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Shreshtha Sengupta

Abstract Drama


Shreshtha Sengupta

Abstract Drama

The Lockdown Epiphany

The Lockdown Epiphany

2 mins 24.2K 2 mins 24.2K

You said that the gardens will never be green,

Skies will never be blue.

And now when I accompany these beautiful birds, the dusk is surprisingly serene.

But will you allow me to ask you some questions of distinct hue(s)?

You said that we are all incapable; our action is a mystery;

You snubbed that we will never become a superpower,

But will you now open your eyes, my dear?

And behold our superheroes making history!

You said that she was feeble;

her dreams all monochrome’

Progress in a downfall,

But I feel her tricolours in my tears,uncontrollable.

Yes, my dear she is your Mother India!

Let us all rise to her resonating clarion call!

You said that his hands were old;

His methods were obsolescent,

But I perceive him as the Man of Gold.

Tell me, who feeds you with his Aurous Harvest?

Yes, my dear, he is your benevolent farmer!

You said that he was indolent;

His desk full of those sealed files and shelved commitments,

But I do call him the Warrior so Great!

Who shields you with all his potent?

Yes, my dear, he is your valiant police!

You said that his work is nothing but worthlessness;

His soul smelt of stinking rubble,

But I salute him for his remarkable Godliness.

Who cleans all your filth without a grumble?

Yes, my dear, he is your impeccable sweeper!


 You said that he was apathetic;

His voice so hoarse and lessons always dull,

But I say he is the Firefly of the Night Sky, highly majestic.

Who equips you his priceless wisdom which is infinitely powerful?

Yes, my dear, he is your passionate teacher!

You said he was inhumane;

His eyes only riveted on the endless and inflated bills but not the lives,

But I hail him as the King of Magicians.

Who clasps your breath out of your illusory graves?

Yes, my dear, he is your considerate doctor!

You said that he is awfully jittery;

His melodies are in lockdown,

But I say that he is your Master, surprisingly chirpy.

Who makes you sing your favourite song in your glum meltdown?

Yes, my dear, he is your buoyant heart!

You said, “I have forgotten these sweet childhood memories”;

 You averred, “I am unable to put off my pile of worries away”.

But now you have enough time to tell me your untold stories,

  That’s because your poet is just a phone call away.

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