- - - - Life of panchu - a small waste- -:
Long thirty years ago, with the length of thirty long summers it was a school room,
A dark - skinned, thin, weak boy came to school,
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He got married, rather immatuted family responsibility he put on him, Shabby rough practicability sucked all his heroic charms, Cold icy hand of social roughness
New, energetic, confident he was with the school that offered her devoted followers. No fear, no hesitation but respectful gaze he casted on teachers who ordained punishment.
Thirty years passed but that weak weakling still in mind my playing and notching the game of life, Uttering my name in silent helplessness.....maharaj
Thirty years passed but that weak weakling still in mind my playing and notching the game of life, Uttering my name in silent helplessness.