The man with age of 70 years, being incapable of walking
From his childhood, gets an occasion of speaking for himself
That is all he has to tell about, in flash of glittering of his eyes.
He is still energetic; mentally he behaves as an epic sheet
Of life, with thought to sweep over excursion of leading voice,
I become poignant to his appearance of determination.
His teeth are strong, utterance superior to anyone in the town,
And tones of voice brilliant to hear and sort of dominance,
“I have struggled much, mistakes are there, yet I survive.”
As if all words are an anthology of poetic prominence,
We have to hear him, nostalgic he is sometimes, yet sublime.
He bears no complexity; poetic is his mind, the only photo
That pegged on the wall of his room is of MichaelMadhusudan Dutta,
He has tones of cutting, burning, creating of iconic salvation
And talking with him is like talking with a learned emissary
From the moon, taking the listener as his admired visitor, and he says,
“I am useless either for the society or for the familial peer, yet I survive.”