“Musafir” by Diksha Taskhedkar weaves a braid of a soul during the COVID pandemic. Amongst the panic and confusion of the first wave, where people were dropping like flies, the central character of the poem, afraid and numb, wonders about life which she has lived so far. Towards the end you can almost get a glimpse of the beauty of surrender wherein lies the character’s peace.   

Another one bites the dust
As another one tiptoes; in-comes.
Will I be another one?
Of these nameless faces and numbered cases: Will I be another one?

How long until they cease?
My name, my memories- like wind, like breeze.
The sands of time,
Cleaning the crevices, filling the crease.

So if my time comes; A toast to the Ripper, the mood a little chipper!
No regret, no concealed yell.
These girls that drink whiskey
Have amazing stories to tell.

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