A Festival celebrations holidays were on
And a pleasure to go swimming every morn
With friends to the open Arabian sea.
Noticed a war-ship anchored onto the sea.
Hey, buddy, let’s go up to the ship there
Touch and go, who comes first to the shore.
As we were about to approach the ship
Saw some soldiers pointing guns at us.
Fled like a frightened fish seeking the shore
Forgetting who reached first and who the last.
A word went round the town as of caution
As it was the time of the Second World War.
Nothing happened for the next few days
And the ship had gone one fine morning.
But we learnt the lesson of how to swim
Against the tide and also with the tide.
I carry about with me this diary as a treasure
As the lasting perfume, not as a past pleasure
The poem is an account of my childhood days
Dr. Ram Mehta
Sixth Place win:
In Give me your best shot by John Freeman