
But still he used to live quite glad
All in all, a cool life he had
But one day, rather a night
A big storm came into his life
And attacked on him with its full might
No one else, but his dear dad died
Crushed by a lorry on the road side
He saw the intolerable sight
And lost his mind
The poor boy, as a result, got away
from his dad, friends, and school that day
Never again he tried or was gay
Quite helpless in chair, he used to lay
Never again heard voice of his dear one
Never, with his friends, had fun
His childhood was all done
Now he has no companion, none
But he is here to do his fatherís undone
So that is the story of father to the son
ó Akashdeep Kamra,
For you, Kalpana
Kalpana, shining up there among the stars
Now you are theirs, earlier you were ours.
You now belong to the limitless space,
Made us alone and left sadness on our face.
We will always remember you,
For your achievements which were never few.
You made us aim, to touch the height,
With our hard work and our might.
We will always respect your dedication,
Towards your work and bring out the same with elation.
ó Prachi Minglani,