The Drowning Village

By Mrs. Ruchi Agarwal

It was dawn,

after a heavy downpour,

I stepped into the filoor.

What I felt was wetty.

My bulged eye,

Witnessed the site,

Not the very first time.

When Ganga bursts out in anger, it overflows to fill the vacuum. When everyone pleads for mercy, Tlook at my laminated photo, floating on water.

Utensils seems to play,

making the rattling sound.

And all my clothes,

till the water level,

seems to be bathing in holy Ganga. The whole village turned into a pool. While I looked for a higher tool. Each one trying to fetch their stuff, For us ,the time was tough. Few youngsters,

mounted over the tree branches.

Gratified,

to have acquired such preeminent position.

The dingy ,muddy water after rain, mixed with that of the drain

The drowning village so far, would rise again without a scar. Life did not end,

Its time to re-begin.

Just some more time I need, My land would revive in speed. Nature's threat, doesn't spare. The livestock looks really scared. T bleed to see my ruined sand, hand in hand , together we stand.

The glum faces,

Transmogrify to glee.

When life embraces,

to restore the glory, plea. 1206 m

By Mrs. Ruchi Agarwal