To dear Sudhanshu...

The whistle is blown.
kerchiefs fly on the sombre air ;
And smiles struggle to clothe,
the dewy eyes, now laid bare.
An adieu that befits all the love and care
alike from the known and the unknown.
Yet how could thou so happy be ?

Art thou happy for the greener pastures
that await thee homeward as thy go ?
The grass is green, you surely know.
Yet, without the sweet smelling camaraderie,
wouldst thine eyes alone embrace the grass ,
when thy nose says no ?
Thine green shrubbery, would but fail to amass
the hay-strewn days of mirthful rapture.

A great friend as I am ;
Yet, why this discordant chord ?
Has my friendship been so poor
to restrict an amiable nod
to the wanting that my friend' heart craves ?
Oh! such such selfishness I bear,
that Bach and Mozart would turn in their graves.
For friendship is but a single soul symphony
amidst the shrill bugles of corruption's cacophony.

Wayward! Wayward! thee go my worthy friend.
If be thee gone and never again ;
Then thy memories as gold I retain ;
Enough for this birth to sustain.
But if be my destiny, my host one day,
I would wish to be thy counsel and thy say
for all births and every day!

                                     ---- Sauru