While leaving those gates I promise myself,
This is the last time;
Next time, I won’t cry.
I start well with my promise.
We meet and greet; celebrate distances and time between us.
The entire day is spent in unstoppable revelry,
With no account of time or count of the same stories repeated.
Afternoons go by lazing on the green grass or dry rocks,
Waving to familiar faces and embracing the known hugs.
We recollect anecdotes and are reminded of fallen leaves of the past.
But by the time it is evening and time to depart;
Walking along side friends who were inseparable,
In times of bitter quarrels, silent wars and loud cheers;
All I can do is hold them close but cannot hold my tears.
Like every time, I make a promise to myself.
And every time I feel good that I wept.
I am lucky to have a shoulder to wet, forever.
– Kanishka Mallick (1996 Batch)