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Simran Bhatia



Simran Bhatia


I Was In Disguise

I Was In Disguise

1 min 340 1 min 340

In a big hall, but small rooms, rooms with babies 

Rooms with oldies 

Rooms with young but bodily old.

Sits there team of people with purpose, people with goals, ambition and will

Will to save but not money.

Something more precious instead is to watch those lives look into this world with glee,

Instead, those lives which leave the world sometimes with delight,

Sometimes with dread.

Sometimes they want to die is the new form of living.

I sat there peeping in the lives of these with courtesy but sometimes in vain.

I sat there wondering whether it is sufficient for a touch too painful to heal. Weird but true.

I sat there with someone who helped me have a glance into his world.

The world of dead but living, the world of only one culture named flesh with skin, blood, and bones. 

World of anxieties and that of adrenaline rush. World of needles and bags and cannula.

I sat there feeling hope in the air, the hope of ambition in some and hope of passion in some. 

I sat there admiring work, ethics, and compliance.

I sat there watching people who wondered my presence to help them in and out.

I was not the one they were asking for. 

I was in disguise sitting with the doctors aspiring to write this poem.

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