With him I shared my tennis racket,

My joy and sorrows and my leather jacket

He was the one I found standing ground

When there was no one around

He met she and I was told

They were precious to me, more than gold!

And then I saw them fall apart,

His punching bag and his speaking tree

His last air-bender that was me

I lied; I tried and played old pranks

I dated beauties and I dated cranks

There was someone to advice

Always around to help me rise

For all I know, he would never read

But he kept his wisdom by the bead

Between us was this stronger thread

Born apart, together bred

Before we knew it, came the days

We had to pick our different ways

I hoped and prayed that our paths would cross

We were hung on a bit of floss

…and it all seemed to end

Years later he emerged,

Looking different was the trend

I looked through him and saw his heart

And yet still, he was my friend

–              By Abhinandan Chatterjee