The refugee camp

The little girl asked her mother, “ma what do you remember about home?”
Mother got a glazed look in her eyes; stared into the horizon, out of their tent in the refugee camp. Images of the sunkissed rooms of her husband’s house; the huge bookshelf containing tattered books; the rolling hills which gave her shelter from her mother’s wrath; the smell of incense; the warm feeling down her neck on seeing her neighbour smile– all flashed past her within a few heartbeats. She had relived a lifetime within a few seconds. But when she saw her daughter’s eager young eyes, she said, “lala home is where you are. I don’t need to remember anything. I am home.” No joy was greater than seeing her daughter smile.



It still feels like the first time I saw them;
They burned like fire;
One look..
One look is all it took
to turn my soul to ashes.
The round of those eyes
was my world.
And I was an insignificant figure
somewhere in that expanse.
When they smiled
my heart leapt with joy.
When they wept
my soul exploded into minute fragments;
scattered like forgotten confetti.
I could see fire in them;
Could feel them burn my skin.
Those eyes-
They reduced me to mere ashes.
In the sea of those eyes,
I lost myself, never to be found again.
They engulfed me whole;
Captured my very essence.
It was those eyes–
They haunt me still…
Imploring and questioning.
They spoke million words
without uttering a sound.
They were my lifeline.
But one day…
One bloody day in May
they turned away,
never to look back again.
That day I lost my world;
That day I shut my heart;
That day I lost my soul.
Those eyes- they still
 burn me without a glance.