I remember those sleepless nights,
When silence screamed beneath the lights.
No busy markets, no theatres bright—
Just fear that stayed all day and night.
I watched the clock with tear-stained eyes,
While smoke curled slow in mourning skies.
No chants, no crowd, no final prayer—
Just fire and ash and thinning air.
I saw the nurse with trembling hands,
The doctor making silent stands.
Their eyes were red, their hearts were sore,
Yet still they walked back through that door.
I saw the man near burning ground,
Where sorrow had no space or sound.
The pyres rose, one after one,
Till wood and will were both undone.
Some lay alone, no kin, no name,
No shoulder there to light the flame.
Even the fire seemed to weep,
For souls sent off with none to keep.
I heard the cries from shuttered walls,
From empty lanes and hopeless calls.
A child stared blank at screens gone dim,
And asked if Ma would come to him.
I heard the chants from distant street,
For food, for breath, for death’s defeat.
I saw the priest with mask and thread,
Whisper rites for rows of dead.
Each night I clutched my chest in dread,
And named the ones we’d lost or led.
We feared each touch, each cough, each breath—
We feared not life, we feared death’s depth.
But still, a lamp in window stayed,
A sign we’d not yet been betrayed.
And strangers stretched their hands in grace,
Though veiled by cloth, I saw each face.
We stitched the broken days with care,
With folded palms and whispered prayer.
Though sleepless nights still haunt my mind,
I know we rose, we tried, we climbed.
Yes, I remember all the pain—
The fire, the loss, the helpless rain.
But now I walk where children play—
And that alone, brings back the day.
Susanta Pattnayak
Remembering those COVID Pandemic days.
