THIS DAY THAT YEAR

Thirty eight winters passed, after that ominous morning.

 Whenever I remember, this day that year, I sink in mourning.

I was sitting on a mattress, basking merrily in front of my house,
Unaware of the tragic incident that had befallen on my terrace.

Something unusual happened for our poor household,

A car stopped near; curiously I raised my head,

I failed to see anyone through its opaque windows,

Only able to hear a sharp scream of a familiar voice.

I recognized the tone, guessed the situation

Even in my naive psyche, I reached a conclusion,

The extremely reliant shade over my head had blown away,

The scream was that much convincing for me in every way.

Insanely I run towards my home without verifying the things,

Cuddling my affectionate sister-in-law I began crying.

I was about to visit later that day my hospitalized father,

My teacher, guide, doctor, freedom fighter, ideal, he was no more.

The boat of my life became orphan losing its boatman untimely,

The finger that was to show me the ways was lost in the eternity.

These tears, that flows now with my pen on the papers,

Are insufficient tributes towards the great man and his glare.