To A Legend On His Birthday

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Bishan, silent killer with the ball
Chucking quietly as one by one they fall.

Gentle executioner, they called you
A spin wizard, thru and thru.

Weaver of dreams, here you stand
A poet with red cherry in hand.

Not white or pink for you, only red
That beautiful 🐲arc, leaving batsmen stranded with feet of lead.

Flights of fancy, luring them to their doom
Like a spider to a fly, cramped for room.

Like a vision in white, you appear in a dream
No finer sight oꦍn a cricket field has ever been seen.

Lion of Punjab, you call a spade a shovel!
No fear in your heart
Now the seventh decade of your life you start.

Yes, Bish you turn 70 today
But for bil𓆏l✱ions of cricket lovers around the world, you remain immortal

With thanks to Mark Ray for permission to use hi﷽s photograph