Hangs on, just holds on this house
Kids’ chatter no more knows this house,
A ghost-like life grows in this house.
It hangs on still in deep hunger
Of sounds. To stillness bows this house.
Clean tiles waiting to be muddied,
Soiled floor no more shows in this house.
Wishful hopes long turned to despair,
Heard are wails of woes in this house.
Where’s he, long hailed by this name plate?
Seeds of doubt now sows in this house.
Doors duly locked for a while now,
Void stares through windows in this house.
Hum of life no more in this house,
What sombre chill goes in this house!
_____________________________
Ghazal | 05.12.2025 | children, house, memories, old age, pathos
Note: Human body is like a house on hire and gets old before one realizes. Yet, well before that it lives through thousand hopes, aspirations, and expectations, many of them dying as mere hopes--unrealized. Old age is the last phase of life, but far from its end. Body gets old, hopes nor mind. In this ghazal, old age is looked at as an old house that has seen many of these hopes slipping away. Memories only what remain.
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