Tuesday, 1 September 2015

Her Window.

She stood by the window pane,
while water poured from the heavens above,
trying to catch droplets of water on her tongue;
She was just seven,
a mere dove.


She smiled by the same window,
after topping her first test;
and cried while sitting next to it,
when she couldn't give her best.


She had her first cigarette by that very window,
flicked the ashes off the pane;
swore never to try it again,
nor to drag her lungs through that pain.


She had her first beer, 
by that very window,
and also announced to her husband,
that she was going to have a kiddo!


The window gave her support,
it made her look outside.
It was transparent for her,
like a friend by her side.

Even now when she walks,
with wobbly knees and a stick,
she sits on a cozy green chair,
by the same window;
even when she's sick.


- Ragini Zutshi Anand