Drudging my way through narrow pavements of dusty roads,
cycling with all my friends,
I played hide and seek with them
in a joyous mood,
round the tall and bushy trees
and cemented constructions
of a beautiful park,
When all of a sudden,
a man with probing eyes,
plunging into a black woolen blanket,
holding a long bamboo stick,
seating cross legged in a corner,
beside a cup of gleaming viscous liquid,
gazed at me,
Puzzled and terrified,
I began to run helter skelter
towards the exit of the grave,
When I heard, he was whispering aloud,
My boy! Where are you running!
Only to return here, back, soon? ? ?
*This poem speaks about the mood swings from delight to despair and happiness to horror. A man in his boyhood days was cycling along with his friends in a joyful mood around the large trees and bushes of a beautiful park. All of a sudden, the place seemed to him as a grave and a strange man with a peculiar wardrobe and a wooden stick emerged and frightened the boy who was running to the exit of the place, by whispering aloud that he has to return to this place one day.