The Past

By Lora Mishra

After spending years abroad,
I came back to my hometown.
I stopped by its streets
to have a look around.
Stretches of barren land
that spoke of battles.
Old houses and churches
standing high like castles.
The roads hid in them
stories that were unheard
In any place, near or far,
except this part of the world.
I got into a book store,
And it seemed of the kind
that lights up during Christmas
with a lovely fireplace inside.
The books seemed to speak,
like they were the storytellers,
with all kinds of people listening
the family men and solitary dwellers.
The walls of the houses
whispered in my ears
"O wanderlust soul,
you did right to come here.
In this place reside
a thousand distressed souls,
that find home in the town,
and the legacies that it holds."
I stared blankly at the walls,
perplexed right to the core,
whether to speak of their beauty,
or wait to listen to more.
An old man called me from behind,
and smiled as I looked back,
"Are you new to this place?"
he asked patting on my back.
I looked at his wrinkles 
that formed near his eyes,
and around his tiny mouth 
that made him more alive.
I shook my head looking around
and he kept staring at me for a while. 
Friendly as he looked,
he never let go of that smile.
"But I suppose you know
not much of this place.
Would you, my sweet child,
like to hear me sing its praise?"
The sparkle in his eyes 
showed his love for this town,
and he sounded so glad
when he asked me to sit down.
He began reciting its history,
of Emperors and of kings,
of battles won and lost,
and of all such things.
His hands danced in the air,
as he built up the hills,
and brought down the sky,
all so bravely in his feels.
He kept jumping on his seat,
and his voice rose and fell,
every time there was a twist,
or new turn in his tale.
We kept talking till dusk,
until it started to get dark.
I got up, taking leave.
It was time to go back.
Within the old air of the town,
time had forgotten to flow.
The town had more life in it
than I had ever seen or known.
I walked on its streets
like I'd lived there forever.
Was this town the home
that my lost soul craved for?
I realised, deep down
I was an old soul.
I looked for the time left behind,
and for the past as a whole.

2 comments

  • Amazing…it seems just like a story. Very well articulated 😄

    Varsha Mishra
  • You really portrayed a beautiful picture and you did a great job at making a story sound so poetic and free flowing:)

    Misha Oberoi

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