Here where pits line the roads,
loss, we are so inured to in life:
wild-haired hero, when did you
go from warrior to zen master?
Breathing into the night,
the tricolour high:
we rose as one with you;
at the crest, now a vacuum
too hard to fill;
Now no artist the same,
that toils by sultry nights
in our backyard;
Who are you to us?
Lifting our spirits soaring
helicopter goes the sixer -
bouncing our sorrows off the park,
winning from death, the joy!
You are a memory
of the silvery night of hope
the miracle of faith
the tidal wave of belief
that engulfs adversity.
Go but you will never be gone
and a hundred such be born
in this your name, that in the stands
will yet never ring the same;
Aug 15, 2020
Aug 15, 2020 at 1:59 PM UTC
Here where pits line the roads,
loss, we are so inured to in life:
wild-haired hero, when did you
go from warrior to zen master?
Breathing into the night,
the tricolour high:
we rose as one with you;
at the crest, now a vacuum
too hard to fill;
Now no artist the same,
that toils by sultry nights
in our backyard;
Who are you to us?
Lifting our spirits soaring
helicopter goes the sixer -
bouncing our sorrows off the park,
winning from death, the joy!
You are a memory
of the silvery night of hope
the miracle of faith
the tidal wave of belief
that engulfs adversity.
Go but you will never be gone
and a hundred such be born
in this your name, that in the stands
will yet never ring the same;
Dedicated to MS Dhoni, the legendary former India cricket captain, who just announced his retirement
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