In his last few days, grandpa took me to a ghostly worship place,
far-far away from the dissonance of the city.
Unperturbed by any human trace, I was both enthralled and bewitched by the silence of its enormity.
As he prayed, I sat outside gazing at this monstrous mammoth tree
which was perhaps as old as my theistic grandpee.
Hundreds of parrots, sparrows and squirrels chirped from its abode,
Perhaps singing songs to keep company to that lonely road.
My grandfather prayed for what seemed like an eternity
and I was getting anxious by the details of this enormity
my only prayer was to get back to the dissonance of the city.
I hurried onto him and asked him to get over it soon
and hoped that the night would not be isolated by her moon.
If I had only known that it was the last time
I would have waited more and joined his divine rhyme.
And prayed as intensely to that saffron painted stone.
So that amidst that nothingness his prayers are not left alone.
More poems by Aniket here. You can follow Shruti's art here.