In a quiet evening
When the wind was blowing silently
And the crickets were whispering to each other,
A feather came flying from somewhere
And kissed my feet,
I bent down to pick it up,
But with the little push of the silent breeze,
It started to fly again.
Like a kid I followed it to get it.
I didn’t know where it was taking me.
I landed on a terrace of an old building.
The building seemed to be very well acquainted to me.
I looked around,
The terrace was deserted.
With only a few broken tables-chairs and a broken roof.
The broken tables-chairs and the roof seemed that
They were trying to say something to me.
That this terrace was once
Full of loud laughter,
Beautiful dance practices,
And what not….
The same happening and once crowded place
Was standing alone
When we all sat on those chairs for our assignments
And shouted, “Dada….chai…”
And Dada got perplexed where to go and where not.
I even remember those ques in the lunch
And our TV watching times.
After 15 years,
The stained walls remain empty without TV,
The once occupied chairs and tables
for which we fought and struggled remains empty.
The once college canteen stands all deserted,
For all its gone-by beautiful memories
And beautiful hustle-bustles
which kept it chirping and lively.
Today it’s silent cry
Made my eyes wet
And my heart filled with flashes of our good old days.