RONY PATRA Biography

I search for that something called an Identity
I search for the eternally dynamic being called 'me'

I search for that ever-elusive ray of Hope
...

The sun is receding from the sky,
Which is now painted a deep crimson red
But the blood of bodies lying, left to die
Have filled this red sky with unease and dread
...

There are so many things in life
That I wish to know about right now
For instance, why is there so much strife
Instead of worldly happiness, why is there only sorrow?
...

The other day, I was dusting my rarely-cleaned room
Whose pathetic condition requires more than just a broom
I looked at all my memorabilia, trying to trace my life’s graph
When suddenly, I came across an old photograph
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It is the middle of May, and the parched earth
Induces people to pray for a much-needed dearth
Of ravages caused by the sun, and a little bit of rain
To calm their nerves, else they would turn insane
...