Too Young to Die

A poem for my brother. Reflecting on life, family, and the passage of time.

In Remembrance

Memorial and Remembrance for Ranjiv

Too Young to Die

Once I was four years old, i told my mama “Pretty woman walking down the streah haha” Then she shouted at me and i said mama “You ugly woman, yacking down the stream yah”

That was then and the world was smaller And everything was so simpler and life was gentler My brother and I were running down the roads in Sodnac Drinking our dad’s secret stash of cognac

My world so full of love with my ma, pa and rik I raised my head and smiled because that was no trick I knew my daddy will carry me in his arms from my green car And Ma will tuck me not so far from my Rik

Then I became eleven years and I went to my daddy’s school Where I learnt to play a lot truant and lots of pool But I always remained no fool

Then adolescence came and with it a lot conflicting times Rik got all study and never spent any time with me, Dad got old with the pains of work My mama only remained sane to me just as a clockwork Of love, dispensing me with loads of it It was enough for my sanity

Then I became 18 years old And I flew to a very cold Place that was called Paris Never I knew she would be my mistress for the rest of my life She was not meant to be my wife This remains a mystery Why not, maybe because it was too much of misery

Then I turned 30 years old No longer was I a boy and Paris was no longer cold Paris was home, and I was surrounded by many friends Fighting all odds and ends, I found happiness and success In spite of all the mess Of what is life

Then I turned 33, and life ended With lots pain and tears were raining I could see my ma, pa pouring their life to save me. But even I could not save me.

This is my story It is not all merry But it was surrounded with lots of love Each time you see that dove In the sky, Think of me

Family Memories