Shahrukh was the best friend of mine,
We studied together in childhood time,
He was always last in studies and line,
And never cares about the lessons fine.
When asked some questions about history,
He thought it as if was an Arabian mystery,
All laughed at his mess as if he was a jockey,
And I felt distressing for him and sorry.
Some of us became powerful collectors,
More intelligent became surgeons and doctors,
Shahrukh became a time pass jester,
He just wanted to be a Maulana clever.
The harsh strokes of life and forlorn,
There was no solace for him of any form,
Even the birds and animals have cozy sojourn,
But Shahrukh has no respite from thorns.
We all lost in lives joys and agony,
Some have sunlight, some have tales funny,
Shahrukh sat with his Holy Book on balcony,
No one was there to pull him out of tragedy.
Shahrukh ooze out now and them to enlighten,
Lamenting about lost days failed to brighten,
After a cup of tea, some gossip and illusion,
All desire him to go as early and forgotten.
For all, Shahrukh and his ideas were crass,
All achieve a little less or more, they brass,
But Shahrukh lost in his prayers and mass,
That he wanted to fly with Arabian trash.
Always “Do thy Duty because Work is Worship,”
Sluggish army can be routed yet with biggest warship,
Karma is the highest religion and worship,
It can defeat the life’s harshest whip.
