one old man coloured grey
walked down and stood on beachside way
looked fragile and posed like gandhi
in the cool breeze that sounded like a bee
...
oh! dear enemy don't be joyful
o'er my defeat
ii shall rise and fight
till you deem me as a kinght.
...
Mahatma, The Man In The Mist
one old man coloured grey
walked down and stood on beachside way
looked fragile and posed like gandhi
in the cool breeze that sounded like a bee
stood like a statue, stood like a stone
unnoticed and uncared by anyone
it's been long and tears roll down
for hunger made his stomach frown
it's night and all are gone
but man still stood all alone
unharmed by rumbling of storm
stiffened by cold winds turned to a shapeless form
oh! old man you are gone with the wind
and if babu returns he is like the man in the mist