Death lies ahead. The body grows old. This must be understood that it is my playmate and not me, my long-serving friend who will soon part with me. I remain the immovable master of this mansion, the mover of the instrument that devoted has served, loyal beyond bounds.
Deserted the war-field lies. The battles are lost and won. Scattered remain the early exploits, the spoils of sport in residual terms. The flame flickers here, there embers burn out with their dying breaths. The vast terrain seems deserted, the self forlorn. Such is this evening of life. All the passions lie inflicted with deathly wounds, all the forces of war spent in enemy fire as fragmented and forlorn I stand amidst the ruins of yesteryears, a philosopher seeking still the touchstone of life. The terrain stretches still, vistas yet opening unto the vast unknown. My life lingers on.
Written by Sugata Bose
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