Rubeela Mary

I walked into an old tiled house

Where hung an old board

‘Divine mission Home for the Aged’.


Silence and darkness filled the corridors,

I found many old faces here and there

With gloomy and withdrawn eyes.

Helplessness was writ large on them

And a semblance of hopelessness;

Depressed and dejected souls were they, in cage

Moving around like snails with age.


But some lay on beds Like discarded old rags,

Eyes glued to the roofs.

Smiles have left their lips,

Depression paints and draws

More and more lines to it.


Their eyes expect ‘No miracles’,

Of seeing their loved ones

Their hearts ‘Never dream’

Being caressed by some loving hands

But their ears wait forever

To hear them say a few loving words

And crave forever to kiss their dear ones.


Will I ever see among them

A happy face with gleaming smile?

I asked myself in vain.

Suddenly I found some at last,

And reached in eager to greet them fast

But Alas, they were all senile and forgotten their past