Even Ugly Ducklings Sing Swan Songs

Summer 2000.It was a good year.
Clearing school and stepping into
the big league of science undergrads,
we were smart and sure,
we were likable lads.

For the first time there I saw,Joy.
An overaged,quiet,unassuming boy.
Battling evils in his head,
he walked unafraid of life or death.

He shone,but he never paraded,
he sang,but never too loud,
he spoke and you stood still,
Joy,was making his parents proud.

That year,something broke inside me,
by the end,everyone despised me,
rather than see them take down another,
I was ready to perish for this new found brother.

We teamed to the top,
picked trophies at will,
we did it with honesty,
we did it until,
'Life' happened.


Both friends and faculty,
advanced hand in hand,
why we wouldnt toe the line,
they failed to understand.
Mind games and reputation losses,
and so we were out to get the bosses.
I raised a voice at their politics,
disgraced their favourites,
taking the weakest and meekest of the flock,
we formed an unforgiving group,
in the face of the favoured troupe,
against this army of wounded voices,
they were afraid of making choices.

When the edifice of vanities crashed,
I do not know,
but putting people in their right place,
I had to go...

From this I learnt,
when the chips are down,
rats scurry for water's edge,
and you are alone against the town.
Still I had a little Joy left right?

but...Before college started,
one day Joy,left,
without word,he came,
to the capital to claim,
a career,
I feared,
I prayed,
'you were his best friend',his parents had said.

Today I am in your town,
I seek you with little luck,
buddy,you are the reason everyone hates me,
and for many faults implicate me,
and for that there is gratitude unsaid.


I dont know if the growth in your head,
has subsided or laid you forever in bed,
but people will always know of you,
as long as I walk here too.

There is a little God in all of us,
to whom we have to pray,
not through flowers or chants,
but just by getting him home everyday.
This God is for you to shape,
for you to mould,
when you decide to run for silver,
you deny him a crack at gold.
When you hurt,
when you kill,
do you know
you create ill will?
Gods cannot live in carcasses,
so they leave,
leaving chains of unseen pains,
so you can,your own evil idol weave.

This is not a parting shot,
it is attempt at a lingering thought,
keep the God inside you pure,
and you will be happy for sure.