“In battle, In the forest, at the precipice in the

mountains, On the dark great sea, in the midst of

javelins and arrows, In sleep, in confusion, in the

depths of shame - The good deeds a man has done

before, defend hIm”

PRAMOD

Is not to die.

To live in hearts

That we leave behind,

For You have just gone

to a city where the roses

never fade.

It was not your flesh and blood, but your heart which made you

a Son and then a Father.

Dearest Prem,

What was silent in the Father, speaks

in the son; and often in the son lies the

unveiled secret of the Father.

Mothers hold their children's hands

for a short while, but their hearts

forever.

From being a good Son,

You took the next step…

And

Became a good Husband

In your love was seen the Beauty of your Soul.

You were and are the God and the

weight of Pallavi’sworld.

Walk beside me and be my Friend…

Your role in society, or any artist's or poet's role, was to try and express what we all

feel. Not to tell people how to feel. Not as a preacher, not as a leader, but as a reflection of us

all.

"All the days ordained for me

were written in Your book

before one of them came to be."

(Psalm 139:16b, NIV)

Your last journeY home….

God saw they were their happiest and someone would not let that be. So He put his arms around them and whispered "Come with Me".

With tear filled eyes we watched them, suffer and fade away. Although we loved them deeply, We could not make them stay.

A golden heart stopped beating,hard working hands put to rest.God broke our hearts to prove to us,“He only takes the best”