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In the vast hall,
Hanging on the wall,
An old black-and-white photograph beckoned.
A friend, visiting my new flat, looked at it.
His curiosity evident
“Is this your hometown?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied, with a faint smile.
“So beautiful even just looking at it
Brings peace,” he said.
Lush green trees,
Gentle breezes, kind glances,
Warm greetings,
Friends, neighbors, relatives—
Uncles, aunts, sisters, brothers
There was trust.
Togetherness untouched by loneliness
If you reached out, another hand was always ready to meet yours.
After hearing me, the friend leaned closer.
His voice dropping to a whisper:
"Now? Does it still exist?"
“Almost gone,”
I murmured.
"Not just that place
I am no longer the same either."
With eyes shadowed by moist reflections,
I murmured softly,
As though the memories themselves trembled in response.
Image © Varala Anand |
