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Metamorphosis of Familiar Faces-7

by Gayathri Devi Dutt
(Bangalore, India)




Guardian of the Institution


He came not with degrees of fame
But with duty etched in his name
just twelve classes behind him then,
Yet carried the weight like seasoned men.

Appointed not for what he knew
But for a life that fate withdrew.
Compassion opened the guarded gate
And there he stood defying fate.

From desk to door he knew it all,
Every corridor ,every call.
He bridged the gaps none else could see,
A quiet force of loyalty.

Faculty labs, the scattered files,
He stitched them all with patient miles.
The guards would miss what he would catch
Even shadows dared not scratch.

Sweet tempered soul with sharpened eyes.
who held no grudges, voiced no sighs.
He bore the past the place had grown.
It's memory deeper than stone.

He trimmed his weight,his life refined
Yet bore burdens than he signed.
His mother's nurse, his brother's guide,
A household held with humble pride.

Then came the stranger with no name
A silent thief a twisted flame.
Barre's cruel hand began to play,
And health like sand, just slipped away.

No cure. no turn , no mercy found.
Pneumonia attacked, cold and unannounced,
He left us not with fear or rage,
But silence deeper than the page.

The Institute, once lit and sure,
Now echoes steps across the floor.
Without his presence, something breaks
A light withdrawn, a soul that wakes
In whispered files and empty chairs,
In keys still hung on winding stairs.

***

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