IN MEMORY OF DR M K SINHA

And when the sun sets, and darkness descends

We have to cross the river.

No pain, no sorrow, no dirge, no lamentation.

Why do you cry, my friend?

Let us be true to earth,

Let us be true to life.

Let us go to an alien land

And cultivate, and make rows of flower beds,

And drink honey, and sleep on the heavy boughs of stars.

Let us look at the humongous dark trees

And bath in the mellowed dew, in morn and evening too,

And lie on long untrammeled grass.

Let us scent the wild flowers

And hear the humming bees,

And see all day the spotted, streaked, speckled butterflies.

Let us make a bonfire

And pass the moaning night clasping hands together,

Beside a bare cottage amid a forest deep.