Who is
calling me? Whose voice was that? The voice is known, the person is own.
Where is
he gone? The surrounding is mourned.
The second
person I saw after my father when I came on the planet.
His words
and knowledge used to act like a magnet.
How many
memories I have with him? Its uncountable.
How many
things I have learned from him? Its immeasurable.
The world
without his presence is unacceptable.
The best
friend of my father, for me he was fatherly figure.
With everyday
meeting, the warm greetings.
With often
dinners, the night winners.
The poet
who resides in him, the singer who sings with him, and the knowledge who slaves in him is exceptional.
The people
are exchanging their views, the grass outside is filled with dews.
You’re
there to pay tribute to the person, not to share your experiences which you had
in person.
The man
is gone, the dream is unborn.
As your
presence was filled with smile wear, your absence is filled with tears.
The Maardsaab to my father
The sharer
of jokes, secrets, music and the life to him, all will be missed.
We know
that you’re always with us Uncle.
Aunty,
Tanu Bhaiya, Ranu and all of us here will be strong as you wanted us to
be.
I will close
my eyes every time I miss you and I know the first thing I will hear is Sameer
Babu.
In memory of - Arvind Uncle
