By Vishakha Dubey
The night always seemed beautiful with these festive vibes,
And every heart pounded a little under such skies.
There I sat on a chair, trying to adjust to the chaos..
Hands gripping a book as tightly as possible,
As if something might be lost if I loosened my hold.
Each page pulled my eyes deeper within,
But my mind kept clutching the words of reality.
Everything around was perfectly still-
Though it wasn’t warm, the stillness made me
Look farther away from the book I once believed was mine.
But this time, it was not.
The sound of a leaf swirled in my ears,
Its subtle scratches echoing the fear
That my heart felt every time I began to tremble.
My memory lane moved as fast
As that train never meant to reach its destination.
My hands shook with each passing view.
Then these eyes—searching for a tiny corner to rest..
Caught sight of houses strung with lights,
Hanging from top to bottom,
As though something must look beautiful from the outside,
Even when, within, it hid obscure truths and lies.
And I kept staring,
Absorbing every single vibe that festive night offered..
Every sound the world played,
Every sparkle that lit up my eyes.
But then, a strange, unknown cold breeze came.
It felt as though it were meant to stay.
And the book-my anchor, my grip-
Fell to the floor.
Creases formed on its cover,
And the pages that were once open beneath the festive lights
Closed in the darkness.
And I remained seated..
Alone-
With those forever creases.