Posted in Poem

The Last Few Calls

You came across these words
Glad, probably intrigued
Hence, here I assume you have a shelter to retreat
I know you can read;
I wish you understand.

The world has come to a standstill; even though for a brief timid while-
It had been all over the headlines
But there’s a mother in a village who knows not why-
The world is shutting down
While her’s isn’t even around.
What went wrong? Why was the voice trembling in those last few calls?
A wife cooks that humble delicacy now reduced to two or even one meal
She might not understand the written-
But deciphers the silent cries in those last few calls.
The little children roaming around had been asked to stay home
While their mother struggles to get their lessons right
They wish their father’s stories were a little more convincing over those last few calls.

-Ruchi Bhardwaj

Posted in Doodles, Experience, Poem

The House In The Village

After years of dodging; every occasion with a more bitter excuse
Finally came a day when somehow the visit just couldn’t be refused
From far away, that house in village stood still and tall
Now haunted with lifelessness
On inside did it suddenly grow small?
Or was it the memory of it that brimmed with grandeur?
The windows creak
The walls reek
Spiders smile weaving a trap of nostalgia
The garden once full of roses and lemons is now musty;
Haunted by emptiness somehow braved through my grandmother’s beliefs-
Evident by the statue of Shiva I remembered since I could remember;
Survived lessons from my cousins teaching me to play games-
While I stood there being timid, young and shy.

Monkeys in the yard
My aunt’s smirky remarks
Talking to uncles altogether a hurdle-
I knew I never would fit in there,
Now affirmed.
Yet the lullaby from past lingered longer
Singing to me of a wish why did I let go so easy-
So early at an age so tender!
Alas! Now it is too late to return
Only reminscence, what hath been done cannot be undone.