Memory Brigns Tears Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Occasional memory brings tears
Whole of the body looses sense and shivers
They are associated with mind’s active chamber
Where in past they were my protector and member

I remember that silent walk
Holding dad’s finger and no more talk
That is how I used to fear of great person!
He was at home in all the seasons

Mom may gear up with his on arrival
Start work with care after so me of the dismissals
He will politely convince the outcome
We will listen to his logic and welcome

Today he is no more but we cherish
Miss all his talks and face silently turn reddish
It was great shelter that he offered
Mom enjoyed so much even if principally differed

Brothers and sisters had equal fun
But we grew with responsibility in turn
It was fed to us to be alert and optimistic
Life was to be lived in terms so realistic

We knew very well when grew with age
It was certainly difficult task to manage
We may all count day’s earning
And sleep with bright tomorrow’s morning

Sun smiled on us with all blessings
We had everything and never felt it as missing
“God to favor those” we had mugged it by heart
Life was to be lived with challenge and as art

I may pass on the same logic
To my family members with all good magic
They must fare well of their own
Not name but person is to be remembered of his own

We know about great leaders and their names
We have nothing of that sort to claim
At least we can aim for future generation
To come up with new ideas and live with expectation