A memory of that dates back to a corner
A corner that witnessed the glory of pietism;
An year or an era of monolithic hypocrites
cursed everyone except for self
demanded change they couldn't follow;
Shades of the room would transform
likes the rumors and gossips
In the tiny smokey world;
A part of my memoir
Subjected or exposed to,
who were lost to eternal siesta,
who labelled self with fancy words
preaching right and doing wrong!
Today, I thank those souls,
poor personalities from rich families!
Who gave a perfect pitch
How life should not be!