Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)
To All The Sales Folks Who Worked Under Me
Gentlemen it was an honour to be on board,
Such rare and distinguished men are not made any more.
I was not a worthy leader, I was and am aware of my sores.
But each one of you were worthy leaders, let me tell you my folks.
I have never ever flinched, from leading you up front,
In true tradition, the bullet must first find my chest on the crux,
Never have I looked back, and never did I found you wanting,
Your dedication to my immense blackness was never a faltering.
Sons of great mothers you are, you rise from noble dust,
Not without a reason you worked for the eagle that soared upward.
I never lost a moment and I thank you for that,
To learn every single trick, you were champions and adept,
Amazed, awed, and humbled at your might prowess,
With tears hidden in the corner of my eyes,
I lead you with the greatest pride.
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