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MY SINGING STAR

Annual days in our University existed before too, only in annals,
Until the day, she on the ramp thrilled our hearts that came to the ears;
We had ‘Abbey Road on the River’; we lived in our souls and became ears,
That heard the first time ‘unheard melodies’ reverberating through Lit annals.

The Nightingale of India would’ve left her oriole and put her in musical panels;
The roaring Moor would’ve left Desdemona to live, riveting his ears for years,
The brooding Ruth would’ve left her diffidence to dance sprightly for years,
To the thrill of her voice, sounding end to sittings of juries, forever in annals.

She could’ve sung ‘they’re gonna make a big star out of me,’
But, that would’ve rivaled the great Beatles; she could’ve her ‘Jai Ho’ 
That would’ve made Mozart of Madras again dedicate glory to Him.

Lyrics she required not, for, it’s in the listeners’ glee;
Lyres she required not, her voice throbs humans in harmony, robbing ego;
Life is un-lived, if you have no ears for my singing star, not even Him.

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