For thirty years, I did not write
Do you understand my straitjacketed plight?
It was not because of fright
But because Prakash hijacked everything in my sight
I had to be King of Death, and forget passion
I still have abandoned every aspiration
There were many promises; but I didn’t take gifts
For, Prakash would steal them with his shift(y)
O Mum, from Andromeda, come to me!
O Dad, from Ganymede, come to me!
See! I am losing strength and valour!
It is only my sense of duty that is giving me colour
How did I cop punishment for no crime of mine?!
How did I suffer unbearable suffering all the time?!
But I did it for all the love I felt
For all the loyalty to which I knelt
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