The screech,

The scream,

The spasm,

It was happening all over again,

Only this time,

I was witnessing it first-hand.


The pain so intense,

That my limbs have started-

To numb out!

My vision ebbing away,

Just like the air-

In my lungs.


The time turning agonizingly-

Slow, as the crowd,

Huddles around- staring,

At me, as if-

I were some peculiar insect,

Rapidly, changing its colors.


I want to scream out,

Real loud;

For help,

And then.

My intuition hits me.


How many times had I seen,

Such an incident unfold-before me,

And I had only joined the crowd,


 Merely stare on;


Silently accept,

What was wrong- but,

Now the sides have changed:


I was the wood;

And Karma,

Was the flame.

I was now the victim,

Of my own cold game.


I try to get up,

I fall back down,

I frown,

But nobody’s coming around,

I scream,

I shout,

I struggle-

I swear,

 I can feel the approaching trouble,

As my insides turn,

To rubbery rubble.

How could it be,

That my fate was closing in on me,

And then, these words,

I recall:

“As you sow,

So shall you reap.”


I wake up,

To a vast serenity of white,

Was I in heaven?

Something just didn’t feel, right!

I kinda felt,

More alive;

Then I remember,

The last time;

Before I died.


Just then,

The Doc walks in,

And tells me,

That it was real,


I had survived,

A stranger had saved my life,

Brought me to this hospital,

In time.


I asked,

‘Where was he?

I needed to thank him,

Cause without him,

I would have been another numbered coffin.

In the morgue’,

But the doctor says,

He’s gone,

But he’s left a message:

Dear friend,

It doesn’t kill,

To lend a hand you see,

To be a lil’ more human,

Then you have ever been!


-Ishaan Phukan








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