The sky seemed heavy
The sun was hidden
The veil as if it fell
From the beauteous facade
Of that terrible day.
It was raining heavy, thundering
The train was on schedule
And gliding up the trail.
I watched outside the window
As the little drops of rain
Came hailing down at us.
I saw a drop of rain
As it slid as dainty as could be
Slowly down the glass.
I watched it well to see
It could hold on how long
Meandering on the glass
As cool as a fairy in the wind
As it’s told in the books
And then it caught my sight
There was a heavy drop
Sliding, rather, dragging across.
I didn’t like the look of it
Coming hurling at the dainty one.
It creeped into its sphere
And pulled it down
That vile existence.
I watched as it tumbled down
Pulling along the little ones
And then at last came the end
As that monstrous drop fell off.
I watched the others for a while
How if one was too heavy
It pulled the others along
To its own devilish end.
I didn’t know how long it was
That I had stared at them all
But then my eyes were heavy too
And I dozed off to sleep
But the worse part was when
I woke up to a chilly dawn
In that leather seat of train
And looked again at the window pane
And saw that it was warm
And there was no sign of water on it
Except one little drop
Sheltered under a crook
Isolated from the open plane.
It had rolled its way there
Sheltered, safe and one
And the only one.

~Adritah

Oceans are deep
They seem endless
And profound.
They look still
But harness the power
In their deep.
They are great
Vast, magnificent
The giver of life
And so much more.
What about the river
That’s born from glaciers
That weathers the rocks
And survives the odds?
The river which is happy
And cheerful, jubilant
Despite all it’s fighting.
What about the river
That crosses all boundaries
And unites the people?
What about the river
That waters each grass
The wild or exotic?
But at the end
Does not the river too
Meet the ocean again
Bury the chaos
All the trouble within
And keep still above
To guide the ships
And the yachts?
So,
Which is greater
The ocean or river?

~Adritah

They say we live in a new world.
This new world we are proud of.
There is pride.
There is worth.
There is always something to look forward to.
There is always something to look in awe at.

Is that all we need?
Is this the world we need?
Is this the world we dream of?

This new world we live in,
Where humanity is a business,
Where charity is a pride,
Where abuse is called strength,
Where aids are given like loans.

They say we live in a new world.
This new world we are proud of,
Is it worth it?

~Adritah

I was watching a girl
She had taken out a paper
And some colours
She looked around
Not knowing what to draw.
This was when a little bird
Came scuttling down
From a lower branch.
It wasn’t a sparrow
Or a crow, or raven
Or any other I knew.
It ****** his head to a side
Picked his wings
And flew at her.
It perched on her arm
Still perking his head
Examining her.
And then he said
Something his language
Which she didn’t understand
Nor did I
But it was approval
Maybe friendship
Mostly the latter
Because it stayed there
On her arm
Admiring her paper.
She looked pleased
It was not something big
But it was something
She might have loved
To remember.
The girl took up her pencil
And started to sketch
A little frail body
And then a beak
Then a long slender tail
Then the wings
And the beady eyes.
Her lines were sloppy
Each stroke trembling
The eyes like eggs
And tail like leaf
She looked at it
And she probably thought
What I was thinking
But then she looked at the bird
Which tapped on it
And danced a little
As if pleased by the effort
Of his new friend.
She was pleased
And I was convinced.
She rolled it up
And put it in the bag.
The bird flew off
And I had to go.
Now I remember
Suddenly, it’s been a year.
I wonder if the bird remembers
Of the encounter
But I remember
Because I know
The girl remembers
Or I think so
She’s my neighbour
And wakes up each dawn
To scatter little grains
To a flock of birds
Which look exactly like that
And once she’s done
She waves at them
Then pulls the curtain.
Now I think
The imperfect drawing
Was better than an empty paper.

~ Adritah