Page 30 of Tiger's Destiny

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By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Home they brought her warrior dead:

She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:

All her maidens, watching, said,

She must weep or she will die.

Then they praised him, soft and low,

Called him worthy to be loved,

Truest friend and noblest foe;

Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,

Lightly to the warrior stepped,

Took the face-cloth from the face;

Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,

Set his child upon her knee

Like summer tempest came her tears

Sweet my child, I live for thee.

Nilima wept softly at Kishan’s side while I continued, “It’s hard for me to express my feelings, much like the girl in the poem. Mr. Kadam, you were my surrogate parent, and I felt as connected to you as I did to my own.” I choked, and my voice cracked. I whispered, “I don’t know how I’m going to make it without you. I miss you so much already. I’ll do my best to help your princes, and I will always try to honor you. I love you.”

Kishan put his arm across my shoulders, and I stepped into his embrace, wrapping my arm around his waist. Ren stepped forward and spoke last.

“Kishan has given a warrior’s eulogy and to it I would add my own. I honor you also my friend and father. You were steadfast in affliction and unwavering in support. You deserve a hero’s memorial. Humbly, we offer our admiration, our respect, and our love.”

Ren read a poem he’d brought with him.

THE DESERTED HOUSE

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Life and Thought have gone away

Side by side,

Leaving door and windows wide.

Careless tenants they!

All within is dark as night:

In the windows is no light;

And no murmur at the door,

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