The memory of that day, is still fresh in my mind,
Which forced me to admit that to achieve,
Is to do something painful.
I was in the country’s best institution.
The site of its vastness at a glance,
Gave me the idea of the truthfulness of its saying.
But as I entered the hostel, the grand image
Went off crashing in my mind.
I had the best vision at the room,
As if it’s only support was the four broken walls,
The fan was, as if crying to repair it,
The room was so spacious that the two beds were clashing with a small study,
It was as if inviting the two poor persons named-‘students’
Saying-“Share your servile, your sorrows, no one is there for you”.
A small cupboard in the corner filled with memories
Of the students, their afflications, their loneliness,
And the space was only to walk and sleep.
I still remember that day, that bed on which I lay,
Allowing my eyes to leave the sorrow, to flow,
But there was not a single tear in my brother’s eyes,
For he knew that he was a student, and has to
Remain there for complete five years of his life.