A pile of old, dusty electronics
stacked in a dim-lit room,
a desktop resting upon, a
CPU and a keyboard begloom,
lay beside a radio transistor, sending
signals for his rescue from approaching doom,
a television set, panting like an athlete after marathon
waiting for his results in the backroom,
a digital wall clock bidding adieu to its soul
which got merged in the air like a fume,
an octogenarian mobile phone and a smart watch downcast,
sprouting out of the pile like a germinating mushroom.
They used to be my all-time-best friends
and now they’re just like trash as anything else, I assume.
With every second and minute and hour ticking by,
our world of advancing and sprinting technology blooms;
every time I come in here, my past rewinds,
I just want to stick here for a moment, and get subsumed.
“Mariah!” I called my humanoid robot assistant,
“We gotta clean this; go get a broom.”
-Khushi Daksh
Second Year
English Hons.
[Edited by Nilabja Das
Art Curated by Basundhara Jana]
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