Saturday, June 23, 2007
Once I went to a mental hospital
On seeing the people there, my mood went bitter
So pitiable was their condition,
To talk to each one of them became my mission.
And when I talked to them, they said
Nothing except ‘why’ and ‘when’.
To my utter-utter surprise
They all were very wise
Then how they reached there,
It was a mystery.
The reply was, they were doing
PhD in history
Pavan Puneet, X-A,
My feet are in the graveyard
But I still cannot resign
Can’t name, can’t define
Everybody has to cross this bridge
Everyone has to go this way
Where you’re tested the most
There has to be that one last day
Last for this world it would be
Where your soul shall leave this cloth of skin
And you won’t need those eyes to see
Two shores might never meet each other
But the same ocean they do touch
The first shore was where you were born
On the second, life might seemed to end
It’s not an end but a beginning
That begins with your last breath
You’ll get the wages of your sins
One by one, turn by turn
I hear all say and cry quite often
"Oh God! This life is full of strife"
But when you reach this juncture
You know what’s called the slice of life.
Sugandha Arora, XII,