Kanthvaani

Dec 4, 2025

In What Remains Heard they died, were never at the helm, Some belonged to me, some belonged to them. We ran in the same direction at once, for once, Tripping over the pieces of bombs and guns. Landed with a thud, trembling hands scrabbled on the floor, Desperate to recognise mine from yours. Some were old, some were new, still blooming in the mud, Faces charred, bodies disfigured, dried of blood. Tightening chest, lump in the throat, gasping for breath through the sobs. Struggling to decipher the ruins of pain and loss. Once known, identities buried under dust and moss. I was jolted awake, no longer lost in the space, I rose to my feet, a sad smile crossing my face. Sure, each story is woven differently along life’s course, But souls? Couldn’t find mine that is different from yours. -Komal Sharma
Kanthvaani

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