Twenty one summers later, I found him again,
Traces of familiarity bloomed; one brought
Me a glimpse of children savouring candy floss,
Others drew me close to informal songs I sought
To learn from his classic collection often thought
As plain; each composition in itself a train
Of emotions halted by ear-shattering clangs
Of the school bell. A broad, triumphant smile across
His sun-kissed face, his clothes without the slightest stain
Betrayed his customers; and an every-day loss
Became the price of kindness, selling free of cost
In exchange of happy, bubbling faces around.
And his neatly-crafted songs, untouched by the pangs
Of hunger, of meagre livelihood, of years lost
In spreading a wave of benevolent love, still sound
The same, merrier than all words I’ve ever crossed.
Satyananda Sarangi is a young civil servant by profession. A graduate in electrical engineering from IGIT Sarang, his works have been featured in The Society of Classical Poets, Snakeskin, Page & Spine, Glass: Facets of Poetry, WestWard Quarterly, The GreenSilk Journal and elsewhere. Currently, he resides in Odisha, India.