Poetry: Snigdha Agrawal

Snigdha Agrawal

One, two, lace up my shoes
Three, four, bend a little more
Restless getting TV crews

Bubba gets down on his knees
Ties Mumma's laces tight
Complying as a respectful son should do

Give the devil its due!

Five, six, in a small village
Baba arrives to celebrate
Mataji's 100th birthday

Seven, and eight, bids his time
Stage props being arranged
Enters in the shutterbugs' presence
Respectful son pays obeisance

Nine, ten, two drama ends

Encore, encore, public yells!
Another place will grab attention
"Self-professed demi-Gods on earth presiding".


Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells
Who will be the first to tell
What inside those minds dwell?
Who will be the next to be felled?
Cut into thin threads
Inside the shredder 
Through oratorial skills 

Vote...vote...vote for me
with promises big
The lady is crowned
ousting the Bozo clown

Jingle bells, Jingle bells, jingles all the way
Alas! Lasted for eventful forty-four days
Witnessed a royal burial
Hailed ‘Long Live the King of England’
Drama staged on another continent
The King sits in his Chambers
Counting his newfound fortunes
Oops! He now has to contend with a government head 
From a race that once his ancestors ruled
Will that mean His Majesty will return the Kohinoor?

Asks the world
Double Diwali Dhamaka
celebrated, with the breaking news!


Yeh Zindagi...
I have no complaints about Thee
All these years
Compartmentalized me
Leaving no trimmings to
gather together
Stitch me a piece
I'd be comfortable in
So, I'm living it out as
deems fit

Yeh Zindagi...
name evokes admixture
of times good and bad
Thou hath...
doled out only river of sorrows
failures galore
back-handed compliments
tongue-in-cheek commendations
is the way, I humbly accept
without complaints
Consoling the loser in me


They befriended me
Friends forever three

I had erred
Demanded more from them
That was not in the treaty
Robbed from them
Now brandished a thief

Thief, I'm not
Overtaken by greed
took more than apportioned
How could that equal a sin?
  Kali said “you’ve overused your quota”
  Lakshmi defended “you’ve ignored the poor”
  Saraswati countered “you’ve misused my gift”

Here I stand at the end of my life 
Unfriended by those on whom I most relied
Surrounded by a feeling of emptiness


Somewhere in the skies
The sprinkler of stardust is turned on
Showering blessings
On my unmoving body
Draped in my wedding saree

They stood frozen, quiet
This woman had broken all
age-old traditions
Wished to be dressed in bright red
 Claimed it as her right

Red streaked vermillion
A thick line in her grey parting
Bindi on forehead
Wrists adorning red bangles
Feet adorned with silver anklets

She saw their anguish
She heard their unspoken words
Judgmental staring
What right had this old woman
Shame society while leaving?

Hey! You(s) with Myopic sight
His love resides inside me
So what, that he's gone
I remain married to him
In thought, spirit, and being

Till the end, we don't part
That's the vow we had taken
My life has ended
Forever married
'Widowed' nomenclature
It's you, who branded me

Bio: Snigdha Agrawal (nee Banerjee) is a Bengali born, raised and educated in a cosmopolitan environment, with exposure to the eastern and western cultures, imbibing the best of both worlds.  With more than two decades of experience working in the corporate sector, her outlook on life is balanced, which reflects in her writings. A versatile writer, she writes all genres of poetry, prose, short stories, travelogues, and hotel/restaurant reviews on Tripadvisor, under the pen name ‘puchka’.  A published author of three books, the latest titled MINDS UNPLUGGED Lockdown Stories and Rhymes for The Six to Sixteen, is available worldwide on Amazon. in Amazon.com Flipkart, and other global platforms.  An intrepid traveller, her travel diaries can be accessed in word press blog: randomramblings52.  She lives in Bangalore (Karnataka), India. 

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