As I Go

Art by: Carl Larrson

The half-a-century old house,

the battered walls,

dusty flowers,

ants peeking through the cracks in the floor,

just like they do from my veins.

The old armchair

creaks when I shift.

I can see my shape in the black cat's eyes,

watery and wiry;

I get up for a glass of water

but I don't.

I am sitting on the worn-out chair

but it is out of my sight.

The house is too noisy;

someone keeps repeatedly saying 'body’,

I wonder who died.

I call my daughter on the phone

but she's already here.

I take a deep breath and run my fingers through my silver scalp

but my breath gets caught;

my hands are held by the marigold sticks.

I want to check if the doors are open, the gas switched off, the geyser, the Godrej—

I feel it.

I am being lifted.

I am being lifted.

My worst fears are coming true.

I am to go all alone.

- Anwesha Kashyap

B.A (Hons.) History

[Edited by Debaruna Bhattacharjee and Mehak Aggarwal

Art Curated by Ritika Mittal]