Never can I forget that dark winter night;
“It is me, you filthy blood!” rang a voice
I thought I heard a clinking sound,
Followed by a cry so shill and a faint wail;
My heart pumped out, more sweat, than blood;
“Is she here? No, It can’t be!” I thought
“Oh God, Save me!” uttered I, touching the switch;
The lights went on and I sat up still…..
Deep in my mind, there, she stood;
She seemed to have shifted in, all for good;
Red was her saree and scarlet were her eyes,
Torn were her robes and broken was her voice!
Her pale-dry lips opened and closed,
From her mouth, strange sounds echoed!
I caught a few words as they flew past;
Ringing in my ears, they burnt my soul!
“Not fair!” she cried…I saw her so close to me
“You think you are god?” …. all went dark..
I thought I died…a red round bindi was all I could see,
She gave a final screech and then she left….
That winter evening, when I walked down the lane,
I came across this lady crying with pain;
She begged for money and saw me refuse,
She pleaded again and a coin I threw..
I watched the coin roll, down the streets,
I saw the lady run with bare feet…
Her baby on her arms, she ran till the end,
She bent with haste to grab the coin near the bend…
