We weren’t Rancho, Farhan, or Raju —
But one of us definitely ran, one froze, one just knew.
No one rode a scooter into the sunset,
But we did walk like the world owed us regret.
There was always a Bunny, chasing cities and thrill,
And an Avi, waiting with patience he couldn’t fill.
We cracked like Kabir, held grudges like Arjun,
But made up over snacks — healing, version fun.
One cracked the joke, one was the joke,
One just filmed it — like Imran, but broke.
We weren’t Jai-Veeru, brave or bulletproof,
But we sang badly and sucked— that’s enough truth.
Someone carried Aman’s chaos, always the clown,
Someone stayed like Rohit — quiet but never down.
It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t wise,
But we had loyalty in mismatched size.
And when we walk alone in some future storm,
This photo will remind us of our original form.
Not perfect, not famous, not even in frame —
Just present. Just us. And that’s always been the aim.
