Written By Abhijit Sarkar

I look at the gurgling water,
And with each repel I dive in,
I find serenity in the elegant loiter
Of the fishes which are swimming.

I look at the tiny open eyes
And see them longing for freedom.
Out of this spectrum of glass of demise,
Years of imprisonment has made them numb.

I look at the green stems standing,
Swaying with the currents of the stale water.
It makes me think of the hopeless rage rising,
In the heart of the gorgeous siamese fighter.

I see those shimmering pretty pebbles,
Resting at the bottom of the aquarium,
And it reminds the golds covering those groans,
Of the sufferers demanding their auxilium.

The goldfish is looking at the glass wall,
It’s own reflection is staring back.
To me, the reflection seems to cajole,
The fish from the dilusion of making a crack.

The crystal clear water of the glass box,
May seem a place of calmness and bubbles.
It’s an enclosure of suffering, the appearance is a hoax,
The pebbles will lie, listen to the gurgles.

Featured Image Courtesy – JustDial


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