In my dark little room br Somewhere in the corner br In the dim lamp light br I saw one small object br Its my old class text book br br I took it into my hands br Cleaned the dust over it br Flipped the pages slowly br While recalling past stories br That had made me old br br I read it with tiny hands br It was meant to be a tale br To memorize and score br But now hands changed br So the meaning of tales too br br I read and closed the book br Kept it aside the dim lamp br Then in the same dark corner br I saw one more torn book br It's my own hearts written talebr br Kranthi Pothinenibr br