I, father of two well settled sons, am always sad
Since no one is around to call me dad.
Both of them are happy in their own life
Never thought of their parents whether(or not) they are alive.
I’m spending my life in this gloom
Refuse to come out of my room.

One day, on my journey to Haridwar in search of peace
I found an old woman, happy and pleased.
She sits under a broken sheet of tin;
Treats every passer as her kin
She is busy in feeding the birds;
And feeling content in no man’s herd.

I wondered, how can she be enjoying in this state
Living all by herself, without any aid.
She offered me tea; I asked, “What about your family?”
She said with same simplicity, “I have four sons all settled in town
They are all happy, why should I frown?
I am glad like a bird, who enjoys even if not in a herd.
Her kids also grow up and fly
She is left alone but doesn’t cry.
We can’t survive if we are in a habit of crying
That takes closer to dying
Why should I mourn for things which are gone
Instead let’s celebrate things which we own.”

These words from her wrinkled lips
Forced me to rethink my life’s trip.
I have started enjoying life by then
Realizing, I am one of the ones blessed
With my wife and my friends around
Much better than those who wait for a sound.