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The Window
Light and dust streamed in
to play on her closed eyes.
Another day was born
another day of routine monotony.
A soft knock
A coffee tumbler and ‘dhawara’ pushed in
who else but by her kind maid?
Lakshmi sipped her coffee slowly
an outcast in her own home.
The door her ‘lakshman rekha’.
No friend nor foe would cross it
nor she.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner
in seamless sequence
for 25 years.
And they would ‘ad infinitum’.
An icy wall curved round her
and no one cared to break it
the least her husband.