Neha R. Krishna

sepia prints

just the usual family dinner, with old stories, cousins, and laughter. all the gents gather in one room with their drinks and conversation on politics and trading. the ladies are in another room. they wear loud jewelry, but gossip in whispers. i wonder why they bring kids to such parties. I sit silently, holding my mother’s pallu. a couple cousins, my age, play with their toys. they were smart enough to bring their toys. my mother brushes my short wavy hair with her fingers. go play with your cousins, she says. wearing a little smile i go sit near them and watch them play. they obviously don’t want to share their toys with me; it is written all over their faces. there’s another cousin, much older than me, serving snacks in both rooms. he comes and asks me why a little angel like me is sitting alone. i have a new toy in my room, he says, and can teach you how to play with it.

broken doll
in the crack of its lips
silence

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Note: Pallu—the loose end of a saree, generally draped over shoulder/s

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About the Author

Neha R. Krishna lives in Mumbai, India. Her haiku, tanka, and haibun appear internationally in journals and anthologies. She is the winner of the Weighing Raindrops Haiku Contest 2020 by Narrow Road and Glass House Festival.