A Decade of Ranjiv: Poems, Memory, and Love
Ten years on, we remember my brother Ranjiv with poems from Dad and me—and with the love that still holds us.
It’s the ten-year anniversary of Ranjiv’s passing. Time has moved forward, but grief doesn’t follow a straight line, and love doesn’t fade on a schedule.
Today, I’m sharing two poems—one from me, and one from Dad—along with audio recordings. If you’re reading this as family or a friend, thank you for keeping him close with us.
Music Video
Music video celebrating Ranjiv’s ten-year anniversary
Listen
Rik (Audio)
Dad (Audio)
Poems
Rik
Ten years have passed, yet still I stay,
Measuring time the old same way.
Rekha, the baby you held close and tight
Now she walks alone into her light,
A teenage strength, calm and true,
The very strength she learned from you.
Roy, Born when you were weak and ill;
Stands quiet now, yet strong of will,
Carrying you without a sound,
With steady feet on solid ground.
He looks at Estelle with trusting eyes,
The same deep love you showed to Ma.
Pa’s heart once failed, then found its beat,
Through Ma’s resolve and doctors’ deeds.
They stitched his life back seam by seam,
And taught the heart again to dream.
Ma no longer cries each day,
Yet cracks remain that will not sway.
A broken heart that chose to live,
With all the pain the years still give.
Pa and Ma left that old front door,
The house held you in every floor.
Your fingerprints on every wall,
Your silent steps in every hall.
Stephanie came to your hometown,
Just as she promised, true and bound.
With family near, she gently brought
The memories time could never lock.
I still cry softly, all alone,
For missing you has no clear tone.
Ten years now gone, you’d be forty-four,
A number that still shakes my core.
We miss you still, yet understand,
You rest now in a better land.
Still I see you in Sodnac’s place,
Teasing Ma, stealing her space,
Hugging her far too strong, too long,
As if your leaving was all wrong
Dad
Let us move on
From the past long gone.
Memories will carry on
For as long as life shall go.
Let us move on
But the loss will not go
For someone full of glow
Who now remains in the shadow.
Let us move on
One decade already gone
The ghost of the past will roam
But in the present we bow
For the future to bring us a glow.
Memories shall remain on
As a candle that gives a faint glow
Until the Memories go
From the grieving shadow.
So let us move on
To future we go
Until we become a glow
In the world of eternal glow.
Reflection
There are days when the absence feels quiet, and days when it feels loud. But the love that shaped Ranjiv—and the love he gave back—still shows up in the way we speak about him, the way we hold each other, and the way we keep going.
I think of Sodnac and of the small, ordinary moments that now feel sacred: laughter in the house, familiar teasing, and the kind of closeness that didn’t need words. Those memories don’t erase the grief, but they do soften its edges.
I also think of our family’s strength—especially Ma’s love. It’s steady, enduring, and real. It carries the weight of what we’ve lost, and it still makes room for warmth, for care, and for life.
I’m grateful to everyone who has checked in over the years, shared stories, and said his name. We carry Ranjiv forward in the ways we love, the ways we look after one another, and the ways we choose hope even when it’s hard.
Closing
If you can, please listen to the audio versions of the poems—they mean a lot to us. And if you feel comfortable, share a memory of Ranjiv (Email me at rikesh@gmail.com): something he said, something he did, or a moment that still makes you smile.
Photos
